A friend recently sent me an email, annoyed at the lack of creativity and foresight displayed by a few people with whom he is acquainted.  His tone was slightly accusatory, bemoaning what he felt was limited and narrow thinking.  He wrote, "I think that we can be much like simple organisms in our response to the world.  We sense cold, and we move away.  We sense warmth and we are encouraged toward it.  We move toward acceptance and away from rejection.  We move towards those who understand us because they validate us and make us feel good about ourselves.  It has been suggested that there is a higher energy or a higher intelligence in the world, and that it seeks a response from us." Below is my response:  

I do believe that for the most part, the world view is very narrow.  This is not meant as a putdown or a sad commentary on the woeful state of the world.  In the larger view of evolution (or intelligent design) homo sapiens sapiens is hardly past the amoeba stage.  We are basically very simple organisms and the race consciousness still hasn't reached much beyond basic survival, although progress (whatever that is -- and its definition will differ considerably depending on one's own proclivities) is being made. 

Hominids have been evolving for five million years.  That's approximately 250,000 generations.  Rudimentary stone tools only came into use about two million years ago (100,000 generations).  Full mastery of fire is thought to have taken place only about 200,000 years ago.  The Great Leap Forward, when finer tools, societal organization and language (e.g. culture) began to take shape, took place a scant 50,000 years ago.  Art appeared only about 40,000 years ago.  The agricultural revolution occurred 10,000 years (400 generations) ago.  The industrial revolution, which truly provided for more wealth, better health, stability, education of larger numbers of people, and leisure time, has only affected human evolution for about a dozen generations.  And now we have the very young information revolution, spanning only about a generation and a half.   

Evolutionary time is generational time, not clock time.  It takes huge effort to create change.  According to Paul R. Ehrlich, "...Only very strong selection pressures, involving great disparities in reproductive success, would produce much change in 400 generations, let alone 12 generations.  It is thus reasonable to assume that to whatever degree humanity has been shaped by genetic evolution, it has largely been to adapt to hunting and gathering - to the lifestyles of our pre-agricultural ancestors."  (Ehrlich, Human Natures: Genes, Cultures and the Human Prospect, 2002, pg. 166)

Until the cultivation of food became the dominant means of survival (and requiring group cooperation for its success) our predecessors were hunter/gatherers.  Basically, their attention was focused on survival.  That boils down to the obtaining of food, reproduction, and the avoidance of anything that might shorten one's ability to undertake either of those activities.  For tens of thousands of years, "modern" hominids focused their attention on increased productivity of their hunting and gathering techniques.  They moved around a lot,  constantly having to adapt to new and changing environments.  It was a subsistence existence.  There's not much of an opportunity to contemplate one's navel in those circumstances.   

The average group size is believed to have been about 25-50 individuals, largely familial in origin (observe siblings who want the same toy!).  Eventually, groups grew to 100-200.  Then larger tribes of 500-1,000 individuals sharing a common language began to gather, and creation mythology began. 

Eventually, the need to defend resource territory and enhance mating opportunities decreased with the recognition that survival was enhanced with group cooperation.  Intellect and skill began to be appreciated and valued over brute strength.  But we still retain a dominance hierarchy.   

Homo sapiens still is basically a small group animal, according to Ehrlich. 

I take that to mean that we're trying to adapt our tribal, small group natures into a complex societal structure and we haven't had the time to adapt to our rapidly changing surroundings.  In moving into that "global" societal structure we're abrogating the ancient wisdom for a much thinner and less developed psyche, becoming more insular rather than remembering our integral natures. 

There are those who believe that observance of the ancient ways is essential to maintaining our connection with our souls and higher purpose.  Those ancient teachings are the deepest repository for  our core, or root values.  My experience tells me that there is wisdom in that viewpoint.   We lose the tools for progress when we deny our ancient souls.  A good ritual can transform one and release the angst and anxiety of our current world through the remembrance of those core values.

I think we all share the experience, DNA, etc., of our ancestors.  It's part of us; it's the way we're coded.  We basically haven't changed much since The Beginning.  Many human attitudes and behaviors are similar regardless of culture, gender, economic environment, etc.  The primary drive still is survival.  That survival, despite our ability to do so with comparative ease, is very basic.  Our hominid focus is still eating and copulating, and the effort to acquire food and copulation partners.  To that extent, we're still pretty territorial.  People really haven't evolved past the primal need or want to  have their subsistence urges satisfied, regardless of the fact that they can do so in relative luxury and comfort now -- at least in our society.  We simply don't know how to incorporate those basic drives into a finer and more diverse human experience.   

Still, I'm an optimist.  I absolutely believe that there is an infinite something that calls us to itself.  And I believe that we are wired to hear that call and to respond to it.  But, our focus on survival, which race consciousness has not yet outgrown, keeps us from hearing the still small voice.The Gita warns that the addiction to sensory experiences is the greatest diversion keeping us from the awareness of our union with the Divine.  All of the world's great scriptures pretty much teach us the same.  Those scriptures and their teachers and followers have been around for millennia, although their teachings have been distorted beyond recognition.

According to Dr. David Hawkins, today only about four percent of the world's population truly and deeply contemplates the immanent and transcendent.   Interestingly, throughout history the mystics and spiritualists have been in the minority among cultures.  Their existence only began to emerge when creation mythology began to emerge.  Therefore, the contemplation of the divine is in its infancy in our world - or at least in this cycle of the world's life (I tend to believe that we all have passed this way more than once before).  Their wisdom about the world beyond the gritty day to day gives their tribes and clans hope.  The larger population of the group focuses on the dirty work of just living.  But they turn to their mystics to provide a moral compass to relieve the pressure of basic survival struggles and the brutality of sensory-based subsistence.  So, there is hope for a brighter future because there is a Truth that beckons us from someplace.  Thankfully, there are some who hear that call and respond to it.    

Still, I think there's nothing wrong in the simplistic life of the amoeba.  To be attracted to warmth and light and to be repulsed by the cold darkness seems to be as basic to life as DNA.  Assuming, that is, that life really is defined by the presence of DNA and by and active consciousness or sentience.  And, since we don't know anything about what we can't perceive, we can't possibly know whether the amoeba is or isn't any better off than we are.  In the basic structure of all that is, I think perhaps the amoeba has the benefit of something we more complex organisms have lost.  The holy texts have always invited us to move toward the light and to lead a simpler life. 

Karen E. Kelsay © 2007  All rights reserved.

Amazing Grace is one of the most beloved songs in the Christian repertoire.  It is a song about transformation.  We yearn for that transformation, that one amazing change in our lives that will bring freedom.  

That innate yearning is the inner voice of grace, telling us that it is possible to live a life free of pain, struggle, and fear.  It calls to us, inviting us into the awareness that life without Truth is a life of blind suffering.  It would not call us to it if it were not available to us or if we were in any way unworthy of receiving it.  It also is the voice of Truth and when we listen to and follow it we experience a graceful life - we have the ability to see and know life as an expression of beauty even in the midst of seeming ordinariness and challenge.

In my contemplation of a recent event that I can only chalk up to being an experience of amazing grace, I thought about the song.  I used to sing it when I was a worship leader in Christian churches.  As I researched the song, I was surprised to find stanzas four through six!  Those verses change the character of the song completely.  I think they are extremely important because they give us insight into the transcendent nature of grace.

The following is the song in its entirety:

Amazing grace!  How sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me!

I once was lost, but now am found;

Was blind, but now I see.

‘Twas grace that taught my heart to fear

And grace my fears relieved;

How precious did that grace appear

The hour I first believed.

Through many dangers, toils and snares;

I have already come!

‘Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far,

And grace will lead me home.

The Lord has promised good to me,

His word my hope secures;

He will my shield and portion be,

As long as life endures.

Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,

And mortal life shall cease,

I shall possess, within the veil,

A life of joy and peace.

The earth shall soon dissolve like snow,

The sun forebear to shine;

But God who called me here below,

Will be forever mine.

When we've been there ten thousand years,

Bright shining as the sun,

We've no less days to sing God's praise

Than when we'd first begun.[1]

As I contemplate the first stanza, I recognize that in our Western world we are taught to believe that our thoughts are our thoughts and our bodies and minds are our bodies and minds.  We erroneously believe that we are our experiences and that God is somehow outside of us.  We think that there is something inside of us that is in conflict with God and that we are entangled in a perpetual battle between good and evil. 

And yet, all of the holy texts tell us that we are unified with the Divine; that our thoughts are not our thoughts and our lives are not our lives.  We are made in the likeness and image of our creator.  Therefore, God's nature is our nature.  There are not two forces waging war within us.  Jesus taught that a house divided against itself cannot stand.  Therefore, it makes sense that, since God manifests as light, sound, and vibration, we are that.  As manifestations of God, we do not own our bodies, thoughts, or beliefs, although our egos tell us that we are our own creation.  When the ego leads, we have the belief that we are embattled.  When grace leads, we are freed from the illusion of separation from that which created us.  Peace prevails when we step into the awareness and experience of our Oneness with the Divine.

Kriya Yoga teaches this, and this same teaching is supported in the Bible:  "The Word was in the beginning, and that very Word was with God, and God was that Word.  The same was in the beginning with God.  Everything came to be by his hand; and without him not even one thing that was created came to be. The life was in him, and the life is the light of men.  And that same light shines in darkness, and the darkness does not overcome it."[2] 

When we tune in to the still, small voice that is the sound and vibration of God within us, the illusion of separation is transformed by the awareness of the Divine Truth that God is all there is and it is always present.  That transformation from illusion to Truth is what saves us from the wretched, hellish belief in separation that blinds us to the presence of God. 

Once we know that we are not separate from God, we experience grace.  That grace expresses as the peace, joy, love, light, strength, life, truth, and beauty that are eternally present.  We are no longer lost in the dark blindness of negative thoughts and limiting beliefs, but we are found right where we've always been - lovingly bathed in the light of God's presence.

The second stanza addresses the concept of fear.  In our Western religions we are taught to fear God, to tremble before its power and presence.  We're taught that we could be cast into the depths of Hell if we fail to live in awe of God's power and might.  My original understanding of this stanza was that God - being the source of grace - wants me to fear it.  However, God also has the power, through grace, to relieve me of my fear.  So, in my confused mind, grace was a double-edged sword that smacked me if I became too sure of myself and then saved me whenever God deemed it to be appropriate to do so.  Grace was a heaven-sent lifesaver - all I had to do was to dogpaddle frantically until God threw it to me and I could grab on for dear life.

Now, however, I know that the grace of God is something quite different.  Its nature is love and its purpose is to support life.  It is not fickle!  It teaches us to be aware of the consequences of dark, negative, and limiting beliefs, thoughts, words, and actions.  That same grace transforms those erroneous ideas into ideas of life and light - thus, relieving us from the burden of a fear-ridden life. 

Grace is a precious gift, indeed!  But it can only manifest in the moment of our acknowledgement of its presence.  When our untrained hearts and minds return to the ideas of separation and limitation, grace slips out of our awareness. 

Grace is what gives the world teachers such as Jesus, The Buddha, Lord Krishna, and many others who can hear and understand its message.  These grace-aware souls teach us how to train ourselves to hear the ever-present message and to live from it in our own uniqueness.  Thankfully, grace is limitless.  Each time we turn our attention away from fear and lack and toward the presence of God we again experience that grace.

Stanza three tells us that, regardless of what we've done or where we've been, we are still covered by grace.  We are always held in the soft, sweet embrace of the Divine. 

I went through a period of intense self recrimination not too long ago.  I was contemplating another divorce and I wanted to know how and why I keep making the same choices and mistakes.  As I looked back through my life, I was ashamed of some of the things I'd done, choices that led to struggle and pain, the things I said or did that caused pain for others, and I was horrified by the thought that there was no way I could ever live those down.  And then I realized that, in spite of those experiences, I am not dead.  I am alive!  Something inside of me keeps me going, regardless of the mistakes I make.  Something loves me, in spite of my self.  I think that something is grace.  God's love has kept me safe thus far; it saves me from myself.  And, it is leading me home - to the awareness of the presence of God within.  Ah, grace!

In stanza four we are reminded that God's infinite presence was, is, and always will be good.  God's Word created all there is.  Therefore, I am secure in knowing that God is the source and substance (my portion) of the good that is present in my life and in the world around me.  As my shield, it protects me from harmful thoughts and actions as long as I am in awareness of and alignment with the wholeness that is always present.  My own forgetfulness of that presence is the cause of the transient experiences of pain and suffering.  When I return to the awareness of Divine love, my cup once again overflows.

Stanzas five and six suggest that ours is a transcendent life.  The mortal life is temporary.  The real reality - the place within the veil - is a place of joy and peace.  That place is both immanent and transcendent; it exists within us, imbuing our bodies of flesh and bone with the knowledge of Truth.  Through the Holy Spirit (the breath of God), the Truth that is present within the veil is breathed into and through us in every moment of our physical existence.  When we take the time to be quiet and make still our thoughts, words, and activities and focus our attention on the presence of the Holy Spirit, we no longer perceive the mortal body.  We perceive God and we experience Divine grace as joy and peace.  With wonder and amazement we recognize the gift that is life and we know that this present moment is a magnificent manifestation of the Divine. 

The last stanza again confirms our transcendent nature.  How could we be any place for ten thousand years?  This can only happen when we recognize our original state as light (refer to the scripture passage noted earlier), bright and shining as the sun.  There is no time in God; the Bible tells us that the passage of ten thousand years is the same as the blink of an eye.  Whatever has gone before or whatever comes after will not and cannot diminish the Truth of our Oneness with the Divine.  We perpetuate grace by singing the praises of - or being aware of - the Divine One that created it.

Grace expresses itself freely in every moment.  The experience of it is not mere happenstance, nor is it a prize to be sought after and won.  We struggle in vain; grace transforms in the blink of an eye.  We just have to allow it to do its work.  I don't have to do anything to change myself, the situation, or the people around me.  I simply become aware of the amazing grace that fills God's creation - and the ordinary becomes extraordinary.

Karen E. Kelsay © 2006  All rights reserved

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[1] The words were written by John Newton, Olney Hymns (London:  W. Oliver, 1779).  The last stanza is by an unknown author; it appears as early as 1929 in the Baptist Songster, by R. Winchell (Wethersfield, Connecticut), as the last stanza of the song "Jerusalem My Happy Home."  The music is "New Brittain," in Virginia Harmony, by James P. Carrell and David S. Clayton (Winchester, Virginia: 1831).  My source for this information is http://www.cyberhymnal.org/htm/a/m/amazgrac.htm

[2] The Gospel According to Saint John, chapter 1, verses 1-5.  Holy Bible, from the Ancient Eastern Text.  George M. Lamsa's Translation from the Aramaic of the Peshitta, copyright 1933 by A.J. Holman Co.

Our hearts found each other across a choppy sea.  He saw me first, and in my fear and insecurity I pretended I didn't see him.  But, he gently persevered and eventually I turned toward him and saw the light in his eyes. 

That light was a beacon for my heart, an invitation to journey to an unknown destination.  With trepidation I began to cross the ocean, but without a compass I lost my way.  I was diverted by the storms and tempests of unworthiness and fear.  I never fully made it to the other side where he was waiting.

And he did wait patiently for a time.  When it seemed I wouldn't arrive, he left the shore and went on a different journey.  But I was nearly there!  Sadly, I also changed course and went my own way. 

We've been at sea for while, he and I.  We visited foreign lands and had adventures.  Over the years our vessels took on water and the timbers were battered by wind and rain.  Patching and rebuilding, we struggled to remain seaworthy and continued on our journeys - sometimes foundering on rocky shoals, and at other times finding safe harbor for a while.  Still, we never really quite found our destinations and continue to traverse life's oceans. 

Then through the fog and mist each saw the faint outline of a ghost ship passing on the horizon.  I sent up a signal, calling, "Ahoy, there!"  He replied, but in my excitement I foundered.  We continued to head in different directions.

We remain on opposite shores.  Still, I can't help but wonder whether this is a journey we were meant to share and we simply keep missing the boat.  Fear, disillusionment, and uncertainty have kept us from venturing back to home port and trying another journey together.

We've each weathered our share of storms.  We stagger up on to the shore soggy, battered and bruised, gasping for breath, vowing never to take another journey.  The pain simply isn't worth it.  We wonder about our ability to captain our vessels and whether we have the wisdom to select an appropriate crew.  Or worse, we allow others to convince us that we never should have weighed anchor in the first place.

And so we sit on shore for a while, nursing our wounds.  Scars form, some thicker than others, protecting the tender flesh underneath.  As we heal, we grow restless.  We crave the adventure and decide to voyage once more, trying another tack.  We keep looking for that hidden treasure!  But this time we avoid any country that looks like the one from which we limped away.  We might be curious about an island ahead, but we haven't been there before and don't know what we might find.  We've been seafarers for many years and know that sometimes treasure isn't buried where the map indicates.  Or worse, the alluring glint of gold and diamonds turns out to be a pale reflection cast by pyrite and glass.   Perhaps the landmarks have shifted and could cause us to lose our way.  We could end up dragging our sorry butts up onto another rocky shore.  So we retreat under our scars; it's safer to stay where we are.

I wonder, though - what would happen if we were willing to enter an uncharted sea?  What treasures might be waiting for us along the way? 

Part of the adventure is in not knowing exactly where the wind will lead.  We can start with a good compass - with the agreement to never deliberately cause pain for the other.  Mishaps will happen, of course.  We can't ride the waves and run ahead of the wind without a few incidental scrapes.  But, with care and attention we can regain our course.  Knowing that our intention is to cause no harm, we'll hold each other's lifeline.  Still, the deck may become slippery and each might fall from time to time.  And, we may fall together. 

Risk is part of the journey.  But without the courage to set sail we'll never know what's waiting on the other shore - even if we end up on that shore sputtering, laughing,  and crying at the mistakes and course corrections we had to make along the way.

When love is unexpressed, the world is diminished by its absence.  So, why not set sail, casting off with the intention to live and love today as if it's never going to hurt tomorrow.  We'd each take our turn on watch, tending the wheel.  When the time is right, we'd turn into the wind together.  It could be the journey of a lifetime.  If some day we find that it's time to disembark, we'd do so with gratitude for the adventure and delight for the treasures discovered along the way.

Sometimes, when the breeze is just so and the fog lifts for a moment, I catch a faint glimmer of light from an old beacon.  Is it my imagination?  Or is the lighthouse keeper still tending the light?

Karen E. Kelsay © 2006  All rights reserved.

It's 4:30 on a rainy Sunday morning.  I couldn't sleep, and the only thing I could think to do was to sit at my computer and write.  And so, I am here. 

The words have tumbled around in my head for years, waiting to be placed on paper; waiting to be brought to life.  The words no longer simply tumble.  Now they are a flood, rushing through my awareness and rolling over my day-to-day thoughts as I go about my activities and errands.  They beg to be freed from the confines of my mind.  I don't really know how to start.  So, I'll just start and see where it leads.

I've wondered many times as I've heard the call and felt the tug to do what I'm doing now, "Who am I to write about God?"  I have asked God, "Why me?" and the answer I receive is, "Because you are willing."  (Note:  I use the word "God" in describing the Divine Presence or Infinite Intelligence.  It's simply shorthand for me.  It's just a word). 

I have struggled with this for several years.  I began what I call "inspired writing" in 1996.  At that time, I knew that this was going to be my life's work.  But, I have been very hesitant to do it.  First, it was a question of worthiness.  I've not lead the most pristine life and I have no formal training about religion or spirituality.  And then I worried about not being original enough.  It seems that more and more of us "inspired writers" are popping up all the time.  Besides, what we're writing about is not new.  It's been written and spoken about for millennia.  So, what could I have to offer that's different?    

Just getting to the place of surrendering to this process has been a spiritual unfoldment for me.  Every time I question God about it, I receive new insights.  Eventually, the insight that prompted me to stop dallying was the understanding that it really doesn't matter what anyone else thinks or believes.  This is my journey to an understanding of God and how I relate to that.  Each of us has our own path and our own way of interacting with the universe around us.  We can only understand what we're willing or able to understand. 

I had concerns about some of this being unpopular with the less tolerant religionists who seem to dominate the American landscape these days.  Then it came to me that Jesus wasn't immensely popular with the Pharisees and Sadducees.  He had a message that told them to wake up to the truth and clean up what they'd been teaching.  He admonished them to remember to look to God and to surrender to God first.  He was murdered for speaking out against the religious, cultural, and political abuses of his day. 

Jesus' message of compassion, mercy, love, peace, and personal responsibility, as well as the similar messages of many others, is simply a compass by which we direct our own thoughts, words, and actions.  The message is the key to our salvation, not the message-bearer.  The words are "living words" because they are made alive through us, not because we pledge allegiance to any person or group.  The example of their lives and the spirit of their teaching is the light that guides us.

Jesus taught that he was no different from any of us and that we could do as he did and more.  He taught people through his example.  And, he was the great example, not the great exception.

And so I surrender. I'm simply the writing instrument. 

I am an average, ordinary, everyday kind of person.  I am not lettered in things spiritual or religious.  My spiritual journey has been primarily experiential.  I've taken a walk down several spiritual and religious paths.  I'm not sure why.  I just feel compelled to do it.  In these encounters I've received the gift of seeing and experiencing many expressions of how we search for God in our lives.  I've also learned how we limit the expression of God in our lives.  And I've learned how other people's ideas about God can lead us away from knowing God in the way uniquely intended for each of us as God's own expression of itself.     

I've gone to a variety of churches, taken several seminars, attended workshops and retreats, read many books, and engaged in countless discussions both lively and reverent.  As more than one spiritual guide said, "All paths lead to God, and there are as many paths to God as there are souls."

It's been an interesting journey. I love God and I love the idea of God.  And, that idea has changed over the years.  Deepak Chopra wrote that God evolves as we evolve.  I think that means that we must be willing to release our idea of what we think God is to allow God to show up in our lives in ways that we couldn't recognize otherwise.  Jesus taught this when he said, "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for they shall know God."

In his book, The Sermon on the Mount: The Key to Success in Life, Emmet Fox wrote, "To be poor in spirit means to have emptied yourself of all desire to exercise personal self-will, and, what is just as important, to have renounced all preconceived opinions in the wholehearted search for God.  It means to be willing to set aside your present habits of thought, your present views and prejudices, your present way of life if necessary; to jettison, in fact, anything and everything that can stand in the way of your finding God."

I'm reminded of something a friend experienced recently.  She was frustrated because she was going to have to return a new appliance.  She told me it was shipped without a power cord.  I pulled it out of the box and the power cord was attached right where it was supposed to be!  She was dumbfounded.  She expected the cord to be black.  It was white.  She didn't see it because it didn't look the way she expected it to look.

If we expect God to show up in a way that is not consistent with God's true nature, then we will not experience the fullness of the divine presence as it really is.  How can a limited view of God allow us to experience and know everything that God is? God is the Creator and the created, the form and the formless.  It is a presence and is everywhere present.  It is not a personality, nor does it have human qualities or behaviors.  It's also impersonal.  Since God expresses through and as us, then how can we fully express ourselves if we misperceive our own true nature?  As we accept the limitlessness of God and its presence in our lives, we release our own limitations and God moves through us more freely.  This freer movement of God's creative power through us creates a more expansive and vibrant life for us.  

We must shed old beliefs about God to allow a new and richer knowledge of God to reveal itself to us.  We erroneously believe that we must give up our earthly lives to attain this God realization.  This isn't true; to live life is the reason we are here on Earth!  However, our belief in ourselves as separate from God is what creates trial and tribulation and perpetuates the experience of Hell on Earth.  Once we recognize that we are expressions of God, life as we know it will change dramatically.  There is a saying that, "A mind expanded cannot return to its previous size."  I've found this to be true.  Once I embarked on this journey, I found that I can't be the person I used to be.  It's simply not possible.

If you don't understand what's happening, it can be devastating because it feels as if the world is coming to an end.  In a way, your old world is coming to an end as you move into a new beginning.  If you allow yourself to just flow with it and truly know that God is present right where you are and you know that its nature is life, you will make your way through the tunnel and step into the light.  While it can be challenging, it's not as painful as living a life of fear, frustration, and anxiety. 

Change is difficult because our new life is unfamiliar.  A dear friend was dissatisfied with her life and prayed for change.  Instead of seeing the gift in the new experiences, she was miserable because things weren't the way they used to be.  Her spiritual counselor admonished her, "You pray and pray and pray for God to change your life.  And then you cry and cry and cry because nothing is the same!" 

If you understand what you want to change, then the transition is accomplished with ease and grace.  Disharmony occurs when we don't really know what we want or when we try to change the outside circumstance without changing the beliefs and behaviors that created the situation.  Jesus taught that it is God's good pleasure to give us the kingdom of Heaven.  And, he taught that the kingdom of Heaven is at hand.  "At hand" means right here, right now.  It's not beyond our reach.  All we need to do is to recognize that it is present; to ask and receive.  But, we must first seek the kingdom of Heaven.  We must know what we're truly seeking.  We may think we simply want a new relationship or a job change.  But, it may be that what we truly want is peace, harmony, love, security, and acceptance.  These are the things that are present in the kingdom.  So, these are the things we need to accept as being "at hand," or already present.  They are deeper than outside circumstance.  They are the truth of who we are as expressions of God.  

When we accept those deeper gifts the disharmonious relationship, job, home, financial struggle, health issues, etcetera, will change.  We may find ourselves more accepting and at peace in a difficult situation.  Or the situation itself may shift.  Or, the people, places or things with which we struggled may move out of our lives if they do not assist us in being our highest expression of what we were created to be.  But the bottom line is that we get what we ask for.  As Jesus said, we have not because we ask amiss.  If you're asking for a new relationship instead of asking for the experience of giving and receiving love honestly and openly, you most likely will continue to create the same old relationship patterns over and over again.  If you're asking for more money instead of asking for ease and grace, prosperity and abundance, you may find yourself in a well-paying but unfulfilling job instead of experiencing the profound joy of doing something that is authentically suited for you.  When you are open to joy and creativity, abundance and the opportunities to express that creativity naturally will follow.

To surrender to God is not a passive experience.  It's very active.  And it doesn't mean that we can't enjoy life.  It's not the ascetic life that most of us have been led to believe it is.  Instead, it makes life more richly passionate, deeply honest, enjoyable, beautiful, and unifying.  It's very freeing.  In that new way of being we are released from old patterns and beliefs.  We no longer react from fear and self deprecation.  We stop comparing ourselves to others and judging.  We are free to choose new ways of thinking and being. 

God's will is life, beauty, joy, grace, peace, love, strength, and all of the expressions of those qualities.  Surrendering to God's will is to surrender to a rich, full, and delightful life.  It means we can make love with the person of our choice passionately and tenderly, drink good wine, and eat chocolate.  But we do so in ways that are not destructive or disrespectful of ourselves, the planet, and others.  We start making life-affirming choices.  We find lasting peace and acceptance in something far greater than our temporary, external experiences. 

There always will be challenges.  However, if there's a struggle in meeting the challenge, then we haven't really understood what we're being asked to do.  As a flame transforms darkness simply by being a flame, divine love transforms simply by its presence.  There is no fight, no battle, nor struggle with the devil or demons.  It simply is what it is.  It expresses its nature by just being.  Our job is to accept the presence of that divine love and invite transformation.  Then we simply "be" in its presence and surrender to its process. 

The way of peace is peaceful.  The way of love is loving.  The way of mercy is merciful.  The way of joy is joyful.  The way of beauty is beautiful.  The way of strength is empowering.  The way of light is illuminated.  If your search for God or for a fuller life is not peaceful, loving, merciful, joyful, beautiful, empowering, or filled with light, then consider altering your course and taking a different path.

I know that I am not my outside circumstance.  I know that that which is greater than me is within me just as it is in everything around me.  I have the gift of free will.  That means I have the power and freedom to choose how I act, think, and feel in any given situation.  I am not a victim of circumstance.  My life is a reflection of my inner state, and my thoughts must be focused on peace to enjoy peace, love to enjoy love, health to enjoy health, and so on.  The Bible urges us to "think on these things."  It and all holy texts teach us that to dwell on anger, anxiety, frustration, and ill will toward others only brings those things into our lives.  But when we focus our thoughts, words, and actions on love, respect, compassion, mercy, honesty, generosity, acceptance, and so on, our overall life experience will be filled with these qualities. 

A problem cannot be solved from the same state of mind that created it.  When I find myself in a state of turmoil, I have only to check inside to discern what my thoughts and motives are and strive to bring them back into alignment with the higher vibrations.  When I do that, the situation may still be present, but the way I experience the situation changes.  The solution to the problem will present itself in a way that serves the highest and best good for all.  The key is to let go of control and to release attachment to outcomes.  When I approach a problem from this place, the resolution often is much better than anything that I could try to force.

My dad died after a long and difficult illness, I'm going through a divorce, gas prices are high, and people still cut me off on the freeway and are rude in the grocery store line.  Initially, I might experience feelings of anger, frustration, irritation or helplessness.  However, once I recognize what's happening, I make a choice to let go of those thoughts and feelings and stop judging the situation.  I stop trying to force the outcome of the situation or experience.  I accept that others are simply having their own experiences that really have nothing to do with me; I just happen to be there at the time.  As a result, instead of being embroiled in angst and drama in the midst of these challenges and transitions, I find that I'm much happier, more peaceful, and more richly abundant than I ever thought I could be.  I also have more energy and I can be more open to recognize and receive life's blessings and joys.

Getting to this point has taken 47 years.  I'm looking forward to the even more wonderful insights I'll gather in the next 47.  I know God is tapping me on the shoulder.

I believe God spoke to me when I was 16.  I was going through a difficult time and was seriously contemplating suicide.  As I walked my usual route home from school one day, I looked up and noticed a young boy several yards ahead of me on the sidewalk.  I had never seen him before.  He turned around to face me, walking backward the entire time.  He said, "You have to take the right hand in the left hand."  I didn't understand what it meant until a friend interpreted for me later. This friend clasped his hands in a prayerful way - taking his right hand with his left hand.  This made sense in light of what had happened further in my walk home that one afternoon.  The boy kept the same distance between us for several blocks.  Finally, he turned the corner.  As I rounded that same corner just a few seconds later, he was gone.  He had simply vanished.  As I continued my walk, I was compelled to look up at the sky.  The clouds had a formation that looked as if two hands were held palms up, cupping or cradling something.  As I looked at this formation, I distinctly heard the words, "Don't worry.  Everything is in my hands." 

In more recent years, as I have been drawn to a deeper search for understanding of and communion with God, I've had some deeply mystical experiences.  In January of 1999 I had an extremely profound experience -- one that launched me into an intense spiritual quest that is ongoing.

I was away from home on one of my frequent business trips that year.  I had returned to my hotel room after a long day and was getting ready to tuck in for the night.  I sat at foot of the bed and was contemplating the existence of angels.  I never had a vision of one, although I knew several people who communed with them regularly.  In that moment, I felt a presence beside me.  I turned to it and acknowledged it.  I was instantaneously transported to a place of no place.  I was surrounded by what I can only describe as a bright fog.  The love and peace I felt there were unfathomable.  When I was aware of my physical presence again, I found myself on the floor in another part of the room.  I was weeping and shaking.  I felt as if I had poked my finger into a light socket and my heart felt as if it would burst with the wonder and joy of the experience.  It only lasted a few seconds, but I knew I had been in the presence of God. 

I've since had other experiences that I can only express as some kind of awareness of, or communion with, God.  I can't describe them in words, but I know that something happened, and in some instances they were transformative.  There have been a few times when others were present during these moments.  They were deeply affected by the experience. 

I think I've always been seeking a deeper understanding of God.  As a youngster I went to Sunday School in a Presbyterian church.  As a teenager, I attended a Catholic church and participated in that church's youth activities.  In my mid-twenties I "accepted Christ" in a Southern Baptist church and was appointed as a church trustee.  Following that, I moved on to a Weslyan church, where I was a worship leader and featured soloist.  Additionally, I've had regular attendance and participation in Methodist, Church of Christ, and Lutheran churches. 

I was a "good Christian" and tried to accept the teaching that I had a sinful nature and must repent, and that the only way I could see my way clear of a life of pain was through asking Jesus into my heart.  I wept for the suffering of the man on the cross - suffering that was caused by my sin.  How easy it was to follow the crowd and take as my own the attitudes and beliefs handed down by others!  I was easily accepted into the fold by mimicking the words and actions of those around me, believing that my behavior was going to redeem me in some way.  I could quote scripture with the best of my church companions and never missed an opportunity to try to win my family for Jesus.  I even agreed with the most strident and restrictive interpretations of scripture.  Oddly, this acceptance and agreement were not transformational.  I continued to engage in destructive thoughts and habits, and still could not find the peace I was seeking. 

Still, something kept nudging the back of my brain.  Although I outwardly agreed with what I was being taught (because that was the "right" thing for me to do), the things I was told to believe weren't making sense to me.  The Bible teaches that the tree is known by its fruit.  It also teaches us how to recognize the presence of God in our lives; that the fruits of Spirit are peace, joy, and love and that these qualities serve as a compass pointing us to the highest and best way to lead our own lives.  And yet, I was surrounded by judgmental, critical, intolerant, angry, and unhappy people who professed to be "saved" by their belief that the blood of Jesus washed away their sins.  But they were still mired in their belief in sin and condemnation.  For a religion that teaches that Jesus is the light and the truth and the way, it seemed to me that there was a pretty strong focus on darkness.

For my part, I was supposed to love God and to believe that God loved me.  What didn't make sense was that this loving God was ready to cast me into the depths of Hell if I misbehaved.  If I was made in God's likeness and image, and everything that God created was good (read the first chapter of Genesis), how could I be such a wretch?  Why would God create something it was so ready to destroy?  How could a loving God be so capricious and cruel?  The idea that God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son as a sacrifice for the sins of God's own creation didn't make sense. 

The  word "sin" is an archery term.  It means "to miss the mark."  I've also heard it described as an acronym for Self Imposed Negativity.  In other words, when we "sin" we turn away from divine principle, creativity, and joy and make choices that are harmful, negative, and restrictive of our higher nature.  We generally make these choices from erroneous beliefs about who we think we are and what our lives are supposed to look like.  And the word "repent" simply means to "think again" or to reconsider. 

So, if something you're doing creates struggle and hardship and you do not have the experience of peace and harmony, why keep doing it?  A kinder, gentler world is a choice, not happenstance.  I once heard that peaceful people lead peaceful lives and troubled people lead troubled lives.  It all depends on where one focuses one's thoughts, words, and actions.  We aren't giving up a "sinful" nature.  Rather, we are choosing a more divine nature.  In this context, we feel empowered rather than victimized and we are more likely to make choices that support the highest and best good for our selves and for others. 

During weekly Bible study and Sunday School I found that I was not in sync with the teachers who interpreted the words for us.  I perceived different messages, but there was no room in the discussion for anyone to see things differently.  So I became silent.  But I was dissatisfied with the messages I heard.

I wanted to know more and to have a deeper connection with whatever God was.  I remember listening to the pastor in my Wesleyan church one Sunday and thinking, "This isn't it.  Something is missing here."  At that moment I prayed, "God, I want to know what Jesus really taught." 

After that prayer my life changed dramatically.  At first, I thought my life was being destroyed.  I lost my high-paying and prestigious job.  A long-term relationship ended.  I had to move in with my parents.  My car was repossessed and I went through bankruptcy.  And the newly ordained assistant minister in my church suddenly decided that I could no longer be a worship leader.  In his view, ministry or leadership of any kind wasn't a place for women.  Jesus taught that we are all one.  How can a church that professes to love Jesus and live by his teachings practice separation, intolerance, and prejudice?  I was deeply hurt and confused by this and stopped going to any Christian church.  I didn't realize at that time that the old was passing away so the new could come in. 

A short time later I had a revelation of sorts.  I realized that God isn't who or what I had been taught to believe it is.  I began to ponder the possibility that there could be another way to look at God and at Jesus.  I began to search for a way to know God that was different from what I had learned in traditional Christian environments.

Among the things I've done on my quest:  I joined a Sufi order and studied one teacher's interpretation of Islam for three years.  I've been baptized.  I've covered my head in a Catholic church and in a mosque.  I've attended Celtic mystical ceremonies and Wiccan ceremonies.  I spent a night under the stars on a hilltop on sacred Native American land.  I've had mala beads and a rosary.  I've sat satsung with Buddhists and Hindus.  I know the Lord's Prayer, the Apostle's Creed, Salat, and a number of Hindu chants.  I have a rudimentary understanding of the Kabbala, Huna (Hawaiian mysticism), the Mayan Calendar, and the Merkaba.  I dabbled with tarot cards, runes, ouija boards, and have had my astrological chart drawn.  I've read the writings of or listened in rapt attention to channeled beings.  I've sat with someone I truly know is a master spiritual teacher.  I've sat with those who believed themselves to be master spiritual teachers who, in actuality, were not.  I've studied and practiced Reiki and other types of spiritual and energetic healing.  These days, I'm studying Eastern Mysticism, Kriya Yoga, and New Thought.

I've noticed that beyond all of the differences in each of these spiritual paths, there are striking similarities.  Each path accepts, in its own way, that there is one God, one heart, one soul, one life; although it may be described differently depending on cultural context.  Each path seeks to understand and express that which is "good" in life.  Each path is a way of either reaching out or reaching in to know the part of our humanity that is divine.  Each path teaches that the highest nature of the divine is love and this is our nature as well.  We forget this when we allow life's challenges to cloud our view or when we focus on the details instead of seeing the big picture, or when we believe that we are our experiences.  Thankfully, each path points us back to our source for those moments when we do forget.

The paths are not always perfect or well understood.  Nor are they complete.  But, they are what we have to work with.  If we earnestly and sincerely seek to know and understand the divine, I believe that the way will be made clear to any and all seekers, regardless of which path is chosen.

The purpose of any spiritual practice or religious belief is to perceive the presence of God.  There is only one Truth and that is Divine Truth.  We all have an innate knowledge of the Truth, but not all of us are aware of it.  Some of us turn our backs on what we erroneously think it is.  Some of us embrace what we erroneously think it is.  Or, some of us are tuned in to it only in varying degrees.  Many are called to a greater degree of awareness, but few choose to follow that call.  The majority of us generally only venture a short distance down a particular path and rest there or call it quits.

We are all travelers on Life's Great Journey.  There are many routes to the same destination and all will get us there eventually.  Frequently, we take little side trips and are more interested in the attractions around the corner.  Sometimes we enjoy the attraction so much that we tarry there and forget where we were going.  The route is not the destination.  You'll only get there if you keep traveling. 

As with any journey, there will be fabulous vistas, new friends, and wonderful treasures along with the potholes, detours, flat tires and missed turns.  That's the fun of a road trip.  To get to your destination just set your compass on God/Goddess, the Divine, Spirit, Mother/Father God, Great Spirit, Jaweh, Jehovah, Allah, Adonai, Abba, Amma, Krishna, The Absolute, Infinite Presence, The Tao, Buddha Mind, The All That Is, The I Am, Universal Mind, Cosmic Consciousness, or whatever you wish to call it in whatever way you experience it.

The Infinite Presence is un-namable and indescribable.  And, it's unknowable if one doesn't seek to know it.  Yet, it is known by those who allow it to be known in them, but only to the degree by which they allow themselves to connect with and know that Presence. 

We cannot judge another's journey or understanding because each of us can perceive only that which we are willing and able to perceive.  The vast majority of us have an extremely limited view of God.  I think that's because God expresses in an infinite variety of ways, and each of us is uniquely designed to perceive and express a different aspect of God. 

We often speak in terms of light and dark, equating light with good and darkness with bad.  In actuality, they are only different aspects of the same thing.  The universe is isomorphic and nothing can exist separately from anything else.  And, since God is both source and substance, it's ALL God.  God is the Destroyer as well as the Giver of Life.  There is a place for each and every aspect of Divinity to be expressed.  And, every aspect of God must be expressed.  It's God's nature to be known.

Still, "enlightened" individuals are deemed to exemplify certain qualities and behaviors that are recognized as "god-like," such as being respectful, joyful, peaceful, and so on.  Frankly, it's more fun to hang out with enlightened people than it is to spend time with hate-mongering, destructive individuals.  For me, anyway.  Someone else would have a different view; invite a member of a known hate group to a peace meditation and you'd most likely experience rejection. 

It's important to note here that even a collection of individuals who align themselves with "higher" ideals can be a hate group.  It's all a matter of degree.  You may be loving in regard to your particular group focus, and your co-participants may be loving toward each other.  But, what is your intention or attitude toward those outside your group who don't share your particular ideals?  Stop and think about how you embody, speak and act on your own beliefs before deciding who is good and who isn't.

What is good and what is bad?  Can there truly be such distinctions?  Certain frequencies or vibrations correspond to certain characteristics.  "Higher," or, "lighter" vibrations correlate with love, light, life, joy, peace, and so on.  "Lower," or, "darker" vibrations equate to anger, jealously, destruction, greed, and similar traits.  And, the higher vibrations tend to be more creative and expansive, while the lower frequencies tend to be more destructive and constricting.  Yet, both are essential for the world to be complete.  The expression of opposites is necessary.  Up can't exist without down.  How do you know you're in heaven if you haven't been in hell?

The interesting thing is that we can consciously choose our vibratory level and shift our experience.  Spend time contemplating peace, love, and harmony, and you will have those feelings.  Or, think about a "bad day" you may have had when nothing seemed to go right.  You were caught in a cycle of frustration and irritation, attracting more of the same.  Some people can move themselves out of a chronically difficult life, while others don't.  And, there are those who choose to remain in the higher frequencies, ultimately transforming their entire lives.  Most of us dip in and out.  That's part of what having a free will is about.

Like attracts like.  So, people who attune themselves to a specific vibration will experience the corresponding expression of that vibration.  And those with similar vibrations naturally gather together.  And then we look over the fence and see what those other folks are up to.  That's when the ideas of "us versus them," or "right versus wrong" start to creep in. 

In actuality, neither is good nor bad.  They are simply different aspects of creation.  Woven together, they create the tapestry that is life.  Each of us holds only one thread.  It may be difficult to see the rest of the tapestry from our own vantage point.  It exists, nonetheless.  Therefore, we must except that our understanding and the understanding of others is limited.  It would be spiritual arrogance to suggest that someone is on the wrong track spiritually simply because he or she perceives the Infinite in a finite way.

Language and ideas are finite and they are inadequate to describe the Infinite.  We call it different things and relate to it in different ways, but whatever we call it or believe it to me does not change its essential Being.  Our ideas about God are our ideas and affect the way in which we perceive and experience the Divine in our lives.  Those individual ideas have nothing to do with what God really is or is not. 

The Divine Presence has no gender or specific form; it simply is what it is.  It will be what it is regardless of our labels or our ideas about the labels used by others.  When you look at a tree you see its trunk, branches and leaves.  You know that it's rooted in the ground and sap runs through it.  Someone who speaks another language will have a different word for the very same tree.  That doesn't mean the tree no longer has roots, branches, bark and leaves.

God won't be offended by what you or I call it or by how anyone else chooses to relate to it.  Perfection by its very nature cannot be offended.  If it could be offended, it wouldn't be perfect, nor would it be impersonal.  Humans are the only ones who can be offended, and that requires a conscious choice to do so. 

Our words or interpretations of the words of others can't change the nature of God, but they do describe to the world our own beliefs.  Limited beliefs reveal themselves through limiting thoughts, words, actions and experiences.

I've stopped taking as gospel the things other people say about God, Jesus, other religions, and spirituality.  I do my own studying and research and I have expanded my study beyond my Christian roots.  These days, I read various translations and interpretations of the Bible, the Quran, the Bhagavad Gita, the Upanishads, the Dhammapada, the Kabala, and the Tao Te Ching.  I also read the writings of ancient and contemporary spiritual writers and mystics from many traditions, philosophers, and scientists.  Rather than take their words and stories as absolute, I strive to glean the overall message from these books. 

I recognize that the writers were and are informed by their own accepted cultural beliefs. Some writers, translators, and religious leaders have very specific agendas and these are woven into their interpretation of the scriptures.  Some ancient translators faced death if they deviated from acceptable interpretations of the day. 

Despite the determination of those of faith who hold fast to their belief in the literal accuracy of their holy texts, many religious historians and theologians now recognize and accept that these texts contain mistranslations from original text, and many scriptures were verbal legends written by people who weren't even present when some of the events were said to have occurred.  In some cases, events were romanticized and expanded on.  Some scholars regard many texts as simply metaphorical and others believe the holy books contain encoded references to deeper mystical teachings that require a more intuitive and personal approach to their interpretation and application. 

Since it's truly impossible to absolutely know what the original writers intended or whether this or that actually happened or was said (after all, who among us was there when any of these things were written?), the key to understanding the scriptures is to look at their life lessons and context, rather than content.  I seek to understand the core messages and then apply those principles in my own life.  Besides, in the long run, the way we interpret divine instruction has nothing whatsoever to do with the nature of the divine, nor does it change that basic nature.  Disagreement and discord about the nature of God doesn't reflect God's will, but rather, seeks to bend other people to our will.  Our imperfect interpretation of a particular word or phrase does not give license to condemn another for his or her beliefs or life choices, or worse, support our own belief that we are "right" and anyone who sees things differently is "wrong." 

I think the key to interpretation of a passage is whether it's an expansive and creative interpretation, or is it judgmental, intolerant, or unsupportive of individual free will?  If the nature of the divine is life, love, abundance, joy, strength, beauty, and peace, then interpretations of the scriptures - and our words and actions - should reflect such. 

Many of our societal and individual wounds come from harsh and limiting interpretation of scripture, resulting in misunderstandings about who/what God is and about our relationship to that and to each other.  Why not simply look for the similarities in all scriptures and agree on core human and spiritual values?  We must, as a culture, move past the focus on who is right or wrong in his or her interpretation of scripture.  We must discontinue our cultural practice of who may have and who may not have. Instead, let's focus on how to bring the fruits of Spirit into the lives of all, that we may all experience the kingdom here and now.

Recently, I heard a news story about a group of people who want to create a community in which all laws and societal functions are based on Biblical principles!  Whose translation and interpretation would be used?  By what yardstick could "progress" or "success" be measured?  Our system of government originally was created to loosely govern and unify a free society using spiritual principles as a foundation.  The drafters of our Constitution were not religionists; in fact, many of them abhorred formal religion.  But, they loved spiritual truth, and that was what they were striving to incorporate into the laws and moral code of the new nation they were creating. 

However, over time the teachings of Jesus have been so badly misconstrued as to have created the misperception that we are somehow weak, undeserving, and incapable of having the experience of the presence of the Divine in our lives. There is a strong emphasis on "good" and "bad" or "right" and "wrong."  If you're not one, you must be the other.  If you are the other, I must fight against you or I might have to examine my own beliefs.  Our culture in particular has been affected by that belief.  

As a result, we strive to deaden ourselves to the pain of our perceived separation through drugs, alcohol, unhealthful habits, activity, noise, "entertainment," and so on.  Since it appears that no-one is looking out for us, we feel we have to look out for "number one."  We discount the needs of others if they aren't in alignment with our own needs.  This is causing even greater schisms, alienation, individual illness, and societal discord. 

Our current political situation is a symptom of that overall discord.  It's not new; religion historically has been manipulated for the political, social, and economic control of multitudes of disparate people.  Throughout the millennia a powerful few have claimed that their actions are somehow sanctified by God, and have unabashedly used extremist interpretations of scripture to support their claims.  This is not limited to Islamist extremists; consider Constantine, the Crusades, the Inquisitions, the Ku Klux Klan, and the regional religious wars that have raged throughout the history of humankind.  Today we are experiencing the usurping of the political process to impose a very unhealthy view of Christianity's teaching.  Ironically, the spiritual principles embodied by our nation's founders have now become a tool to limit freedom and divide the nation. This is where our own nation's morality, creativity, health, peace, well-being, and prosperity have been undermined. 

It's a belief system that is bringing about great pain and destruction.  As a result, I hear many "spiritual" people (that is, those who reject the Western Christian view) rail against the patriarchal religions and culture, condemning anything that remotely smacks of the Westernized Judeo-Christian ethic.  Yet, we are all simply caught in the web of history.  It's no one's fault.  Being angry at the past cannot create peace in the present.  I agree that we must change the destructive, abusive, greedy, fear-based patterns that have brought us to this point.  Yet, it doesn't mean that we must eschew everything related to that seemingly loathsome Abrahamic tradition.  Even the Eastern Mystical teachings have hard-line interpretations that create pain and misery among the populations that practice those religions.  And romanticized views of the spiritual practices of ancient or indigenous cultures don't tell us whether anyone endured strife and hardship as a result of those practices.  Human nature is human nature.  There most likely never has been a human-contrived religion or spiritual practice that didn't leave some destruction or misery in its wake.

There are gems in and among the various teachings that do point the way to a more enlightened treatment of ourselves, the planet and each other.  It requires a new look at all spiritual teachings, including Abrahamic, Eastern, indigenous, ancient and new religions, and more.  The key is to find the common threads and work together to create a more illumined path. 

The solution is not in our turning away from religious dogma (can we blame anyone for choosing to discontinue a relationship with a judgmental, angry, vengeful, paternalistic God?), but in embracing the deeper nature of the divine presence within us and to live lives guided by compassion, mercy, acceptance, tolerance, and peace, governing our words and actions by holding them up to the light of these divine qualities. 

All scriptures tell us that we are one with the Divine.  As such, it can only follow that we are not sinners or in any way insufficient to meet the task of life.  In fact, as God is with us, there is nothing that can be against us -- as long as we live in accordance with Divine principles.  We innately yearn to step into the Good News that was taught by Jesus and many others: We are one with the Divine, we have within us the very capabilities they modeled for us, the kingdom of Heaven is present and we have only to choose to live it. 

The emphasis in the deeper teachings of our religions is similar:  Unity with the Divine is our heritage and privilege and we are all called to live up to the highest potential the Divine created in us.  Clearly, something has been lost in the translations.  That can be changed, however.  And we have the power to change it.

Throughout all of my questioning, the one clear message I perceive is that a pervasive intelligent presence exists (that which I call God), and the ultimate expression of God in our lives is creative, expansive, and non-specific.  We limit our perception and experience of that.  It is who we are and it is not outside of us.  I believe it is the source and substance of everything, that everything that exists is both from God and of God.  I believe that no matter how we perceive or misperceive the presence of God, it's always there; complete, whole, perfect, and ready and willing to be a guiding presence in our lives.  We have only to recognize and accept it.

I've had to struggle to accept that I don't really know anything, despite everything that I've been taught.  But, in the willingness to not know anything, I am free to learn something.  My old ideas are constantly challenged as I allow new thoughts and concepts to percolate.  It's not easy to release those cherished religious traditions that are so deeply ingrained.  Those traditions defined my own identity, as well as my relationships with family, friends, coworkers, and community.  And it's sometimes difficult to think, speak, and act differently from those around me, or to sit in quiet tolerance of someone else's harsh and critical words.  Or to turn around and walk away from something that isn't supportive of life and individual free will, regardless of what others will think of me.  Or to live by a particular ideal even if it isn't popular or the acceptable "group-think" of the day while still respecting the beliefs of others.

Thich Nhat Hanh writes, "True love contains respect."  I choose the path of love.  Therefore, I must practice respect.  Acceptance of another's views, tolerance, and compassion are conscious choices that we have the power - and responsibility -- to make.  Acceptance and understanding don't require our agreement, but they do require our openness, receptivity, and compassion.  That active compassion opens doors to a greater awareness of the all-ness that God is because it allows us to see and experience the myriad expressions - both light and dark - created by the Creator.  Openness allows us to connect with each other, and in doing so, to connect with the fullness that is God.

We are not required to change each other; we are only required to change ourselves through deeper communion with the Divine.  I have a refrigerator magnet that reminds me daily of this concept:  "The vision that you glorify in your mind, the ideal that you enthrone in your heart - this you will build your life by, this you will become."  The artist attributes this quote to James Allen.

We can increase the awareness of God's Truth and enthrone its ideal in our hearts through spiritual study and practice.  That awareness transforms us.  We are not personally and deeply transformed through simple belief and faith in something someone else tells us is God's nature or will, although we can act it out and mimic it.  For honest, deeply personal communion with God and understanding of what God is creating uniquely in, though and as our own being, we must empty ourselves of any idea, teaching, belief or supposed understanding of what God is or is not.  A full vessel can only contain that which its boundaries allow it to contain.  We must be vessels with unlimited boundaries, allowing ourselves to perceive the fullness of the experience of the presence of God. 

I don't call myself a believer or person of faith.  To do so would be to imply that I could choose to believe that there is a power or presence that is greater than or equal to God, or to consider that there is a possibility that God does not exist.  Since I have had the direct experience of knowing God, I cannot relate to it from simple faith or belief.  Therefore, my journey and my practice are to know God.  In knowing God, I can only accept that its presence is real and never failing.  It is immanent and transcendent.  All I have to do is to take the time to perceive its presence and know that presence to be the breather of my breath while also knowing it as the source and substance of my breath.  To breathe the breath of God is to be fully alive and it gives us what we need to "ease on down the road."

Do I have the authority to write about God?  Who's really to say?  Most writings about God and spirituality have come from explorations similar to mine.  Who among us really is an expert?  I don't claim to be one.  But, what the heck.  Maybe these words will prompt you to consider your relationship with God.  Perhaps you'll embark on your own journey, to know your own understanding of Truth.  This is an invitation to discover the God in your heart and to live from it.

Where do the words on these pages come from?  I pray, meditate, and write.  Sometimes the writing is from my mind or my emotions, other times it's from someplace else.  I believe that "someplace else" is from the All That Is, the Infinite, the Divine, from God.  I am simply a seeker.  My understanding has evolved over time and I know it isn't perfect.  I also know it will continue to evolve as I delve more deeply into conscious awareness of the presence of the Divine.  I make no claims about these words.  I write them because they have a certain truth for me.  I share them for no other reason than to provide grist for the mill of your own contemplation.  This is, after all, only a book.

I'm simply a traveler on the journey home.  I endeavor to allow God's love to lead the way.  It makes the journey less stressful and more incredibly rewarding than I could make it on my own.

In the end, as it is every day, it will only be God and me.  There will be no religion or spiritual path; no ministers, preachers, teachers or gurus; no Great Mystery.  It will be my soul to God's soul; the God in me facing that which created it.

And God will ask, "Well, kiddo.  What did you learn?"  I will close my eyes, click together the heels of my ruby slippers and reply, "I learned that there's no place like home, and it was right here all along."

Karen E. Kelsay © 2006  All rights reserved.

 

Not too long ago, I decided I wanted to try again at "relationship."  I stated my intention that I desire to attract into my life a man with whom I could have a loving and harmonious relationship, one who would be in alignment with me mentally, intellectually, emotionally, financially, spiritually, energetically, and physically. 

Within a fairly short period of time, I met someone though an online matching service.  We corresponded via email for a couple of months, then chatted several times by phone and eventually met for coffee a couple of times.  It wasn't love at first sight, but I found his companionship enjoyable and we seemed to have much in common.  We began to make plans for a "real date" of hiking at a nearby favorite hiking spot.  The relationship appeared to be progressing easily and gently, and I was looking forward to spending time getting to know him.  And then one evening he called.  We chatted amiably, however as the discussion progressed I realized that this would be our last conversation.  He seemed to have had a change of heart regarding our newfound friendship and our hiking plans were canceled. 

I am grateful that the conversation ended simply and gracefully, however, after we hung up, I huffed and puffed and fumed and sputtered for about two minutes.  And then I became aware of a gentle presence and I perceived the message, "This isn't the relationship you've been asking for."  That stopped my sputterfest, and fast!  "Huh?" I demanded.  "We were getting along very nicely and seemed to have a lot in common!"  "You are asking for a relationship in which you connect on many levels," the presence said.  "This isn't that relationship."  Of course, I had to continue pressing my point so I insisted, "But it was fine a week ago!"  Gently, I was told that I was undergoing a period of rapid transformation and personal growth.  My vibration had shifted, and our frequencies were no longer in alignment.  I was told that I could continue to attempt to develop a relationship with this man, but due to the difference in our frequencies, it would be "disharmonious."  I was advised to wait for about six more months, when my current period of shifting levels off.  Otherwise, what would seem to be a good fit now might not be a good fit in five minutes.

I saw in an instant that this is exactly where so many relationships go awry.  We simply aren't in a harmonious vibration with the person we pursue.  Or, we start the relationship from an attraction that seems to have potential only to find later that what initially attracted us is no longer appealing.  I think that's because we either misperceived what we saw in the initial attraction, or one or the other party simply shifted into a different vibration as the relationship progressed.  We often keep trying anyway, only to experience hurt, rejection, or downright disaster later. 

And then we interpret that disconnect as some sort of failing - either our own or the other person's.  We take it personally and create blame and anger.  Sometimes, we can feel depressed at another apparent "relationship failure" and wonder if we'll ever find the love we've been seeking.  We might even believe (or someone may have tried to convince us to believe) that there is something wrong with us because we're not experiencing "happily ever after." 

Hurt creates an unpleasant aftertaste, and we begin to see relationship as a place rife with potential for unhappiness and heartache.  Still, we crave connection with another, so we develop strategies to avoid hurt in the future or to ensure that someone doesn't "take advantage" of us again.

We start to make decisions about the next relationship - what we will or won't accept from others or what we will or won't do in a relationship.  Sometimes that's appropriate, particularly if the previous relationship was physically, emotionally, financially or otherwise destructive to one or the other party. 

Most of the time, however, our perceived hurts have more to do with what the other person did or didn't do to support us in expressing our own idea of who we are.  What we're really doing when we enter a relationship is to enroll the other person to support us in who we think we are.  Most of us live from our wounds and warts, rather than from our health and wholeness.  So, when wounds are aggravated - which is guaranteed to happen when we approach a relationship from that place - we blame the other person for "hurting" us.  When in actuality, we've set ourselves up to be hurt because we already believe that we can't live any other way! 

Then, we judge the other person's response to us as being right or wrong, good or bad.  We break up because we didn't get our way (or the other person breaks it off because he or she didn't get his or her way), and we enter a period of relationship martyrdom.  We decide that we were the wronged party, and by golly - we're going to carry on regardless.  But, heaven help the next poor soul who catches our eye!  We're going to have relationship, but we're going to make it tough on ourselves and on the other person.  Or worse, we're going to shut down and never venture into those scary relationship domains again.  That certainly will teach the future him or her!

If we do decide to go back "out there," relationships too often are places where we express our wounds and employ strategies for new wound prevention.  We have "stuff" that we carry with us from one experience to another.  We dislike pain and we practice pain avoidance techniques, but strangely we do everything we can to keep that pain alive by remembering it over and over again!  Focusing on the perceived pain of the past only brings that pain into the present.  Ironically, wound-based decisions don't help us to create happy and harmonious new relationships.  Instead, they take us away from our true nature of being open, receptive, loving and giving, and they keep us in the pattern of creating challenging relationships. 

           

The majority of us want some pretty basic things in life - safety, security, happiness, love, prosperity, health, comfort, and so on.  We are natural-born manipulators.  This isn't a bad thing. We are born innately knowing how to create the life we want to create.  We do it automatically.  And, we unconsciously enlist everyone and everything around us to support us in our life view.  This is called the law of attraction, and through it we draw into our lives the people and circumstances that help us to create the life we desire (or are taught that we should desire). 

         

This is where we express our preferences, or our "likes" and "dislikes."  If we're attracted to someone, it's most likely because he or she has a similar vibrational level and the hope is that we'd have similar likes and dislikes.  This is fabulous when everything matches (a match made in Heaven, so to speak).  But, a mismatch may become evident down the road when we have a strong desire to experience one or two specific qualities and are attracted to a person who exhibits those qualities.  However, that person may not be in alignment with us on other very important issues and we find out that the relationship wasn't everything we had hoped it would be.  This can be a very painful realization and can cause serious problems.

For example, many years ago during a turbulent time in my life I craved sensibility and stability.  I began to notice a man I already knew and I appreciated his ability to maintain an even keel.  I perceived him as being solid and stable.  We dated and eventually married.  I loved this part of my life - everything was starting to fall into place and order was brought to chaos.             

What I realized with dismay, however, that this stability was actually brought about by a very strict and controlling personality.  I loved the stability, but balked at the sudden control of every part of my life.  He became physically, sexually, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and financially abusive as he tried to mold me into supporting his worldview.  I realized that my "stable" relationship with him wasn't in harmony with all of the other areas of my life.  I left the relationship after about three years.  It was an extremely difficult time and I nearly had a breakdown.  I no longer had a sense of who I was and I became fearful and insecure.  I blamed myself for everything that went wrong. 

With counseling I came to realize there was nothing wrong with me and regained my sense of self.  In recent years, I also began to realize that there really was nothing "wrong" with him and that he isn't a "bad" person.  He simply wanted life the way he wanted it and employed tactics to ensure that he got what he wanted.  I wanted life the way I wanted it.  Those ideas didn't match.  No one is to blame.  It was simply a circumstance.  I made an uninformed decision and reaped the consequences of it.

Sometimes, we misperceive our paramour's behavior as an expression of a particular quality or characteristic that we find attractive.  One of my marriages was to a man who I believed was a good listener and liked to do all the same things I enjoyed.  This was great when we were spending time getting to know each other.  After we married, I discovered that he simply had no desire to contribute to conversation and he also tended to go along with whatever idea I proposed.  He originated very few new ideas or activities.  I was the initiator and he simply nodded and went along.  Now, that might seem to be ideal, but in actual practice it became burdensome for me and eventually he started to perceive me as being domineering. 

Which brings me to consider that we all view life through different lenses based on our past experiences and decisions.  "This" means "that" in our worldview, but it means "the other thing" from another's viewpoint.  My husband thought I was demanding and dominating when I moved a project or activity through to completion.  I saw him is uncooperative and lazy when he didn't participate.  Which experience was true?  In either case, each of us didn't meet the needs or desires of the other. 

We unconsciously enlist everyone and everything around us to support us in our life view. This is natural; we generally are attracted to those people who want the same things we want.  This works well in a healthy relationship in which both partners are in alignment and both desire the highest and best life expression for themselves and each other.  However, this is called co-dependency when we are living in relationship for our own gratification and tacitly agree to support the other person's needs and desires in some areas in exchange for giving us what we want in other areas.  Most people really don't intend to hurt another.  They are simply trying to live in a way that protects them from pain and struggle or to fulfill a need, want, or desire. 

The interesting thing is that we are all taught a different version of how a "good" life looks and feels.  For example, one person's idea of safety and comfort might not match ours.  When the other person is living from his or her idea of safety or comfort we might not feel safe or comfortable ourselves.  If safety and comfort are high on our list of desires, this impacts our own quality of life.  Or we decide that, for the sake experiencing another desirable aspect of the relationship (great sex or a nice home, for example), we'll give up our idea of safety and comfort and adapt to the other person's habits.  If it's not that important, or if there is a willingness to allow for a different experience of those qualities, the vibration can shift and harmony can follow. 

Sometimes this works.  Sometimes, however, we see ourselves as having been manipulated into doing something we really didn't want to do in the first place.  Or, the other person "let us down" by not giving us what we believe we need to feel safe and secure.  We start down the road of blame and accusation, and we begin to feel victimized.  Interestingly, however, it wasn't the other person who created the perceived hardship in our lives - we did it to ourselves!

Wouldn't it be interesting to shift our relationship paradigm?  What would it be like to approach a new relationship or recreate a current relationship with an awareness and attitude of wholeness and openness? 

How interesting and invigorating it would be to explore ways of expressing our wholeness while giving space to our partner to be the best expression of himself or herself.  It's important to try to find a middle way in relationship, a way that meets the needs of both parties.  Differences wouldn't be taken as personal affronts; they'd be viewed as opportunities for growth and understanding.  We'd have the strength and courage to handle life's challenges instead of being disappointed or overcome by them.  

We'd discover that when we try something that doesn't work, we have the ability to survive and rise to a new level of understanding and be open to a new possibility for another experience instead of blaming, condemning and judging ourselves or the other person for something that "didn't work out."

I can't help but wonder why we don't celebrate the many ways love shows up in our lives?  I've come to recognize that love can be experienced many times over and it simply shifts as we grow and change.  How can we blame someone for having brought us the gift of love - even if it was transient?  There is a saying that it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.  Isn't it wonderful to know that we can feel attraction, affection and love?  Why does it matter that it might not be "happily ever after" with the same person?  Perhaps the love we used to know simply isn't big enough any longer, and it's time for us to be open to a deeper love that could only be possible through a relationship with another person. 

I'm not suggesting a regular practice of loving and leaving, or of multiple partner situations.  Everything I've studied and experienced about relationship from spiritual, energetic, societal, emotional, and psychological perspectives tells me that committed, monogamous relationship is preferable for a variety of reasons. 

Still, I wonder whether there really is a "one true love" for each of us.  We grow and change; it makes sense that what seemed like true love yesterday might not be appropriate today.  Our vibrational patterns might not be in sync and maybe they never were.  Perhaps falling in love with one person and living happily ever after is pretty unrealistic goal.  And, I wonder why we make it a goal at all. 

I do believe that some people are able to connect with one person for a lifetime.  They have the ability to move with life's challenges and to learn and grow while developing a deeper love, respect, connection and friendship with each other.  And, I think those situations are rare.

More often, I see relationships that endure simply for no other reason than fear of being alone, fear of being poor, worry about not having someone to take care of one, because it's the "right" thing to do, deeply entrenched co-dependence, or simply just from habit.  The bedrock of pain in those relationships is so plain to see.  It's etched in every line of the face and noticeable in every stiff and uncomfortable movement of the body and every challenged breath the person draws in. 

We also have differing perspectives about what "love" is. 

We enter a relationship because we want to have the experience of love.   That experience is different for each of us.  Primarily, this is because we all have a different idea of what love is.  From a human perspective, it's about a feeling or emotion - a sensation that fills the chest and helps us to feel more alive and more expansive.  We crave that feeling because our innate nature is creativity and expansiveness.  Being "in love" is an approximation of that inner quality that most of us have yet to deeply and authentically touch. 

I recently remembered a conversation my son and I shared a few years ago.  He was feeling puzzled and challenged by his relationship with a young woman.  He complained, "She's always saying, ‘I wish I knew what you were thinking' and I really don't understand what she wants to know!"  I had to laugh and explained to him that it's a "girl thing."  I told him that what she really wants to know is whether he's thinking about her, and whether he's thinking that he loves her.  His bafflement continued and he exclaimed in exasperation, "I'm really not thinking about much of anything!  Why do I have to keep telling her that I love her?"

Later, it occurred to me that what she's really asking is, "Am I lovable?"  She's looking to him to confirm to her that she is, indeed, worthy of loving and of being loved.  She wants to know that it's safe to express the love she feels and that he will accept that gift graciously and respectfully.  Unfortunately, in most cases, we don't gift that gift without strings.  We want the other person to love us in return for our gift of love.

"I love you" is a declarative statement.  However, how many times have you said it, waiting for the proper response:  "I love you, too."  It feels pretty awkward when those words aren't reflected back to us.  We start to worry, "Did I say the wrong thing?" "Doesn't he/she love me, too?"  "What if I love her/him and she/he doesn't love me back?"

What difference does the other person's response make?  Can't we simply enjoy the feeling of love that wells up within ourselves without imposing rules for loving on the person sitting on the other end of the sofa? 

Karen E. Kelsay © 2006  All rights reserved.

Who am I?  My self portrait begins with the same question I started to I ask myself as I undertook the reading assignments for a recent class.  Each of the articles, essays, and books caused me to delve more and more deeply into my assumptions about myself and my place in the world.  I began to recognize that much of what I thought myself to be is a representation of some portion of the "ideal" created by my culture, race, religion, education, economic status, and family.

The history behind my most dearly held beliefs peeled back layer after layer, revealing what I once thought to be truth.  In actuality, I never really questioned where those beliefs and ideas came from.  I knew there are other ways of looking at things, and that mine isn't the only viewpoint.  I also realized that I'm pretty much a product of my environment, and while I sometimes disagree with or challenge the status quo, I don't really do so with any great intention to change things.  However, I hadn't really questioned how I arrived at those conclusions or developed my thought habits. 

Gradually over the course of the semester I was startled by the recognition that my ideas are actually based on someone else's perceptions of what's correct or not correct.  I was dismayed to learn that some of those long-held societal assumptions were based in little more than supposition, fashion, and fear.  As the layers revealed themselves I found that the way I express myself is not truly representative of my values.  

I now have another question:  "Who do I wish to be?"  It is this that I chose to illustrate in my portrait.

I selected a medium that is fairly new to me: stained glass mosaic.  I have always had a fondness for glass.  I like its fluidity and its fragility, even while it is static and strong.  It can be smooth or textured, translucent or opaque.  It can be shaped, molded, cut and formed into articles both beautiful and functional. 

I enjoy craftwork and have created some pretty nifty pieces in various media over the years.  A couple of years ago I decided to start to learn how to work with glass.  Ultimately, I'd like to work with hot glass.  As I researched it, I realized that first I needed to become familiar with the way it feels and the way it can be shaped.  I took a short stained glass class last summer and learned some basic cutting and shaping techniques.  I bought the tools and some glass, intending to get involved with a project.  Alas, time and expense imposed themselves on that early enthusiasm and I haven't worked with glass as I had planned.

That seems to be a metaphor for life, as well.  I have the tools and skills to create something truly remarkable, but in the end I just go along from day to day and the remarkable remains buried in the work cabinet.  Sometimes I'm flexible, sometimes fragile.  At times I can sparkle and shine, while other times I'm clouded and opaque.

Whenever I embark on a craft project I never know exactly what form it's going to take.  I'll generally have a basic idea in mind, such as "wall-hanging" or "knick-knack box" and pick out my supplies with that in mind.  However, the piece reveals itself to me as I go along. 

This, too, seems to be a metaphor.  My life reveals itself to me as I uncover the layers.  I start out in one direction and eventually something else takes shape as new information becomes available or unexpected events occur.

As I set to work, I laid out the glass-working tools and made a trip to Michael's to pick up odds and ends.  I didn't know exactly what I would create.  At first I thought I'd make a small jewelry box or a picture frame festooned with stained glass mosaic.  Nothing in the store struck my fancy, so I looked around for other materials.   I was drawn to an area filled with wooden plates and plaques.  Adjacent to that shelf were mirrors and next to those were little bags of tumbled glass.  I gathered these materials as an idea started to form.

When I sat down at home to leaf through my stained glass patterns I thought perhaps I would do a simple rose and affix it to the mirror and frame it with the plaque. 

Ultimately, I came upon the water lily.  This plant also is known as a lotus.  To me, the flower symbolizes calmness and beauty.  From a spiritual perspective, it represents a flowering or opening to consciousness of the Divine presence.  I knew this was to be the pattern for my piece.

This particular pattern actually is created for a stained glass piece.  The spacing between the elements in the piece is much different from the spacing required for a mosaic.  It required adapting the pattern for the purpose of the project.  This is a fairly simple process because the artisan uses a different type of scissors for the cut out.  However, the spacing needs to be taken into account for the overall project. 

Again, this is like life.  I need to be able to use the skills and tools I have at hand and modify the raw materials to fit my circumstance.         

I chose a light pink, slightly textured, opaque glass for the flower.  The color striations and  the wavelike texture require careful attention to the placement of the pattern so there is cohesiveness to the overall piece.  The glass itself is a little more difficult to work with because it's a harder glass and the texture can cause chipping and cracking while shaping the glass.            

This also is the most expensive piece of glass in my collection.   Minerals are added to silica to color the molten glass.  Gold is added to create pinks and reds, which makes them expensive and fairly valuable.  It's a very difficult process.  Reds also can be volatile and fade over time.   The ancient alchemists tried to create gold from non-precious metal.  Today, this precious gold is used to create something as elusive and unique.  I am amazed by the modern alchemy that allows the gold to be simultaneously dynamic and ethereal.

Another reason I chose light pink for the flower was to symbolize the softness and femininity I'm trying to reclaim in my life.  Eastern mysticism teaches that surrender is the path to freedom.  I am a very successful, driven and at times aggressive go-getter.  I learned to be a survivor.  Today, I want to be one who lives and who allows life to live itself through me, rather than forcing something to come about that might not be for my highest and best good, or the highest and best good for others.

I carefully cut and shaped the glass, enjoying the feel of the vibration in my fingers as I ground the glass on my water grinder.  The mist was cool and dripped from my fingertips as it captured the glass dust, preventing the tiny particles from becoming friable. 

Once the petals were formed, I began to assemble the piece.  I hadn't worked with glass on glass before, nor had I worked with silicone glue.  I enjoyed the sense of anticipation, while at the same time feeling a little insecure about whether I was using the materials properly, concerned about the results.  Working with these media was an interesting experience as I carefully forged ahead.  A little glue oozed around the edges of a couple of petals.  It set too fast and I was unable to remove it, leaving the piece slightly flawed -- at least in my mind.  Still, the effect didn't significantly alter the overall piece and I was pleased with the final outcome.

The wooden plaque represents the foundation of my life.  I left the wood unpainted to symbolize that I am an unfinished work.  The wood is soft and easily shaped, yet it holds it shape for as long as it is intended to do so.

The mirror on the plaque reflects many symbols.  It is a calm surface, similar to that which water lilies require to flourish.   It is reflective, which represents a couple of different ideas.  The first is that we come to know our own truth by being still and reflecting on the presence of the Divine within us.  The second idea is that our outer experience is a reflection of our inner state.  Peaceful people lead peaceful lives and troubled people lead troubled lives.  I can see where I am "inside" by paying attention to what's going on "outside." 

The water lily floats on the mirrored surface.  Originally, I was going to grout the inner portion of the lily, leaving the outer edge of the mirror visible.  However, as I worked with the piece, I decided that the simplicity and "airiness" of the mirror showing through the petals was very appealing.

I affixed pieces of tumbled glass to the outer portion of the plaque.  These serve both as a frame and as additional symbolism in the overall piece.  Green is my favorite color.  To me it is warm, cozy, and welcoming.  It's the color of the heart chakra, which represents love and wholeness.  The nature of the Divine is love, and I strive to keep that in my awareness.  I used various shades of green because life is varied.  Additionally, the individual pieces of glass have various shapes and sizes, representing even more variety in the world around me.  Finally, the pieces are layered to symbolize the many layers of my personality, feelings, emotions, thoughts, and ideas.  They are all different and occupy different places in my Being, yet together they create a unique and beautiful whole.

I sat back to admire my handiwork.  For something that evolved seemingly on its own with just a bit of help from me, I was surprised to notice that it looked exactly as it was supposed to look.  There was nothing more I could do to improve it.

It received a favorable response from my instructor and was admired by my classmates.  Currently, it has a place on my altar.  Most of the time I pass by, not noticing it as it gathers dust.  Occasionally it catches my eye and I smile in satisfaction.  I made that, and it didn't turn out too badly.

Still, I haven't answered the question, "Who do I wish to be?" and I probably never will.  It continues to evolve and change as I look into the mirror.

Karen E. Kelsay © 2007  All rights reserved.

It's raining this morning, which coincides with the way I feel after finishing Jonothan Kozol's "Amazing Grace" last night.  What does one write after reading a work like this?  What kind of an opinion, thought, or feeling should one have?  I'm tempted to try to post a blog full of anger, indignation, and blame.  It would certainly make me feel better and perhaps ingratiate me with my fellow like-minded souls.  After all, that's the "correct" and "expected" response from a liberal, educated, compassionate person.  But I can't do that. 

I feel numb, resigned to what is and to knowing that there is absolutely nothing I can do to change the human condition.  Should I apologize for that?  Or, should I simply accept that's the way I feel and continue to live my life?  I doubt that I'm the first person on the planet who's grappled with these questions.  Is resignation a defense mechanism, or simply the most logical and productive response?

Kozol briefly mentioned "compassion fatigue," that state of mind that I think I'm describing.  We are immersed in a constant onslaught of events that affect scores of people who need our compassion and attention -- the attacks on the Twin Towers, the unjustified military action in Iraq, the constant lies and deceit of our government and its allies, last year's tsunami, hurricanes Katrina and Wilma, the earthquake in Pakistan, the bird flu outbreak -- and so much more that I can't begin to address the list of the causes of human suffering.  And yet, none of this is new. 

Natural disasters, war, famine, poverty, plague, deceitful and manipulative leaders, haves and have-nots have existed since humans first began to gather into clans and tribes.  Where do we focus our compassion?  To whom do we express our indignation?  How does one solve problems that are as old as humankind?  

We're approaching the holiday season, and my church is gathering food, clothing, and furniture to donate to area shelters.  We do this every year, as has every church to which I have belonged.  Businesses are acting as collection centers for their customers to contribute food to the food bank, and annual pleas for donations abound.  I give to these causes every year.  I know it's a small response to an overwhelming problem.  My giving is tinged with guilt, recognizing that my pitiful attempt to ameliorate a little bit of suffering pales against the overwhelming unjustness of homelessness, hunger, and despair in a nation that is supposed to be rich and powerful. 

But, what more can I do?  I have my own problems - and I say this not to justify my inability to save the world.  I do believe that most people have this perspective.  We're just trying to live our lives.  The lives of others just aren't on our radar unless someone raises our awareness.  There's always something to occupy our energy and divert our money.  For the last year, an unethical employer who failed to pay my full wages forced me into bankruptcy.  Thanks to a new job (which took several months to land) I now have enough money to take care of myself, but not much more than that.  At least I haven't had to collect unemployment or apply for MediCal - making those limited resources available to people who have fewer opportunities than I do.  Isn't that worth something?  Can I be forgiven for being born into a life that gave me the skills and hopefulness that motivated me to dig my way out of a difficult situation? 

Yes, I have opportunities that the people in Kozol's book don't have.  I have benefited from the education, health care, food, clothing, and shelter that my parents provided to me while I was growing up.  But there was a time when these benefits weren't guaranteed.  We were on "general relief" when I was little, my mom having left an abusive marriage during a time when women's shelters didn't exist and job opportunities for women were nearly non-existent.  People didn't even believe that husbands could be abusive, so she met with rejection from her church and family.  We didn't live in a ghetto such as was described in Kozol's book -- but we were not living in the best part of Rochester.  I guess my mom was lucky.  She was born white, had a good high school education, and was raised in a circle of family and friends with similar levels of education and opportunities.  Fortunately, she had a large pool of potential husbands from which to draw.  Her brother introduced her to the man who raised me.  He had a high school education, a good union job, and was raised with what we call "family values."  She often credits this marriage with having saved her, my brother and me from a life of poverty, although I think she probably would have had other opportunities for a reasonably secure marriage, given her background.

Kozol noted that the women in the South Bronx aren't as lucky.  They are confined to their location by a combination of factors, many of which aren't their choice or their fault.  They have a very limited pool of potential husbands from which to choose.  There is no way out for these families. 

The systematic abuse that put them there is unjust, unfair, and inhumane.  Who is to blame?  What can be done to change it?  There is no simple answer and attempts to make changes tend to fail.  Kozol referenced the building of a number of houses that ultimately fell into the same despair as their surrounding neighborhood.  I think city leaders and philanthropists also experience their own sense of "compassion fatigue," recognizing that the problem of poverty has been unsolvable.  There is the argument that resources are limited and decisions are made to focus those resources in areas that ostensibly benefit the most people. 

Yes, those who benefit are the political contributors and voters.  And, they are the majority of the citizenry.  That's the way our system works.  It's certainly not a system that serves the entire population.  I find the "limited resources" argument to be lame, particularly following yesterday's announcement of record-breaking profits for Exxon-Mobil.  Resources are not limited, but they are confined.  Henry A. Giroux writes that 51 of the world's top 100 economies are businesses and that the incomes of just 358 business people equal the combined incomes of 45 percent of the world's population.  (Giroux, "Impure Acts:  The Practical Politics of Cultural Studies," 112)  The portion of this country's wealth assigned to social services is shrinking, so it seems that the problem isn't "social services" but rather, social conscience.  

And yet, our founding fathers didn't create a system of social services.  They constructed a system that, if it worked as it was intended to work and everyone participated in the spirit in which it was envisioned, was supposed to benefit all people by enabling and empowering them to create their own wealth and security.  But, that system degraded, just as Communism degraded.  These failures are grounded in the basic human frailty of greed. 

I really have to question whether there is an overall conspiracy created by "them" to keep the poor poor.  I do think that the interests of the wealthy are primarily for the wealthy.  The poor simply get pushed out of the way at worst, used at best.  The general population is anesthetized to their plight for the most part.  We simply don't see the problems (a local comedian refers to Americans as "not-sees").  Giroux blames this in part on the media being concentrated in the hands of the world's wealthiest people and corporations.  Their messages create a rosier picture of life in this country and in the world in general.  The idea of what culture should be is presented to us daily.  The constantly repeating messages become hypnotic, and we begin to accept the hype as reality. 

The real reality is that there are and always have been haves and have-nots.  There are people who abuse and there are those who submit to abuse.  It doesn't matter what level of society one occupies.  Political operatives and the wealthy abuse their positions of power to maintain that power.  Drug dealers and pimps abuse those who are poorer than they are to maintain their power. 

Poverty traditionally has been seen as a disease or a situation that one could overcome if one simply applied oneself.  It's a basic Christian principle.  We are supposed to toil, and through our hard work we are lifted up and rewarded.  Our work and sacrifices are supposedly a way to glorify God.  Those who don't work hard and do what the rest of us are willing and able to do are seen as deficient in some way.  They're not doing what they have been commanded to do by God.  Giving alms to the poor also is a basic Christian principle.  It's as if God recognized that poverty and sickness are simply an intrinsic part of the human experience.  The very Christianity that gave hope and faith to the residents of the South Bronx is the same Christianity that condemns them for being where they are.  And, it's the same Christianity that motivates people to "do the right thing" from time to time and support the agencies that attempt to provide some relief to the poor and sick.  There but for the grace of God go each of us.

The poor have always existed and have always been shifted out of "polite society."  The desperation of the impoverished poses a threat to the health, safety, and security of the rest of the community.  Confinement helps to keep the crime rate down elsewhere, and it serves as an incentive to others to keep working hard.  England's poorhouses and debtors' prisons were the precursors to the ghettos and slums of America.  The American west was settled by freed slaves, indentured servants, and others who went west because they didn't have the education or money to fit into the society of the time.  The territory was open and available to any and all who could tame and survive the rigors of the wilderness. 

There is no more open territory to homestead.  If one can't afford a home in Manhattan, one lives in the South Bronx.  And the rest of us just live our lives.

Karen E. Kelsay © 2005  All rights reserved.

 "If you do that, people won't like you."  "What will everyone think?"  I can't even begin to guess at the number of times I heard those admonitions as I was growing up.  It was the mantra of all of the adults around me. 

Fit in or be punished.  Until now, I hadn't really thought about how much that constant, silent mantra impacts my interaction with my little piece of the world.  I just do what I do with an unconscious concern about how others will perceive me.  Hence, I'm automatically modifying my words or actions to conform to the context of whatever group I'm involved with at any particular moment.

A group is a living organism and individuals within a group self identify by their affiliation with the group.  For the economic, cultural, and libidinal privileges of belonging to a group, there must be a trade-off of individual freedom.  In his book, "Civilization and its Discontents," Freud states, "The development of civilization imposes restrictions on it, and justice demands that no one shall escape those restrictions."  (Freud, 42-43)

Individual rights are sublimated to the rights of the group.  According to Freud, "The power of...community is then set up as ‘right' in opposition to the power of the individual....  This replacement of the power of the individual by the power of a community constitutes the decisive step of civilization.  ...The members of the community restrict themselves in their possibilities of satisfaction, whereas the individual knew no such restrictions."  (Freud, 42)

Conformity ensures the perpetuation of the group, as well as supporting the group's individual members in their own sense of "rightness."  If you challenge the group, you also challenge the individuals within the group.   According to C. Wright Mills, "When [people] cherish values but...feel them to be threatened, they experience a crisis - either as a personal trouble or a public issue.  And if all their values seem involved, they feel the total threat of panic." (Mills, "The Sociological Imagination, p. 11)  To this end, certain norms are created and must be adhered to by its members.  Individuals within the group are controlled externally by force or the threat of force (Peter Berger, "Invitation to Sociology, p. 70), and internally by guilt (Freud, 83).  Exile is the ultimate punishment for non-conformance with the group.

Adjusting our thinking, speech and behavior to match that of those around us is second nature.  Berger notes that "...society penetrates the insides of our consciousness" (Berger, 82). 

Freud's premise is that this society-modified behavior is not really an expression of our intrinsic nature and is the cause of human suffering.  He says humankind's basic temperament is to be isolated, but its aggressive and libidinous nature requires its members to interact with others.  (Freud 48, 59)  Since aggressiveness and erotic tendencies can create chaos within a group, the group's needs force the individual to repress those native instincts. We want to be happy (experience pleasure by exercising our aggression or libido), however, society places restrictions on when, where, and how we can obtain pleasure.  According to Freud, these restrictions prevent us from obtaining pleasure and sets up a constant desire for happiness, which cannot be achieved. 

This artificially imposed restraint creates feelings of non-pleasure.  We must keep a lid on the cauldron of our aggression, and to prevent its boiling over we turn that aggression inward.  Per Freud, this is the basis of neurosis.  "In order to fend off certain unpleasurable excitations arising from within, the ego can use no other methods than those which it uses against unpleasure coming from without, and this is the starting-point of important pathological disturbances."  (Freud, 15)

At first, I disagreed with Freud's assertion that humankind is basically sadistic and aggressive, and it's these tendencies that have to be regulated by codes of acceptable behavior.  However, after reading "A Pirandellian Prison," I revised my opinion.  I was struck by the way in which the guards assumed an inhumane authority over the prisoners.  In one guard's diary, he states that he initially didn't want to assert that kind of power.  But, not to do so would create the impression of weakness.  So he developed an aggressive attitude, which ultimately overtook him.  In studying history I have made the assumption that members of certain groups were immoral, bad, evil, etc.  Now, however, it appears that peer pressure and keeping up appearances are strong motivational forces.  For most of us in "polite" society, that external pressure at least keeps us on our good behavior.  But under certain circumstances, good intentions are buried beneath group dynamics, ultimately changing the way a person behaves.

Berger explains this process by saying, "To be located in society means to be at the intersection point of specific social forces. Commonly one ignores these forces at one's peril.  One moves within society within carefully defined systems of power and prestige.  And once one knows how to locate oneself, one also knows that there is not an awful lot that one can do about this."  (Berger, 67)  In the case of the mock prison, guards weren't given a carefully defined system of power.  They were given loose guidelines and ultimately engaged in abusive and inhumane behavior.  This research suggests that society's creation of rules for moderating behavior is vital to the survival of humankind.

Mills agrees that individuals feel trapped "by the private orbits in which they live; their visions and their powers are limited to the close-up scenes of job, family, neighborhood.... And the more aware they become, however vaguely, of ambitions and of threats which transcend their immediate locales, the more trapped they seem to feel."  (Mills, 3)  However, Mills differs from Freud in that he does not believe that the individual's own "darkness" is the problem; rather, he quotes Ernest Jones as saying, "Man's chief danger today lies in the unruly forces of contemporary society itself...in a word, its pervasive transformations of the very ‘nature' of man and the conditions and aims of his life."  (Mills, 13)   Mills also says that the large institutions in which individuals must operate can have a greater impact on the psyche than childhood and family.  (Mills, 12)  The greatest sense of unease, according to Mills, is the result of the individual's inability to "...control the structural transformations that usually lie behind [their personal struggles]."  (Mills, 4)

Mills suggests that there are ways for individuals to transcend, to some degree, the trapped feelings generated by the structure of one's society.  Participation in the political process and involvement with public issues allow the individual to have a sense of understanding, thereby mitigating the sense of unease one feels in his or her social circumstance. (Mills, 5)

Freud states that these societal restrictions are not present at birth, but are learned or acquired.  "...the adult's ego-feeling cannot have been the same from the beginning.  It must have gone through a process of development, which cannot, of course, be demonstrated but which admits of being constructed with a fair degree of probability."  (Freud, 13)

Berger supports this by saying, "Many of [these] elements...touched on are enforced by external controls in any given class milieu" and "Each class milieu forms the personality of its constituency by innumerable influences beginning at birth and leading up to graduation....  Only when these formative influences have somehow failed to achieve their objective is it necessary for the mechanisms of social control go into action."  (Berger, 81-82)

The things that drive us crazy are customs, mores, taboos, and norms that are rooted in the far distant past.  Tradition is hard to overcome, and we often display an attachment or affection for it - even when it has economic and emotional impact on our lives (Thanksgiving and Christmas trauma are but two examples).  It's the way it is because that's the way it's always been.  We may not recognize that certain things we expect from our families, neighbors, and co-workers today had their beginnings hundreds of years ago in an archaic and underdeveloped society.  All that matters today is that we and the people around us do what we're expected to do with little or no variation.  "Most of the time the game has been ‘fixed' long before we arrive on the scene," writes Berger.  "All that is left for us to do, most of the time, is to play it with more or with less enthusiasm.   ...Impressive systems of controls and sanctions stand guard over these limits."  (Berger, 87)

And yet, Mary Catherine Bateson paints a different picture of community.  Hers was also the only article to describe the mores and social customs of non-Western cultures.  It's clear that all cultures create social, racial, educational, monetary, and other stratifications, complete with rules and codes of conduct.  While living among non-Western cultures, she learned to adapt to unique construction of their societies.  She did not isolate herself and found a deeper sense of self, even while allowing the larger community to enfold her. 

In her book, "Peripheral Visions," she describes personhood as a gift to be shared within community.  (Bateson, 62)  In her view, downplaying of the importance of relationship restricts the growth and development of community.  Additionally, independence from the community restricts the emotional well-being and sense of belonging for the individual.  "...For it is not the individual organism that survives but the organism in the environment that gives it life."  (Bateson, 72)

The conflict between the individual and society is inevitable.  The relationship, however challenging, is symbiotic and the tension between the individual and society does create opportunities for growth.  Through that growth, norms eventually change although they continue to play their role in modifying individual behavior within the society at large.

Despite feelings of entrapment, the individual still makes his or her mark in the world and enjoys a certain amount of individual expression within the group.  "By the fact of his living [he/she] contributes, however minutely, to the shaping of [his/her] society and to the course of its history, even as [he/she] is made by society and by its historical push and shove."  (Mills, 6)

"Just as a planet revolves around a central body as well as rotating on its own axis, so a human individual takes part in the course of development of mankind at the same time as he pursues his own life path.  But to our dull eyes the play of forces in the heavens seems fixed in a never-changing order; in the field of organic life we can still see how the forces contend with one another, and how the effects of the conflict are continually changing.  So, also, the two urges, the one towards personal happiness and the other towards union with other human beings, must struggle with each other in every individual; and so also, the two processes of individual and of cultural development must stand in hostile opposition to each other and mutually dispute the ground.  But this struggle between the individual and society is not a derivative of the contradiction - probably an irreconcilable one - between the primal instincts of Eros and death.  It is a dispute within the economics of the libido, comparable to the contest concerning the distribution of libido between ego and objects; and it does admit of an eventual accommodation in the individual, as, it may be hoped, it will also do in the future of civilization, however much that civilization may oppress the life of the individual today."  (Freud, 88)

Ultimately, while reading about the various theories and conclusions, it's clear that nothing is concrete.  It's all abstract.  I think for me, the important thing to keep in mind is that the individual is shaped by her/his society, the interrelationship is unavoidable, and individual helps to affect change in the society through interaction with it.

NOTE:  The articles by Mills and Clifford Geertz didn't seem to me to really increase my understanding of the individual's place within society.  Rather, they seemed to be more of a critique of social science, anthropology, and ethnography.  I came away from those readings with a sense of caution about the opinions of those who practice these professions.  They make invaluable contributions to the understanding of the individual and his/her place in society and how those societies are formed.  Their questions help me to question myself.  However, the studies are conducted and interpreted by individuals and groups with varying perspectives and degrees of empathy with their subjects.  Erich Fromm's "The Crisis of Psychoanalysis" was similar in that it was an interpretation of Freud's theories, pointing out some of the discrepancies and challenges with Freud's shifting viewpoints over the course of his work.  Fromm's article was more succinct and less repetitive and verbose than "Civilization and its Discontents."  For me, Freud's theories were more easily digested in Fromm's work than in Freud's own writing. 

Karen E. Kelsay © 2005  All rights reserved.

I suspect that, despite some refinements in consciousness and comfort, we are absolutely driven by basic needs.  We want security, food, shelter, and comfort.  This can be accomplished on an individual basis, but occurs with greater ease if one lives within a cooperative group of some kind. 

I think aggression occurs not as a basic human drive to be sadistic, but to ensure that our needs are met.  What isn't given or obtained easily through cooperation, barter, or other non-destructive methods is coerced or taken.   We started on this planet as individuals, struggling to survive in a harsh environment.  Much of early man's time was taken up with basic survival.  Cooperation led to improved survival through division of labor and sharing of resources obtained by that labor.  It led to the establishment of roles, rules, and rituals to ensure the survival of the group. 

If Nog was the hunt leader the group needed to ensure that he would do his job or they'd go hungry.  Peer pressure was born.  If Nog preferred to drink fermented berry juice and hang out with Noggette, the group would increase pressure to obtain food.  Ultimately, if Nog ignored the requirements of the group, someone would step up to do the job.  If Nog objected, he was bopped on the head by the person most capable of overtaking him, thus solving the food supply problem.  Since this process seems to ensure the survival of the group, why fix a system that seems to work?  Better yet, let's see if we can fine tune it so that we can get people to do other things we'd like them to do.

Disputes are about acquiring resources.  Resources are our means of survival.  We no longer live in sparsely populated agrarian societies.  But our basic needs are still the same.  In our culture, those needs have different nuances and disguises.  And, since for many of us the basic necessities are available if we conform to the norms of our culture, the struggle for food and shelter has been replaced by the struggle to acquire the things we've been convinced we must have. 

Most of us crave connection with other people.  I don't know if this is just habit, entrained over the millennia, or if it is human nature.  Whatever the reason, we seek to be with others who have similar interests.  Even when we're forced into environments where we can't control who we're sitting or working next to, we seek those who are most like us.  We find comfort and a sense of "rightness" with others who share our opinions, tastes, and customs.  We view as rude anyone who doesn't fit our idea of correct behavior. 

And yet, we're hurt when someone does the same to us.  A sharp rebuke from a co-worker or committee member who disapproves of my communication style or doesn't like the way I handled a project can send me scurrying to lick my wounds and reform myself to fit the desired mold.  We don't like to be disliked or excluded by those around us.  Most of us will conform because we must do so to get our needs met. 

Still, there are people who have needs other than those that can be met by society.  In those cases, people might choose to step out of the larger society.  Some do so to devote themselves to a specific purpose, such as monks or nuns.  Others can't or won't conform and move to isolated areas and refuse to interact with nearby communities unless absolutely necessary.  Even within these more isolated groups and individuals, there are rules, customs, and stratifications.  It's almost as if we simply can't live without having a sense of where we fit within the larger whole. 

We often view people who aren't "like us" with suspicion and fear.  Just today, as a friend and I were having lunch in Santa Rosa, a woman came into the outdoor seating area behaving "strangely" (e.g., outside of what many of us would consider to be normal or appropriate behavior in a restaurant).  She was having a very lively conversation with various people that the rest of us couldn't see.  She was dressed in a way that I would describe as "haphazard."  Her makeup, clearly carefully applied, was unique.  The reaction of the patrons was pretty much the same.  We averted our eyes, conversation ceased, and body language communicated unease.  She started to smoke a cigarette, which was within her rights in an outdoor seating area.  Some people objected to her smoking, but I wonder whether they were simply trying to make her uncomfortable enough to leave.   The server was gracious and approached the woman politely, taking her order and giving her the same attentive service she gave to the rest of us.  My friend and I hurried through our salads and asked that our sandwiches be wrapped to go.  I'm not proud of this reaction, but I also felt fearful with this woman so close to me.  My need in this situation was for personal safety. 

Working for several years in downtown San Diego I saw many who are generally described as "street people."   There were stories of violence and harassment inflicted by these denizens on business people who were walking from parking lots to their places of business.   Are we correct to label as incorrigible and shun anyone who fits the "street person" description?  What about Hell's Angels, Neo-Nazis, and gang members?  Are we simply acting from self preservation when we shy away from people who are perceived as dangerous?  Or are we acting from some type of xenophobia simply because these groups are somehow "beneath" those of us who are more "civilized?"

On the other side of the coin, what about the wealthy and highly privileged?   My former husband and I lived in Napa Valley for a while.  When shopping or running errands in St. Helena, we often received what we came to call "The St. Helena once-over."  Those who clearly "belonged" in St. Helena would glance up and down at us and step in front of us in line at Sunshine Market.  We clearly weren't one of them, and therefore, there appeared to be no reason for these people to treat us with any respect or dignity.  Eventually, we began to give as good as we got.  We would glance with as much disdain as came our way.  Sometimes we'd do a preemptive glare, almost as if to say, "You can't disrespect me because I've disregarded you first."  In this situation, the need that I had was for dignity and respect.  I took action to at least give myself the impression of having met that need.

My behavior isn't as barbaric as that described throughout history.  But, I can see how we manipulate our environments and others to accomplish our desired outcome.  If it's for basic survival, we might become brutal.  If it's a more subtle requirement, we brutalize others more politely.  Even in our insistence on getting what we want or need, we follow the rules of the situation. Is that our basic human nature?  Or is it a learned contrivance?

Karen E. Kelsay © 2005  All rights reserved.

This exploration discusses the ways in which human psychological and moral development come from a combination of the individual's view of itself and its relationship to its environment. 

Based on the data explored by each of the writers in a recent group of readings, we are hard-wired to grow and change and there seems to be a template for that growth -- development is not helter skelter.  There are basic stages and each writer has his or her own way of identifying each stage based on that writer's theory and observations, which are made from that particular theorist's own world view.  While there are differences in descriptions, terminology, and proposed reasons for each stage, all of the writers appear to be in agreement that development occurs progressively and each progression occurs at about roughly the same point in each individual's life.  The reading was very helpful in coming to greater understanding about how we develop our beliefs, behaviors, and moral codes as individuals and as members of groups. 

Even those of us who are "non-theorists" have pretty general assumptions about what we consider to be "normal" at each stage in life.  This is based on observing and interacting with our family members, peers, and others in our environment.  Most of the kids in our second grade class behaved pretty much the way we did.  Most of the people with whom we work, go to school, or who stand in line with us at the grocery store function and interact socially pretty much the way we do.  And, based on observation and interaction we can generally see when someone among us seems to be stuck in an "abnormal" behavior or cognitive pattern. 

I have often wondered why, in this country of general wealth where most of us have access to many of the same services and opportunities, so many people live in poverty and despair.  Wilber's model helped me to understand more about why this is so.  It does appear that we are products of both nature and nurture. 

When I see a gang member behave in a way that I interpret as "antisocial," I now understand that he or she is operating within a particular fulcrum and center of gravity.  His/her moral code is consistent with his/her group's.  I can't expect that person to understand my point of view, nor can I expect that person to simply leap up the ladder to a more "acceptable" (not the best word, but I'm using it for brevity) mode of behavior in the community at large. 

Wilber explains that we can't go from fulcrum one to fulcrum six without first going through fulcrums two through five.  It's not possible to make such a quantum leap because our consciousness must build on and incorporate what we already know.  Don Beck, a contemporary of Wilber's, addresses this in "Spiral Dynamics" by saying that you can't expect someone who is operating from a tribal level - such as a gang member who is only focused on individual survival through acceptance within the tribe - to operate from a world view that values life and includes compassion for others without first assisting that person in developing an awareness and experience of the steps beyond tribalism and basic survival.

Carl Jung's observations about consciousness in "The Stages of Life" were fairly broad.  He suggests that our turning away from instinct creates consciousness, and consciousness creates our problems.  He states that the "biblical fall of man presents the dawn of consciousness as a curse." (Jung, 3 - I did a little research on this book.  It was a collection of works written by Carl Jung and edited by Joseph Campbell.  Campbell was not the writer.) And he also says that, while we would dearly like to avoid our problems we really can't do so.  We must meet our problems and must grow in consciousness to do so.  Page eight identifies the theme of Jung's essay, "...the problem of the stages of life" after dealing briefly with infancy and childhood. 

He then focuses the rest of his essay on the periods of youth (the ages between puberty and middle age) and what he refers to as the second half of life.  These periods correlate to Wilber's "conventional" and "post-conventional" stages and Erikson's "fidelity" and "care" stages. 

All three theorists suggest that the period covering youth is that time during which individuals begin to identify themselves as beings separate from their environments.  Developmental energy is focused on being accepted and learning and adopting the processes associated with gaining acceptance.  This is a difficult time in one's development because this is where the tender psyche can be bruised, resulting in "abnormal" pathology.  This pathology can affect later development and damage can range from mild to severe, impacting the individual's ability to function within the rest of his or her group.  Wilber's says that most people, however, tend to be able to limp along with relative functionality. 

All three writers also identify the later years as providing a sort of crisis time for the individual. Jung states that the frequency of depression increases in men around the age of forty, and earlier in women. (Jung, 12) Erikson notes that this is a period of "integrity vs. despair."  (Erikson, 61)  Wilber identifies this stage with "fulcrum 4," also identified as the stage of care and concern, which tends to be sociocentric and ethnocentric. (Wilber, 182) 

It appeared to me that Jung and Erikson had vague and very broad explanations for this "mid-life crisis" stage.  Wilber's discourse seemed to have more depth and made the most sense to me.  This is a time in our lives during which we re-evaluate the rules under which we have lived our game of life.  The kids are grown and presumably on their own.  Education is complete, careers defined and established, and relationships have dropped into a predictable groove.  We now have more time to think.  Suddenly, we realize we're not who we really want to be and feel lost and unfulfilled.  Wilber describes this as "script pathology," arising from false social scripts we began running earlier in our lives. (Wilber, 183)  The self believes the lie and we live from that place, creating depression.  Our instinctive self, described earlier by Jung, is repressed.  This makes sense, based on the earlier stage wherein we adopted the scripts we were given in an effort to be accepted.  According to Wilber, the way back to the authentic self is to reveal the false script and dispel the lie.

I appreciated Gilligan's work and it helped me to understand one view of why women have been misunderstood for so long.  We have been viewed through the lens of males and compared with men.  She identifies the differences between men and women in their moral development by presenting research showing that men are rule based and women are relationship based. 

Gilligan's work refuted Freud's assumptions about women's morality.  Her research included surveys done by other researchers who were also women and who included women as their subjects.  They didn't use a male model to explain female behavior and attitudes.  According to Gilligan, "When one begins with the study of women and derives developmental constructs from their lives, the outline of a moral conception different from that described by Freud, Piaget, or Kohlberg begins to emerge and informs a different description of development. 

In this conception, the moral problem arises from conflicting responsibilities rather than from competing rights and requires for its resolution a mode of thinking that is contextual and narrative rather than formal and abstract.  This conception of morality as concerned with the activity of care centers moral development around the understanding of responsibility and relationships, just as the conception of morality as fairness ties moral development to the understanding of rights and rules."  (Gilligan, 19)  She adds that this is the reason women seemed to "fail" to develop within Kohlberg's system.  She suggests that theorists need to divide their attention and begin to study women with the same intensity that they have studied men to have a more complete and fertile basis for their models of development.

Although Freud's work was somewhat narrow, it nonetheless served as the launching point for other work, such as Gilligan's.  And, Freud's theories and experiments were in accordance with his sociocentric and conventional stance.  Based on Wilber's description of "fulcrums" in "A Brief History of Everything," Freud couldn't have approached his own work any differently.  Freud's world view was based on where he and his contemporaries were in their own evolution of consciousness.  Their center of gravity hadn't expanded past the conventional thinking of the time.  Their successors deepened the dialogue and created a new world view, encompassing the old views while expanding them to include new theories and experiments. 

These theories and experiments combined to provide a preponderance of evidence to support the idea that human development takes place in stages and that these stages are pervasive and cross-cultural.  Each stage has its "healthy" and "unhealthy" expressions.  We can't escape personal growth, although it may be stunted from time to time.

In the beginning, we identify with our physical and emotional environments.  As we begin to differentiate from our environment, we see ourselves as separate individuals having to survive and exist within our particular situation.  That's when we learn to conform to the rules of those environments.  Eventually, however, our conforming begins to create challenges for us because the roles we play may not be in sync with our unconscious idea of who we are.  We begin to question the rules and to turn from them.  If we don't, we experience depression and anxiety. 

We think, therefore we are.  But what we think about who we are depends on where we are in our individual evolutionary cycles and on where we are within our cultural evolutionary cycle. 

Karen E. Kelsay © 2005  All rights reserved.

I have a difficult time with the concept of feeling guilty for my tacit acceptance of the privilege of being white, as suggested by Judy Helfand in the San Francisco Chronicle article "Activist Speaks Out About Whiteness, Stereotypes."  In my family's history, my generation is the second "American" generation and the first generation to fully enjoy those advantages.  Previous generations of "white" LaLondes, Javalls, Gehans, Hamiltons, and others had to shed huge amounts of blood, sweat, and tears to give my brother, sister, and me the benefits we now have.

Northern New York State's Algonquin Indians were allied with the French during the French and Indian War.  So, they didn't fare very well here in the United States following that war.  There weren't very many "Indians" who could claim to have been the beneficiaries of noblesse oblige at any time during the history of the United States, or from Spain or Mexico in the Western and Southwestern U.S. 

Generations after the French and Indian War, my great-great grandparents Howard and Hattie Javall moved from their Algonquin reservation in Ontario, Canada, to the area near Watertown, New York.  I have no real connection to them.  I remember seeing a black and white photograph of two very old and wrinkled people in rockers on their front porch.  The only education I ever received about the area's "Indians" was through Rochester's Natural History Museum and elementary schoolbooks in the 1960s (hardly a worthy source for factual information in those days).

I don't know all of the details of my great-great grandparents' lives.  But I was stunned by the contrast between the dismal, hopeless lives of the residents of Grand Avenue (a community of Pomo Indians, written about in the book, Grand Avenue: A Novel in Stories by Greg Sarris) compared with the Javalls' ability to own a house, work, and raise and educate their children in the white world. 

My great-grandmother is the full-blooded Algonquin daughter of Howard and Hattie, and my grandmother is half Algonquin and half Irish.  I was never really aware of my Algonquin heritage.  My grandmother was married to a French Canadian man and raised my mother and uncle in the white world of upstate New York.  My mom had a fine education and even went to boarding school for a time.  Nan and Grampa divorced when I was a baby, and my part-Indian grandmother went on to become a very successful realtor in Rochester. 

I don't know what the difference was between the people of Grand Avenue and my grandmother's people.  She was half white and half Indian, as were many of the children living on Grand Avenue.  I wish I could go to her and ask about her growing up.  Sadly, she died in 1970 and there is no one left to ask.

The other half of my grandmother is Irish.  The Irish were loathed, with employers posting signs stating, "Irish need not apply."  Many Irish immigrants were shanghaied to fight for the Union during the Civil War as they landed in New York Harbor.  They were considered barely more than human and therefore were expendable.  Irish laborers built the Erie Canal, the railroads and finally the paved roads that crisscrossed New York State.  For generations before the famine that brought them to the United States, the Irish were conquered and brutalized by their white English neighbors.  Irish were slaughtered, kidnapped and sold into slavery, just as the Africans were.

My mother's family, composed of these "whites," toiled in the filthy, stinking paper mills of upstate New York.  I am the progeny of hillbillies.  Before moving to Rochester, my grandmother used to yodel on the local radio broadcast.  I have a cousin who is actually nick-named "Junior."  Years ago, when my parents visited them at their tiny, run-down home near Watertown and offered to take them out to dinner, Junior and Hazel delightedly got all dressed up in their Sunday best.  Mom and Dad asked for directions and were told that the restaurant was just down the road.  As they approached the Dairy Queen, they were told to pull in.  This was a high flying night out on the town for these hard working, barely educated, dirt poor white folk. 

My biological father's parents emigrated from Scotland.  These white people also have a long history of being conquered and brutalized by the white English.   They fared better than their Irish cousins here in the United States, however.

The early tribal peoples who dotted the English island had been conquered and colonized by the white Romans, and later by the white Angles and Saxons.  These were the ancestors of the whites who later spread across the planet, raping, pillaging and colonizing every place they went.  These colonizers were a product of hundreds of years of subjugation and slavery, and among them was a lineage of countless generations of unemployed ruthless conquerors.  How could they do anything other than what they'd done?  Malidoma Patrice Some observed that modern Africa's violence stems in part from those who violently overtook it to colonize it.  He says, "I do not know if a person who was raised in terror, then given leadership, can think in gentle terms... ." ("Of Water and the Spirit," 1994, p 12)

The world's rivers are full of the blood of the conquered and colonized.  White against white, white against black, black against black, Asian against Asian, Chinese against Tibetan, Asian against Arab, Indonesian Muslim against Indonesian Hindu, Jew against Muslim, German against Jew, North against South -- the list goes on and on as it has since the first group of upright walkers decided they wanted something that their neighboring group had. 

As we get caught in the swirls and eddies of those bloodied rivers, we struggle to keep from drowning in the cultural chaos that floods the landscape. 

Some's "Of Water and the Spirit" moved me deeply, as did Sarris' "Grand Avenue."  I was particularly taken with the different ways in which the two cultures dealt with the "white invasion."

The residents of Grand Avenue seemed to be stuck in that space between cultures.  They lost their identity as Indians, but didn't have an identity in the white world.  They ridiculed anyone for stepping beyond the pale while hating the very pale in which they lived.  Like the Birifor in Some's book, they honored the old wisdom, but seemed to turn their connection to the natural world into a poisonous, destructive force that ultimately forced them deeper and deeper into their own desolation. 

The Birifor understood that, regardless of how they felt about being colonized, the world was changing and their survival required understanding and adapting to the new ways.  Some's destiny was to be the bridge that connected both sides of the cultural river.  His education among the whites at first was a threat to his people.  Eventually, it was understood that he could blend that knowledge with the old knowledge and benefit both cultures.  His elders knew that to survive alongside the white world, they needed to keep the knowledge of and connection to their ancestors.  I was left with a sense of hopefulness that the wisdom of the ancestors could be honored and celebrated by those of other cultures. 

In sharp contrast, Sun Elk's white education created an inseparable rift between him and his people.  His assimilation back into his culture only occurred after the pueblo was irreversibly changed by the white government and his father gave him a piece of land.  Marriage to an Indian girl made him Indian again, according to his people.  Even so, he still remained an outsider, with his house just outside the pueblo.

As people like Some lecture and teach around the world, their stories and magic capture the imagination of the "sick whites."   People in our Western world can't seem to get enough of the ancient wisdom.  Many people are turning toward non-Western ritual and esoteric knowledge to regain some of that which our white ancestors shed as they focused on material gain.  We recognize the emptiness and the sickness in our souls.  I am grateful for people like Some, who are showing us the way back - not just to an African way of being - but to a way of being that is more integrated and respectful within our own selves.

Danzy Senna's observation that "hybridity is in" (Senna, 18) caught my attention.   The last U.S. census had quite a lengthy list of racial groups and subgroups by which members of the populace could identify themselves.  We are no longer simply Americans, we are hyphenated Americans.  Instead of living in a melting pot, we are part of a cultural stew wherein we each keep our unique identities while adding flavor to the broth in which we all swim.   There seems to be a yearning for some kind of group identification along with the desire for unique individual expression within that sameness.  Senna seems to deride "multiculturalism" while marveling that she is suddenly popular because of that very quality. 

As I read the various horrors of colonialism and of the despair of the conquered, I began to feel a twinge of guilt at being white.  And that caused me to think about my own mixed heritage.  Today, I am a white woman, living in a white world, enjoying the benefits of being white.  But my family didn't enjoy those benefits until the most recent generations.

Even so, there have been times when being "white" has actually been a disadvantage.  In the mid-1980s when I was beginning my broadcast career I wanted to move from radio news anchor to television (I was a LOT thinner back then).  Despite my talent and ability, television news rooms were struggling to meet minority hiring requirements.  Being a woman in a man's business wasn't minority enough.  I also had to be Black, Asian, Hispanic, or Native American.  I was particularly irked when I saw a lily white woman anchoring - a woman whose only biological link to her Hispanic surname was through her multi-ethnic husband.  She didn't even have to be anywhere close to 1/32 of anything, as long as her name sounded as if she was Hispanic.  I was at least 1/32 Algonquin Indian, but never flouted my Native American ancestry.

Another example of "reverse discrimination" relates to my son, who was denied entrance into the University of California system during its era of minority preferences.  He was seeking entrance into an impacted program and was told that the few spots that were available were being held for minority students.  This young man was classified as "gifted," having been able to read and write since he was three.  An A-plus Honors student who did everything right in high school couldn't get a spot in college because he was white.  He did finally find a berth at Cal Poly Pomona, had a great experience and did well. 

My daughter was a head cashier for Home Depot in the city of North Las Vegas, having recently transferred from San Diego.  This is her first experience with being treated differently because she is white.  Her supervisor is of a different race.  The white girls receive the least desirable shifts and are assigned to do the dirtiest, most difficult jobs. My daughter is a young woman who was raised to respect others and to treat everyone equally.  She's having a difficult time understanding why she's being treated badly simply because of her color. 

It seems that the river has come back to its source.

Karen E. Kelsay © 2005  All rights reserved.

At this very moment, I'd like to know what I want to do with the rest of my life.

The company for which I work announced Monday that it's sutting down.  1900 employees across the country are affected.  Yesterday was our last day in the office.  Today, we go to the "career development center" to obtain our passcodes, information about services available to us, etc.

It's been weird.  This is my third career, each derailed by "market forces."   In the last several  cases, I obtained a replacement job prior to "lights out."  I wasn't present when they flipped the switch.  In this case, however, due to the short notice, I've been in the office all week.  It's been eerie. 

For the last 11 years, I've been in the mortgage industry.  I was a public relations professional for 18 years prior to that, and a broadcast journalist before that.  As a PR professional, I worked in the utility industry, health care and in the non-profit world.  Three different industries in the same career field -- all affected by economic downturns, shut downs, layoffs, mergers, etc. 

Three separate job changes within one career field.  Unfortunately, at the time of the last layoff, there simply were no PR jobs available because many business closed or left the state.   I was considered to be one of the best, but there were no jobs to be had.  I wouldn't leave San Diego because my kids were very young.  Tto leave would have meant either leaving them behind with their father, or taking them from him.  Neither option was good for the kids.  So, I needed a new career.

My sister was a mortgage underwriter at the time.  She needed an assistant and I needed a job.  She said, "You need a job and I need an assistant.  Any idiot can do this.  You're an idiot, so come work with me."  I went from a well-paying, prestigious job in a Fortune 500 corporation to making $8 per hour assisting my sister.  I did it kicking and screaming.  I vowed it would be temporary.  That was 11 years ago. 

During the last 11 years, I did what I do best -- I adapted and grew.  I finally adopted my new career field and learned everything I could.  I accepted growth opportunities when they came to me.  I'm one of the best.

Ya know what's funny?  The reason I moved from Southern Calif. to the Bay area was because I did due diligence reviews on behalf of the investors who were buying loans from Headlands Mortgage in Marin County.  I fell in love with the place and vowed to move to the area.  Exactly two years later, I was here and have been here for 6 years now.

Headlands was bought by GreenPoint.  I was there as a due diligence underwriter the day it happened.   That was several years ago, and the company grew and prospered.

I was hired by GreenPoint a year ago.   I was thrilled to be part of the team.  It's an ethical company, with good people who care about each other and who care about the business and its customers.  It was one of the most profitable and strongest companies in the industry.  Also one of the most highly respected.  Its ethics and people were in alignment with my beliefs about right thought, right speech, right action, right relationship and right livelihood.  It's the best place I've worked in a very long time.

Capital One's purchase of North Fork Bank, GreenPoint's parent company, occured at the end of last year.  Exactly one year after I started working at GreenPoint, Cap One shut GreenPoint down.   It's come full circle for me here.

Naturally, the state of the mortgage industry is such that there are no replacement jobs.  I'll blog about that another day -- the current state of affairs is not entirely the fault of the industry.  We are all culpable. 

Today,  I got to sleep in a bit.  The career development people won't be on site until 11 a.m.  They're leaving at 4 p.m.  Five hours to handle the needs of several hundred people?  I'll be one of them, and I'm gearing myself to stand in line surrounded by angry, sad, stunned, angst- and anxiety-ridden people.  Most of the people I'll be with have been with the company since it began, nearly 20 years ago.  They built it from the ground up and weathered many storms together.  While accepted with open arms, I'm still a relative outsider.  I almost feel as if I don't have a right to be standing in line with them. 

Many couples work there.  Most of them met there.  Entire families are going to be devastated.  Many of our co-workers are from India.  Some have been working with H-1 visas for many years at GreenPoint.  Their children go to school here.  They have friends and relationships.  Without a company to hold their H-1s, they have a week to pack up and move back to India.  Some are couples with different end dates and face moving back separately.  The CIO has been great, helping as many as he can.

I spoke with one of my favorite IT people the other day.  He came up to my cubbie and wrapped his arms around me to say goodbye.  I was one of his favorite non-IT people.   I asked him how he and his wife are faring.  They both work  -- uh, worked -- at GreenPoint. They've been here for several years.  He's from India and his wife is from Russia.  They're lucky -- they have time.  They're being kept on for 30 days during the shut-down.  Then, they both have to leave.  They have to choose a country. 

He told me that to stay, they'd need to find a company to hold their H-1s.  They'd prefer a first tier company so they can keep their income.  They could go with a large contracting firm.   But, doing so would require them to give up 60 percent of their income.  The contracting firm holds the H-1 and then subcontracts them to another company, which could further subcontract them, etc.  Each layer in the system takes a chunk out of their pay.  They wouldn't have a choice.  Human trafficking, refined and legal. 

GreenPoint was a first tier employer for them, but only after several years of being contracted to the company.  It's only in recent years that these two were able to keep all of their earnings.

He had tears in his eyes.  He said that Americans get upset with foreign workers because they're willing to work here for less than their American counterparts.  "I'm NOT willing to work for less.  I'm forced to work for less.  It's the way the system works.  If we want to live and work in the U.S., those are the terms.  They have the power.  We accept it, or we don't get to work here."

One of my co-workers returned from a six-month maternity leave last week.  Another just moved into a house with his wife and kids after renting, scrimping and saving for the last 11 years.  They finally have their dream home.  And they could lose everything they've worked to build for more than a decade.

I guess I'm lucky.  I'm single and rent.  I was already rebuilding after divorce and bankruptcy two years ago and being laid off a year ago before landing this job at GreenPoint.  I don't have much to lose.  I'm light on my feet.  I have a lot of transferrable skills.  I'm personable and likeable.  I'm flexible and adaptable.  There are plenty of jobs in my area, although I'm overqualified.  Many don't pay what I'm accustomed to earning.  There are jobs that do pay well and are more interesting but the commute is killer.  I could accept the commute or move.  But I love where I live, and I have established friendships and relationships -- community -- where I am.  I could adapt again.  But I don't want to.

I'm going to avail myself of the $5,000 retraining allowance.  At nearly 50 years old, I'm not sure yet what I'm going to do with it.   I could finish my degree.  That takes time.  I'll need to work at the same time.  I'm used to hard work.

I love to write and did it professionally for 18 years. It's my passion.  But the requirements have changed, and I don't have a Master's degree.  Nor do I really want to get back into the grind of corporate PR. 

I also am a very gifted healer and a capable spiritual teacher.  Not sure where to go with that, though.

So -- what do I want right now?  I really don't know.

I know what I have: 
Peace in the midst of uncertainty. 
Faith in a Universe that I know provides for my every need at just the right time.
About three months of "breathing room" financially.  That's a lot of time.
People who love and support me, and who I love and support.
A full refrigerator.
An unexpected insurance reimbursement check that I can use to fill my gas tank until the first Warren Act check arrives.
A sense of self.
A sense of the Presence.

What more could I want?

Karen E. Kelsay © 2007  All rights reserved.

My favorite day of the year doesn' t have an actual date.  It's the day when summer gracefully and fully allows autumn to don its spendiferous clothes. 

I know - the Autumn Equinox marks the "official" first day of Fall.  But I live in Northern California.  Here, Sept. 21 can be hot and sunny, without autumn's earthy fragrances, cool crispness and glowing colors.  Change of season isn't held captive by date or time.  It occurs in its own sweet time.  And to me, Autumn is a sweet time. 

I was an autumn baby (Oct. 26), so perhaps that accounts for my fondness for this time of year.  I loved those little red frosting roses on my annual birthday cake from Jackson's Bakery.  Autumn = yummy little red frosting roses.  It's a pleasant association.   Autmn was created just for me.  I like to think I'm a bit less egocentric than that.  But then, that thought would be egocentric, too.  Can't escape it, no matter how hard I try.  Maybe I should simply allow myself to be egocentric and accept that the universe made this fabulous gift just for me.  I'm being nice by sharing it with others.

I grew up in Upstate New York.  No -- it's not that place at the topmost point on the eastern side of the state.  It's closer to Lake Ontario.  We Upstaters are very tender about that.  It's like saying someone from the Bronx lives in New York City.  She/he isfrom The Bronx, thank you very mcuh.  We from Upstate are from the ONLY Upstate there is.  Forget about the apparent logic of a map.  And yes, we capitalize the word "Upstate."  It's not a description or a general location.  It's an actual place.  Just as the Emerald City is an actual place in the Land of Oz.

So -- where was I?   Oh, yes.  Fond memories of the Fall season.

I'm really not certain about why this time of year is so appealing to me.  It just is.  Perhaps it's because I'm an introverted intuitive.  I like the cozy feeling that comes from moving from the outdoors to the indoors.  I love the outdoors and spend a great deal of time in it when the weather is suitable.  Yes -- I'm a fair weather outdoor enthusiast.  Don't much like being in the cold and wet.  There is a nurturance that comes from moving inward.  A place to reside quietly and peacefully while nature has its way with the living world outside my living room.

The colors!  Oh -- the colors.  I love the oranges, yellows, reds, purples and browns that splash across the landscape.  Here in wine country, the vineyards that carpet the hills and valleys of the region turn into a riotous display of color.  My beloved and I hiked to the top of a hill in northern Sonoma County last November.  We gazed out over countless miles of color.  It was breathtaking.  I felt waves of gratitude for the gift the universe once again created just for me.  I didn't mind sharing it with others... ;- )  .  

It's just magical.  One day last year I was driving one of our many country back roads.  As I crested the hill, I beheld the most magnificent sight.  It was late afternoon and the sky had turned a sulky gray.  The hills reflected that grayness, as well as the vineyards that lined the valley.  A ray of sunlight broke through the gloom, illuminating one section of yellowed grape leaves.  There was a very slight breeze at the time, causing the foliage to ripple slightly.  There, in the midst of that sea of gray, was an amazing display of shimmery, golden leaves.  I was wonderstruck (hey, I'm a writer.  I can make up words if I want to).

Another thing I love about the coming season is the smell of fermenting grapes that perfumes the air in Sonoma and Napa counties.  Immediately after the grape harvest wineries begin their alchemy, transforming the fruits of summer into luscious nectars.  The fragrance alone is intoxicating!

As a child growing up "back East," I loved the way the air smelled different as the fallen leaves started to dry out.  A warm, earthy fragrance pervaded.   The neighborhood dads would dutifully, if not grumpily, rake their yards when the leaves became unruly.  Invariably, we kids destroyed their hard work by running and plopping ourselves into the carefully constructed piles (and then rebuillt them under our fathers' glaring eyes).  

Once upon a time, we were allowed to burn the leaves that were raked up each season. Soon after the fallen leaves were gathered, the air was scented with the sharp tang of smoke.  Air quality became a concern by my teen years and that Autumn ritual of gathering, playing and burning was outlawed.  It seems like more of a chore when stuffing black plastic bags with nature's debris.  Plump Hefty trash bags just don't have the same nostalgic effect as seeing rusty 50-gallon oil drums lining the street with smoke wisping up into the air.  There was a sense of community in it.  Now, heavy and awkward black plastic bags are hauled to the curb on trash day.  A solitary, laborious affair. 

I love the rituals of fall, as well.  Hallowe'en and Thanksgiving are just delightful to me.  The excitement and anticipation of gathering within family and community to celebrate the old pagan rites at Hallowe'en and then to neurose over the historically newer rite of Thanksgiving.  As kids, our family would make the annual trek to Kelly's Apple Farm, which was in the middle of nowhere at the time.  I wonder what it's like today.  Probably over developed and full of glitzy ersatz Fall foo-foo to entice tourists and folks who no longer remember the real adventure of the season.  Back in the day, it was just a big farm with a large, rectangular building that housed a cider press and doughnut bakery.  There is absolutely nothing like ice-cold fresh cider with warm, cinnamon-sugar coated cake doughnuts freshly pulled out of their cooking vats. 

Once our tummies and tastebuds were satisfied, we ventured out to the pumpkin field, where a HUGE (or so it seemed to us) cornstalk tipi beckoned, promising adventure.  After some frisky cowboy and Indian games, it was time to choose our "punkins."  It was like searching for your soul-mate.  It had to be a perfect match.  Any old punkin wouldn't do.  It had to be THE punkin.  People were polite back then, too.  No pushing or competitive punkin hunting, no snatching, no cell phones interrupting the family time, no pushing, no glares and growls from others who have decided that YOUR punkin is their punkin.  If you claimed it, it was yours.  That simple.  No grabbing.  Simply choosing and caressing, taking the king of squash home to be gutted and carved in a fit sacrifice to the queen of Fall evenings. 

Sigh.  I'm looking at the clock now, and it's time for me to move on to my next task.  Punkin hunting won't be one of the delights awaiting me today.  But, I eagerly anticipate my favorite day.  Whenever it chooses to appear.

Karen E. Kelsay © 2007  All rights reserved.

 

Poet LAWRENCE FERLINGHETTI, reading his own recent work on the Sept. 3 edition of "Democracy Now" with Amy Goodman:

Pity the nation whose people are sheep,
and whose shepherds mislead them.
Pity the nation whose leaders are liars, whose sages are silenced,
and whose bigots haunt the airwaves.
Pity the nation that raises not its voice,
except to praise conquerors and acclaim the bully as hero
and aims to rule the world with force and by torture.
Pity the nation that knows no other language but its own
and no other culture but its own.
Pity the nation whose breath is money
and sleeps the sleep of the too well fed.
Pity the nation -- oh, pity the people who allow their rights to erode
and their freedoms to be washed away.
My country, tears of thee, sweet land of liberty.

Also read on that same program, from his book, Poetry as Insurgent Art:

I am signaling you through the flames. The North Pole is not where it used to be. Manifest Destiny is no longer manifest. Civilization self-destructs. The goddess Nemesis is knocking at the door...

What are poets for in such an age? What is the use of poetry? If you would be a poet, create works capable of answering the challenge of Apocalyptic times, even if this means sounding apocalyptic. You have to decide if bird cries are cries of ecstasy or cries of despair, by which you will know if you are a tragic or a lyric poet. Conceive of love beyond sex. Be subversive, constantly questioning reality and the status quo. Strive to change the world in such a way that there's no further need to be a dissident. Read between the lives, and write between the lines. Be committed to something outside yourself. Be passionate about it. But don't destroy the world, unless you have something better to replace it.

If you would snatch fame from the flames, where is your burning bow, where are your arrows of desire, where your wit on fire?

The master class starts wars. The lower classes fight it. Governments lie. The voice of the government is often not the voice of the people.

Speak up, act out! Silence is complicity. Be the gadfly of the state and also its firefly. And if you have two loaves of bread, do as the Greeks did: sell one with the coin of the realm, and with the coin of the realm buy sunflowers.

Wake up! The world's on fire!

Have a nice day!

Dear Lawrence: This is exactly what poets are for.  Thank you for saying what I don't know how to articulate

"You have to begin to lose your memory, if only in bits and pieces, to realize that memory is what makes our lives."  -- Luis Buñuel

 

Who would you be if you weren't who you think you are?  Could you even be someone different?

As one who has an interest in spiritual psychology and human development, I recognize that our perceptions are colored early in life and as a result we tend to edit out any experience that doesn't fit those perceptions.   In essence, we build lives based on who we think we are.  This idea is supported in David Darling's Zen Physics. He states, "Almost everything you do and think is based on what your brain remembers has happened to it in the past.  And everything you do and think in the future will serve to reinforce the patterns of behavior and response associated with the particular person that you, and others, think of yourself as being." (Darling, 38)

We all have different ideas of who we are based on our upbringing.  Our experiences and the way we view the world results from whom we are taught we should be.  In the larger view, we go along believing that as long as we do or say this or that, we fit in and all will be right with our world.  We will survive. 

There are times when we try to assert a different point of view, such as when we're teenagers striving to become independent of our parents.  Some might question a bit, but continue to conform to fit in and be accepted by the group in the way Langston Hughes did by standing up in his church.  We don't want to be uncomfortable.  But in gaining acceptance among the group, a little bit of us weeps inside, knowing that we are not being true to ourselves. 

But, what about those whose culture, religion, and politics simply will not allow them to redefine themselves?  In some cases, people get locked into particular views and think they can't break out, as in the case of a gang member named "Racketeer."  He had to conform or die, ironically accepting that he will die anyway because of his conformity. 

In the essays, "Chairman Mao's Good Little Boy" and "So Tsi-fai," (from Ourselves Among Others: Cross-Cultural Readings for Writers second edition, edited by Carol J. Verburg) the writers did express a longing to overcome circumstances and become something different.  Liang Heng wanted to fit in to the very society that condemned his mother, but wasn't allowed to because of his mother's history - even though the charges against her were, by our standards, absurd.  As a result, he was forced to accept an identity he didn't want.   So Tsi-fai couldn't overcome his family's poverty and lack of education and was misunderstood.  Ultimately, he chose death rather than to continue being less than what he could have been if given tools for finding his real gifts.

Is self identity something that only the educated and wealthy are given the luxury to define and then can only do so within a "free" society? 

For those of us who are fortunate enough to fit into that circumstance, we tend to go along with our "ideas of origin" up to a certain point.  Eventually though, we discover that life isn't sunshine and roses.  We begin to re-assess our lives and our place in the world.  We simply want to survive, be accepted, to be creative, and to be happy.  When the road to happiness leads to a dead end, we look for another map. 

Yet, regardless of our circumstance, a struggle for a different kind of identity seems to be something most of us do from time to time throughout our lives.  Scholars suggest that the search for self transcends culture, economic status, religion, geography, and family.  A thread of rebelliousness seems to wind through every culture, testifying to the struggle of finding our own way through the ideas of identity pressed upon us by our parents, teachers, peers, culture, religion, or politics.  Is it that the grass is always greener in another psyche? 

At first, we're hesitant to publicly question who we really are.  To do so is difficult to reconcile with those closest to us - our parents, in particular.  Their view of our world is considerably different from our own.  Or, maybe we're just crazy and the world really is as those around us say it is.  We certainly don't want to be perceived as crazy.  But that actually might be easier than being perceived as different or rebellious.

I've experienced that, myself.  My mom and I have considerably different views of my stepdad.  To me, he was aloof, distant, and often critical.  Mom insists that he loved me and showed that love in many ways.  I simply don't remember them.  Was my experience of dad so different from mom's?  Did I miss something?  Am I crazy?  I can see that talking about my memories upsets mom, so I simply don't talk about it.  In a way, I feel that this isn't being true to my self because these experiences were real to me. 

By not acknowledging them, am I rejecting part of who I think I am?  Am I rejecting some part of my stepdad?  Would my life be different somehow if I simply accepted that dad did love me and I only misperceived his words and behavior as something else?  I would have to redefine myself if I truly did have a loving and harmonious home life while growing up.  Yet, my sister and brother corroborate the experiences.   Do I accept my mother's seemingly faulty or selective memory as something unique to her and the way she chooses to see her life?  Can I transcend all of the seeming pain - whether real or imagined - and choose to be someone else, anyway?

There are things I do to conform and fit in, even though I know that in so doing, I am rejecting or subjugating a part of my true self.  There are times when I am locked in to a way of being and from which I seem to have no escape.  And, there are ideas that I completely reject, for to do so would mean a psychological death that would be far too horrific to bear. 

Our sense of self comes as much from that which we reject as it comes from that which we accept about the events of our pasts. 

Who am I, anyway?  Does it really matter?  Ultimately, aren't we all different aspects of the same person?

I was raised with a certain sense of who my mom and dad wanted me to be.  In recent years, I've struggled to find the real me under all of those layers.  I was never happy being what I was told I was supposed to be, although on the outside I sure did it well.  Being successful outwardly is not necessarily tantamount to being happy.

I moved away to find myself.  I went so far as to completely disassociate from my family, first joining the Air Force and then moving three-thousand miles away (they later followed me to San Diego!).  Ultimately, I joined a religious cult and lived in a communal setting just to open myself to other possibilities of "being."  My family thought I was some kind of nut and felt that I rejected everything they stood for.  I guess that's true.  A therapist friend says one has to be deranged in order to become re-arranged.

Now I have come full circle, however.  Through the study of Eastern Mysticism and a whole heck of a lot of counseling and Zoloft, I have come to terms with those parts that "don't work for me" and have learned to graciously accept that my family members and I don't see things the same way.  I wouldn't go so far as to say we have a harmonious and happy relationship, but we have come to a tacit acceptance, living in a kind of truce and we are civil and polite.  I'd rather be the nut and happy.

David Darling writes, "We must be able to see how we are now in terms of who we have been at different, successive stages along our journey from early childhood.  We must hold the script to the inner drama that is ourselves, to know our own narrative.  For if we cannot do this, we are without an identity or self." 

How much of that inner narrative is created by others?  How much is truly our own narrative?  Whose identity do we adopt?  I believe that we're not locked in to whatever narrative we create for ourselves.  I believe identity is fluid.  Self is not static.

According to my mother, my biological father was brutal.  He beat my mother while she was carrying me in an effort to try to force a miscarriage.  After I was born, he wouldn't allow her to feed or clothe me and often stripped my crib of bedding in the middle of winter (I was born in late October).  It turns out that he was bi-sexual - something that certainly wasn't discussed in the late 1950s.  The Catholic Church didn't believe my mother's story and wouldn't allow an annulment or a divorce.  Finally, mom accepted excommunication and left him after the birth of my brother when I was two.  Mom bitterly recounts the days when we lived on welfare and life was hard.  Eventually, she remarried.  

I seem to have edited that portion of my life out of my memory.  I do not remember my biological father at all.  Nor did I remember him in my mid-teens, when my mother told me about my early years.  I was deeply affected by the story. 

These days, knowing that memory is faulty and our histories are somewhat fluid as a result, I'm not sure how much of it is truth and how much of it is expanded on.  My uncle knew my biological father and upon my inquiry told me he was "a prince of a man - salt of the earth."  But initially, I accepted everything she told me about him.  I have since corroborated the bi-sexual part of my biological father and I know where he lives.  But I have not contacted him.  It's almost as if I'm afraid that there might be some truth to what my mother told me.

Most of my childhood and teen years were tumultuous.  I learned very early that survival in my household meant to become a chameleon, taking on my mother's own attitudes of anger, betrayal, sense of victimization and powerlessness.  Drama was the order of the day.  I believed that was normal behavior and took it with me into adulthood.  In essence, I lived from the perspective of a memory I don't have but which shaped most of my life. 

It's taken years, but I have worked hard to separate my mother's story from my own. 

I have shed those old ideas and behaviors.  I reject drama and strive for a peaceful and calm life.  I have re-created myself and am much happier for it.  Did I simply un-create something that wasn't real to begin with?  Interestingly, as I have changed, mom has changed, too. 

These days, mom will occasionally reference something fondly, saying, "Remember how we used to go do [this], and how much fun we had?"   However, I usually don't have any recollection of the event she's described.  It's as if she and I were on different planets.  I wonder sometimes whether, to protect her own sanity, she created an alternate life that is much easier to visit.  This perception of her parallel universe seems to have softened her approach to life considerably.  She's not insane. She's very capable and seems to be very present in her current circumstance.  Her words and actions today seem to come from a happier place.  There is less drama in her life, and she seems healthier and more "whole" somehow. 

It has left me wondering which of us truly was - or is - crazy.  I've tried to sort it out, thinking that to do so would somehow answer all of my questions about who I am and why I am as I am.

I have reached a point in my life wherein I'm not sure what was "real" about my past and what was created out of who knows what.  I've also reached a point at which I feel that the past doesn't matter.  I strive to live in the here and now.  I'm not sure if it's healthy or appropriate to reject those parts of my memory - if indeed that is what it is - that don't suit me.  But, since reality seems to be transient, I think it really doesn't matter what parts of my real or imagined past I bring forward with me.  "Cogito, ergo sum."

Karen E. Kelsay © 2005  All rights reserved.

One of the reasons I've become a spiritual community dropout over the last year is that I have been unable to find something that isn't like everything else once one strips off the outer forms (even I-I gets dogmatic). 

As I contemplate my edges and respond to my desire to keep moving them out, I read the material others present about their journeys.  I'm not an expert, although at this point I'm convinced that no-one else is, either.  We're all just keying in on an aspect of creation, god, the universe, light, whatever, and are riding that unique wave to see where it takes us.  It's pretty cool, we experience changes, and we desire to share that with others.  That's fine.  But each wave is different, and none is THE wave.  Still, by observing the waves that others are surfing, I enlarge my worldview and open to catch the wave that I'm uniquely designed to ride.  Right now, I'm riding the wave of challenge.

I wonder sometimes whether "enlightenment" is a myth.  It's a pretty goal, but since God/Goddess/All That Is is infinite and the infinite is ever expanding, enlightenment ain't the end of the road.  Goals should be irrelevant in a spiritual context.  Spirituality unfolds as it will in one's life.  I don't believe it can be forced, although with openness it can expand.  I also think anyone who says he/she is enlightened, an ascended master, or an avatar, etc., probably isn't.  Especially if it's being advertised.  The very few people who attain those levels do so rather quietly.  And based on the materials I've read, their elevation is a result of their own personal devotion to their ideal of God.  Once annointed, they simply carry on their lives, doing extraordinary things in the name of that God but without personal fanfare.  Truth is complete, whole and perfect.  It speaks for itself.  It doesn't need a marketing director.

I observe that a lot of people who perceive themselves as being on a spiritual path are simply looking for personal transformation -- anything to rid themselves of the pain of the current situation or any philosophy, thought, or system that will take them out of their current neurosis.  Spiritual practice can be transformational, but so can cognitive therapy.   If one believes that eating lime Jello six times a day will help one to reach enlightenment (another term people misunderstand and overuse), then it will be so for that person.

I'm curious about the definition of "sprituality."   We self-identified spiritual folks bandy about that term a lot.  Do we really know what it means?  Who defines it?  What are the rules that govern "spiritual" behavior or environments?  We accept or reject something depending on whether it corresponds with our own self-described experience of "spirit."  Since "spirit" exists in everything, there really isn't anything that is "unspiritual."   It seems to me that the "spirituality" of something is in the eyes of the beholder, from her/his own consciousness. 

One example comes from my own experience as a member of a Sufi group and healing school (more like a personality cult, and once I realized that I left the group).  I was invited to be the organization's marketing person.  I gladly accepted, delighted to be able to use my talents toward a "spiritual" endeavor.  It was a debacle -- a story I'd prefer not to go into at this time.  However, one event stands out in my memory.

The "inner circle" felt that the rest of us weren't "in the Unity."  Their stated purpose was to teach us how to attain that lofty level.  Interestingly, it created competition, separation, isolation, angst, anxiety, depression and kept us paying for more and more "teaching" so that we could learn an strive to transcend the seven levels of consciousness as defined by the shaykh who started the movement.  I later mused that if the teachings were valid, the "inner circle" would have expanded.  It never did.

Even though my expertise in marketing and PR were recognized and desired, I was told that I wasn't "in the Unity" and therefore, I wasn't allowed to write any of the copy myself.  Only a couple of members of the inner group were allowed to write.  On one occasion, I prepared one of leader's older articles to include in some promotional material.  I gave the piece to the office administrator to approve.  I'm not sure why, but he thought I wrote it.  He read it, called me into his office, and told me that the piece was lacking in light.  He kindly told me that, once I learned more and walked more deeply, he was sure that eventually my writing would hold higher levels of light.  I quietly told him that HIS boss wrote the article.  I only pasted into the promotional material.  He was dumbfounded.  He read the article from what he perceived to be MY lack.   It colored his view of the material.  He never apologized to me for his misjudgment.

Some folk who perceive themselves as spiritual can be elite separatists in the name of spirituality. 

It's all spirit.  It's just what we do with it that matters.

God is in everything.  It is the source and the substance.  Since the All That Is is all that is, then everything is spritual.  Spirit is energy.  Kriya yoga teaches that creation is a manifestation of light, sound and vibration, all of which are energy.  All vibrations exist within the container that is Spirit.  That includes icky, ugly, black, evil energy as well as bright, shiny, loving energy.  There are no opposites in energy/Spirit.  There are only matters of degree.  Light is not better than dark, nor is it an absence of darkness.  It's just less dark than black.  Dark is not worse than light, nor is it an absence of light.  It's just less light than white.  Each still has to contain some of the characteristics of the other because there is no real duality. 

All spectra are present in every part of the Divine hologram.  Each vibration has all of the qualities that correspond with it.  One has to focus on beauty to see beauty.  One has to focus on ugliness to see ugliness.  That doesn't mean that we don't acknowledge and challenge the wrong use of energy.  But I do think that we need to see the seeming opposites as part of the whole.  We can't heal what we can't separate from.  If we are judging something as good or bad, we are not separating from it.  We're engaging with it from our own limited perspective.  We can't create peace from a place of war -- even if that "war" is our outrage against injustice.  We can have passion and courage and stand up against the injustice, but we cannot become part of the battle.

Energy is only energy.  It has no thought or form of its own.  There are those who use it appropriately to heal, educate, house and nurture.   Its wrong use is the thing that wreaks havoc - not the energy itself.

We consciously and unconsciously direct thought forms and energy responds to it - the way a ball flies in the direction in which it is thrown.  If you throw it to first base, it's going to go in the direction of first base and the first baseman is going to do with it what firstbasemen do.  If on his return throw the ball accidentally flies into the stands, it could hit someone in the head and do harm.  Was the baseman's intent to cause harm?  He was using the ball the way it was intended to be used in the appropriate context.  But the wind, sun, a cramp in his throwing arm or something else may have caused the ball to go off in a different direction.  That doesn't mean the ball is inherently harmful, nor is the firstbaseman evil.  That same ball could be thrown deliberately at someone's head.  The ball isn't to blame, but the person who threw the ball is the culprit.  The final result  depends on the consciousness of the person who has the ball (or energy).

Which brings me to another question.  What is consciousness and why do so-called spiritual people automatically align it with their own higher ideals?  The American Heritage Dictionary defines consciousness as, "The faculty of recognizing the distinction between right and wrong in regard to one's own conduct.  Conformity to one's own sense of right conduct.  Inner thought."  That doesn't say that "consciousness" is a higher or lower ideal.  It is one's own ideal.  Hitler acted consciously.  So did Gandhi.  We need to be careful with spiritual groupthink and groupspeak.  

There, but for the grace of God, go we.

Karen E. Kelsay © 2007  All rights reserved.

During a recent set of readings about Voice and Narrative, I remembered a book I read many years ago.  The book describes the way we use language to discover, define and reveal our selves.  

Anthem, a novelette by Ayn Rand, is a narrative that depicted a world in which the concept of the individual was outlawed.  The word "I" didn't exist; the individual thought of himself or herself only as part of the collective.  The protagonist and a friend escaped the collective, venturing into a forest where they found an ancient, abandoned house.  In the house was a library filled with books from a previous era.  The main character had difficulty understanding the words on the pages - he had never before seen the words "I" and "mine."  Without the language, he didn't have the concept of himself as an individual.  He gained an awareness of self only after he gleaned an understanding of the language of self.

Taking that concept a bit further, that same language is then used to deconstruct our idea of self as we're reconstructed in translation by those around us.

In the introduction to The Truth About the Truth, editor Walter Truett wrote that the "truth is made rather than found."   Truett expounds on this thought, writing that "The cosmos may be found; but the ideas we form about it, and the things we say about it are made,"  "...language is deeply involved in the social construction of reality," and "...ideas cannot be understood apart from the language systems that produced them."  In an additional quote attributed to Richard Rorty, Truett adds, "...where there are no sentences there is no truth, that sentences are elements of human languages, and that human languages are human creations."  

We need language to symbolize and synthesize our experiences.  It's how we tell ourselves and others who we think we are.  It's almost as if, in the telling of our stories, we create the substance of our selves.  We embellish the story with meanings and interpretations and so we are constantly re-creating our selves with each new version of the story.

In Foe, a novel by J. M. Coetzee, the character Susan Barton explores this, saying "The storyteller...must divine which episodes of his history hold promise of fullness, and tease from them their hidden meanings, braiding these together as one braids a rope." 

But, after reading The Death of the Author, an essay by Roland Barthes, I began to ponder that invisible line between the narrator and the listener.  Barthes suggests that the author disappears in the reader's mind, blurring the distinction between story, storyteller, and interpreter.  The reader interacts with the story on a personal level, making that story part of the reader's own experience.  And so I wondered, are we really who we think we are?  We are experienced by others as who they think we are.        

When we tell our narrative, the listener perceives our story's meaning based on his/her own unique understanding of the language we use. Hence, we become the creation of the listener and who we think we are disappears in that person's mind.  The distinction between us and they blurs because our story interacts with the listener's story and we become part of that other's inner narrative.    

Over the course of my reading, I sought some clue to tie it all together.  At first, I was struck with the idea of voice - how we tell our stories and how we are perceived through that telling. The interpretation is where the story gains its meaning, not in the telling.  The same set of circumstances can have a different meaning depending on the storyteller.  
    

I am reminded of something that occurred a few years ago:  I was a member of the board of a non-profit organization.  It's something I've done many times, and I've also had the experience of being a support person to a corporate board.  This experience taught me the moral, ethical, legal, and professional responsibilities of being a board member and how to conduct the organization's business appropriately.  In this instance, the executive director was also the board chair.  She began to hold secret meetings, including some board members and excluding others for reasons I won't go into here.  I spoke up about this.  To the board members who had been excluded I was a hero, exhibiting the characteristics of integrity and courage.  To the executive director and the other board members, I was the world's worst catastrophe and not to be trusted. 

Which was I?  Hero or rogue?  Those to whom I told my story about the situation had a much different perception of me than those who heard that executive director's story about me.  To me, I'm honest, sincere and trustworthy.  To another person, I'm wicked and difficult. 

So, this suggests to me that "I" am not perceived by my telling of my story, but in the listener's interpretation of my story.  Does that then negate my existence as a unique individual, since the interpreter is going to relate to me through his/her own perception thereby re-creating me into his/her own image of me?

Coetzee's Susan Barton character tried so hard to stick to her story and to present it as she lived it (or how she perceived herself to have lived it), yet Foe kept trying to tease from her story some kind of nuance and meaning - his own ideas of what made her story interesting and important.  We do that when we listen to another person's story and we make it part of our own story through our interaction with it.

Without language, we have no way to give our stories a framework, and thereby find some way to internalize and interpret the events of our lives.  As we tell our stories, we keep the basic premise, but through faulty memory or re-evaluation and re-creation of our selves we tell a different version each time. 

It causes me to ask the question, "Can there be two truths?"

We live in a world of infinite possibility.  As our idea of "truth" changes, we have to find a way to relate our selves to that new truth.  It's not that there is more than one truth, but rather, it is an evolving truth. 

I pondered whether, having shaped our lives around a specific truth, are we still true to ourselves if that view changes? 

I think that's why so many people are unhappy in our culture.  We're taught to believe that certain things are acceptable.  As long as we go along with that view, we're part of the crew and receive the reward of safe passage in troubled waters.  If our truth is contrary to the accepted norm, we find ourselves on a deserted island, lost and alone because we have mutinied and are no longer carried in the ship of collective thought. 

In spite of our mutinous ways, we still have to take our own place next to our neighbor.  Therefore, we are required to find a balance -- a place where more than one idea of truth can coexist, even if it is an uneasy relationship.  In so doing, after being cast adrift in a sea of uncertainty, we find our selves on solid ground again and accept that our own truth and the truth of others are equally valid, regardless of which language we use and whether we're the teller or the listener.

Karen E. Kelsay © 2007  All rights reserved.

As the local host for NPR's "Morning Edition" on my community's PBS station, I hear the news on a regular basis.  It often causes me to think.  As a result of the last few days' coverage of the uprising in Myanmar, I pause to delve more deeply.

We are inspired by the monks and citizens who have the courage and tenacity to stand up and demonstrate against a very brutal and oppressive regime.  How many of us really knew or understood the horrific conditions faced by so many in that country before the monks undertook the truly courageous act of civil disobedience that brought worldwide recognition to the plight of Myanmar's citizens?  More importantly, why are so many surpised at the boldness of those who hold their nation's spiritual conscience?

The monks undertook this endeavor because they take their jobs seriously -- they demonstrate their sacred service of holding the consciousness of their countrymen and women by their peaceful and very visible protest against those who oppress the hearts and souls that are in the monks' spiritual care. 

The impact is particularly astonishing because it is so rare to see these men of God take such an active role in their nation's affairs.  Still, even in their peaceful lives of contemplation and service, they're paying attention to what's going on around them.  And when the boiling point was reached they moved out into the community in a true act of spiritual activism.

They know what they're up against.  Past uprisings were squelched with extrmeme force and thousands died.  It's a pretty safe bet to think that their actions this week would be met with similar force.  

In sharp contrast, the jingoistic neoreligionists in our nation use the safety of pulpits and fortified buildings to press their agendas without regard to the greater good.  Their assertions of having the "moral high ground" no longer carry any real credibility because they've used their positions in a manner that disrepects principles both spiritual and secular.  Meanwhile, most of us are too harried and preoccupied to protest.  Without real opposition, the behavior continues and the freedom-limiting actions are bolder.  When will we reach our boiling point? 

As a so-called "spiritual progressive," I tend to support the idea of freedom in the context of the principles of right thought, right speech and right action.  I try to be influenced not so much by my own self-identified ideals of what's right and appropriate, but held to the ideal of what is in the highest and best good for those around me, as well as myself.  Core human values are pan-cultural and differ from special interest "values," which are basically self serving.  Sometimes serving the greater good means individual sacrifice.

A therapist friend recently told me that the word "sacrifice" means to make sacred.  It's not martyrdom or submissiveness. One who sacrifices willingly sees the need of the other, choosing -- in a sacred way --  to put aside one's own wants or desires in support of the one with the greater need.  The needs of the many trump the wants of the few every time.

The monks and ordinary citizens of Myanmar are putting the needs of the greater good ahead of their own innate desire for personal safety.   Would I do the same?  My own anger at injustice is simply lip service.  Heated and heart-felt, to be sure.  But I have not faced a phalanx of armed troopers intent on silencing my outrage at them and the "leaders" they represent.

How many Reiki Masters, AQAL practitioners, self-described enlighted masters and spiritual teachers have done more than simply protest in groups of like-minded individuals against the indecencies that are taking place in our own nation?  Look around -- our country is not so far from having similar circumstances descend upon us.  Websites, blogs and vegan potluck fundraisers for guest speakers who rile the intellect are nice and safe -- a make-believe activism that lulls us into a false sense of having done something important on our way to the recycling bin or homeless shelter or AIDS clinic where we volunteer a few hours per week.  The actions of the monks of Myanmar show us our own impotence.

But what would happen if we actually gathered by the hundreds of thousands or even millions to protest and speak out against the brutality of our own government against its people?  It doesn't matter whether our fellow citizens are "enlightened."  Are we willing to face the bullets of the soldiers of fortune employed by Blackwater on the steps of our own nation's capitol?

Or, are we content to sit in our local ashrams chanting prayers of peace and burning incense, sending "attaboy" messages to the citizens and monks of Myanmar?  Where is our sacrifice?

The students in Tiananmen Square and the Burmese monks finally reached the point at which the status quo was no longer acceptable.  My observation is that many of us are appalled by what we see in the world and here in our nation, but we haven't really stood up and done anything about it.  Like many of us, I'd like to think I'm courageous, but I don't know that I'd face the business end of a gun for my beliefs.  I'm surprised that I'm even publicly blogging about my emerging feelings.  Who knows who's reading this and on what list I've been placed as a result.  I don't doubt that it's not only possible, but it is very likely.

I think we each do what we can do, and collectively it all helps.  Still, the example of the monks showed me how ineffective we really are, even when we fool ourselves into thinking we're making a difference.  It takes far more than using our own canvas bags at the organic farm markets to make a significant impact.  Here in the U.S., I wonder how many of us are willing to do what it would take to make a profound difference?  We'd have to turn off the iPod, exit our browsers, and stop over-reacting to the guy who's getting on to the freeway ahead of us. 

I've observed that even spiritual folks can live mundane, foolish lives.  Our spiritual practices are often self-absorbed and narrow - even though they are disguised as revolutionary, new and expansive.  They're just taking the place of something else.  Don't get me wrong - I'm not suggesting that they not be done.  It takes doing something different to change our patterns.  If these processes take us out of the world completely, they are not serving their purpose. 

We're here to learn how to heal our wounds - and we've got to stop blaming everyone else for those wounds, they are what they are and we all have them.  Then we move past our own limitations and step into the world in a larger, more powerful way because fear is not limiting us. 

There are many myths around spirituality here in the Western world.  Peace doesn't mean hanging out in someone's living room watching a DVD from the Spiritual Cinema Circle and then blogging about the atrocities and injustices.  That is part of the process, but not everything.  Gandhi was more effective in jail than he was in his living room.  Still, I don't know whether I could do that, myself.  That's why I'm exploring this topic.

Karen E. Kelsay © 2007  All rights reserved.

It came to me one day, as I sat in traffic

While the noise and madness got me down.

Another long, hard day full of work, no play

As I chased my errands around town:

My body was moving, but I was not living;

The face in the mirror didn't smile;

My head was aching, my heart was breaking;

Something had been missing for a while.

How did I get there?  Where did it come from?

Why was there no end in sight?

There was a time when I thought I knew

My direction, my place, what was right.

I listened to old voices and made unwise choices

And I turned from the joy I once knew.

I paid the price, put my life in a vice.

Struggles, too many; triumphs, too few.

I cried one day, as I sat in darkness:

"What would chase this living death away?"

When a still, small voice cut straight through the madness,

This message I'm sharing today:

"In the beginning, when the Word was spoken

And all that's created came to be,

Each part of creation was given a Calling;

An urge to know Divinity.

"Listen to your Heart's Call.  Accept and receive your all.

The candle is burning; your heart is yearning; the fire inside points the way!

Let the spark ignite!  Live the passion inside!

And your life will start changing today.

"The emptiness eases when God's plan is heeded

By an open heart willing to give.

Doors open wide to the gifts that are needed

In a world that's dying to live.

"You know what's inside; let joy be your guide!

Your talent is the Call.

And you'll know you're really living

When you give your all-in-all!"

Karen E. Kelsay © 2005  All rights reserved.

I was listening to NPR this morning when I heard a story about a soldier who died recently from a sniper's bullet in Afghanistan.  His name was Christopher Pfifer.   His story is sad, and I do feel sorry for him and for his family.  But, it appears that the reporter missed an even larger story. 

The reporter interviewed Pfifer's platoon leader.  The young leader mentioned that he was grateful to have Chris in his platoon because he was a very capable guy.  On one occasion, the platoon was out of food and hungry.  They had to kill and butcher a goat to eat.  Hopefully, this didn't put them in greater danger -- I don't know if lynching is customary in Afghanistan for goat theft. 

I don't know the details -- perhaps they consumed their rations faster than they should have.  Even so, that means they're receiving insufficient rations.  Or, perhaps there was a problem delivering the rations to them.  That should be investigated. 

First, I was stunned that the reporter missed this as a story all by itself -- and I have already sent an email to NPR about it.  It points to the complacency toward indecency being practiced by the media in this country.  The reporter was so engrossed in presenting a war casualty sob story that this even more horrifying situation was overlooked.

If American parents truly understood the myth of the benevolent American government, perhaps they wouldn't send their youngsters to the military with church potlucks and family fanfare.  They'd have to stop being attached to their iPods and SUVs long enough to notice the price that's being paid for their nationalism.  

For some reason, the young men and women who've been duped, hypnotized, or shanghaied into "serving the country" need to fend for themselves for sustenance.  I'm not defending the war or American Imperialism, but I am saying that the government has a moral and ethical requirement to take care of the people it's luring into the situation.  In a way, the goat is an interesting metaphor in this story. 

I've contacted my senators, my congress representative, and my state's Governor (due to National Guard units being deployed in Afghanistan and Iraq).  I'm requesting that their military food supply issue be looked into.   I will probably receive the "gee, thanks for your interest in this topic and it's being noted" response, but I really don't know what else to do.  The other thing I can do is to encourage others to insist on some kind of accountability.  When many voices are speaking out about the same thing, sometimes the problem does get addressed.

Here's the link to the story about Christopher on NPR's website http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=15391868.  It's under their People and Places subheading.  The interview with the platoon leader is deeper into the story.   If this outrages you, or at least makes you wonder what in the world our military is doing out there, I'm urging you to contact your elected representatives and your state's Governor.

These young men and women should not have to live off the land after they're sent to these assignments.  I doubt that Blackwater employees have to hunt and eat goat meat.  While our government and military administrators need to be held accountable for the horrific gaffes they've already committed, here's another one to add to the list. 

Karen E. Kelsay © 2007  All rights reserved.

 

Why would I want to keep doing the same thing for the next 40-50 years?  God!  How boring!  Additionally, there is no way to remain static in this world.  I don't think we're really designed to march in place.  If we're willing, we shift and change.  I'm very willing!

I'm not even doing what I was doing a year ago.  Life changes.  Things happen.  One adapts, changes and grows through it.  As we change, our wants, needs and desires follow suit.  So do our interests, friends and activities.  Even our careers shift as the world shifts around us.   I've heard that a mind expanded cannot return to its previous size.  Not just a glib statement.

Growth seems to feed itself.  The more I travel on this journey, the more I want to see what's beyond the horizon.  I have more wonder and am more adventuresome than ever before.  Life's challenges haven't beat me down.  Rather, they have increased my zest.  I survived each one and it wasn't nearly as scary or devastating as I though it would be!  The Universe is supporting me, so now, what's next? 

Folks don't like change because they are afraid of losing their security.  Security isn't about doing the same thing without changing.   Resistance to what is results in our clutching and grabbing, and holding on at all costs strangles the life out of us.  Real security comes from knowing that no matter what happens, all will be as it needs to be.  It might not look the way we hope or desire, but things somehow manage to work themselves out.

I used to feel that life was running me and that I was a victim of circumstance.  Not a fun way to live, and it's exhausting.  Over the last several years, the still, small voice has weilded more and more influence and I've learned that all is simply what it is.  Digging in our heels and taking things personally benefit nothing.

Even though life happens and I can't control what happens, I can control my response to it.  That's where I find the center point.  I'm impeccable with my word, I show up and do my best, I don't take things personally, and I strive for understanding and compassion.  How can one remain in the same rut day after day when one meets life head-on and wraps oneself around it?

Karen E. Kelsay © 2007  All rights reserved

Love calls to me from the night of my soul.
I hear its voice; it is but a whisper.
It sings to me, calling my name until I awaken.
And then!  My eyes open and I turn to meet the sun of my existence, to see the daylight of Love's face reflected in my soul.
And my soul sings, returning this song of Love -- a duet sung by One.
I call Love's name until I am The Love.  

Karen E. Kelsay © 2001  All rights reserved.

"Where were you when President Kennedy was shot?'  This is a question most people in my generation have been asked, and most of us of a certain age can answer quite readily.  This was an event that changed a nation and seemed to be the kickoff to an age of fear, turmoil, and unrest.  Or, perhaps it was the moment when things that were hidden finally started to come to light -- the end of the Age of Camelot.  I've often thought the Camelot-JFK connection was an interesting mythological corollary. 

I was only five years old at the time.  I don't really remember much about being five, but I remember that day.  I couldn't watch the Mickey Mouse Club because there were news reports on instead.  It wasn't fair.

I was in Kindergarten at Longridge Elementary School.  We "kiddiegartners" only went to school half days; I attended the morning session.  Toward the end of that unforgettable morning there was a sudden and unusual burst of activity throughout the school.  We were all ushered back to our main classrooms.  Then, without explanation we were led down the hall and out the front doors.  Back in those days, grownups didn't explain things to kids.  They just did whatever they wanted to do and we had to go along with it.  Once outside, we were met with a long line of familiar, bright yellow school busses.  The driver of my bus, who also was a lunchroom monitor and tended to be very unpleasant to every child with whom she came in contact, was bossier than usual. 

I felt very confused.  I was used to getting on the bus at the end of the morning, but this was different.  The "big kids" (fifth and sixth graders) also were on the bus.  They were usually only on the bus going to school in the morning, never coming home. 

I remember some of the boys talking excitedly about some guy getting shot.  I really didn't understand what that meant, or why it was important.  I demanded to know what they were talking about, but they only told me to sit down and be quiet.

I hopped off the bus at the usual spot down the block from my home with all of the other kids from my neighborhood.  I walked down the sidewalk toward home.  When I opened the door and went looking for my mom, I was surprised to see that daddy was home.  They stood in the middle of the living room, dad's arm around my mother while she wept.  They were watching the black and white console television and there seemed to be a lot of commotion coming from it.  I wanted to know why my mom was crying and why daddy was home.  I was told to sit down and be quiet.

For the next couple of days, nothing was routine.  We kids stayed home from school, dad stayed home from work, and I couldn't watch the Mickey Mouse Club.  I recall seeing some other man getting shot as he was walking through a hallway.  I remember seeing a man looking serious, raise his hand and say some words.  There was a sad looking lady in the background.  The man saying the words scared me.  I'm still scared.

The entire family watched the President's funeral procession on television.  I remember the horse-drawn caisson that carried the coffin and the little boy in the knickers standing in salute in front of a woman who wore black and had a veil over her face - it was the same woman who stood behind the big, scary man earlier.  I still didn't really realize what had happened.  I only knew that it was big.

From that moment on, it seemed that there was always some kind of commotion coming from the black and white console television in the living room.  I spent a lot of time sitting down and being quiet as the world exploded around us.  Whatever happened to the Mickey Mouse Club?

Karen E. Kelsay © 2005  All rights reserved.

My mother is very fond of oriental décor.  The first memory I have of seeing oriental-style objects in our home is when I was about 12 years old.  Actually, it was more of an ecclectic, ersatz oriental, comprised of objects and furnishings gathered bit-by-bit from such exotic stores as Pier 1 and Spencer's, but it was lovely to her. 

She actually got much better at this type of décor after they moved to San Diego about 20 years ago, creating a much more tasteful, harmonious and balanced ambience. But the house in which I grew up in upstate New York was her first attempt at it.  I think she wanted something different from the basic beige that everyone else seemed to have in those days.  I always had the impression mom would have preferred to have been a "society lady," rather than the wife of a blue collar telephone lineman who belonged to the union, Masonic Temple and volunteer fire department.  Her unique decorative expression was, I think, her way of expressing that part of herself that didn't want to be like every other average, middle class woman in the suburbs.

The oriental flavor began its emergence in the large, rectangular family room Dad built at the back of our house when I was 12.  It was the largest room in the house, my mother's pride and joy.  It became the focal point of all of our gatherings.

The interior entrance to the room was carved from the back kitchen wall, behind the large, oval kitchen table. Mom hung colored plastic beads in the doorway; they rattled every time someone went from one room to the other.  Eventually, she tired of the constant rattle and tangle of the beads and tied back about half of them to facilitate movement between the rooms. 

The kitchen window above the sink was removed, the edges were finished and the space became a pass-through into the family room.  There was something comforting about sitting on the couch watching television and looking through that pass-through into the lighted kitchen beyond.  Sometimes mom would be at the kitchen sink, and we'd all chat through the opening.

The family room was the first in the house to have wall-to-wall carpeting.  In true 1970s style it was that now-gaudy orange/red/yellow shag that seemed to define the era.  Dad even covered a telephone cable spool with it. 

This spool became the "coffee table" sitting in that area inside the "L" formed by the couch against the far wall and the two occasional chairs that were against the wall below the kitchen window pass-through.  We could prop our feet on the table because it was covered by the rug, making it somehow acceptable to do to this table what one could never do to a real coffee table. 

On one part of the table was located a shallow square plastic tray that mimicked Japanese lacquer.  It always held an etched brass tea server, ostensibly from India (one of her Pier 1 finds).  An incense holder and candle also adorned the tray. 

The incense came from Spencer's.  It seemed somewhat "naughty" to me, because everyone knew that Spencer's was a hippie store.  They carried black lights, incense, highly fragrant body oils, psychedelic posters, suspiciously penis-shaped neck massage devices that I struggled not to look at, along with many other things that you just didn't find at J.C. Penney's or Naum Brothers.  Mom was particularly fond of sandalwood incense. I still love that smell today, although my incense of preference is Nag Champa.

The furniture was a set made of rattan.  The table surfaces were glass on top and canework on the lower level.  I hadn't seen anything like them in friends' homes.  The table lamps were also from Pier 1, fashioned from large etched brass bases with shades perched atop.  The cushions on the couch and occasional chairs were custom upholstered.  This seemed to me to be of some import because mom made considerable mention of it. 

A black metal fireplace graced the far corner.  That area also was unique.  For a firewall dad installed metal mesh, which he then covered with white, cement-like goo.  Prior to slathering on the goo, he and mom went to Frear's Lawn and Garden and bought sacks of white marble chips.  They spent days poking through the chips to pick out just the right ones.   Mom carefully placed those chips of white marble, one by one, into the goo that had been applied to the wire mesh.  The result was actually very nice, a corner adorned with white marble chips from floor-to-ceiling with a black corner fireplace sitting in front.  The raised hearth held loose white marble chips to catch any sparks and prevent them from igniting the nearby shag carpet.

The other corner on that side of the room held a rattan and cane bentwood rocker.  Against the wall between that rocker and the fireplace was some kind of set up for the stereo equipment.  In those days, it was a phonograph with a plastic lid (very modern!) and an eight-track cassette player.  It was early in Chuck Mangione's career.  He was a favored son from Rochester, and a student at the prestigious Eastman School of Music.  His first album was our first eight-track.  We were such a cool family!

The entire room was paneled with dark imitation wood paneling.  There were black vertical lines recessed in the pattern at variable intervals.  The ceiling was angled, high end up against the original part of the house, lower at the back of the room.  It was covered with white ceiling tiles. 

A big sliding glass door opened out to the back yard.  The Christmas tree stood in front of that door each year.  We didn't go outside through that door in the winter.  We usually went out through the garage.  We had so many wonderful Christmas and New Year's parties!

We were the first in our neighborhood to have a "built in" pool.  We also had a screen house that was set on a patio made of colored concrete squares.  The screen house was furnished with matching pieces.  I remember lots of pool parties and barbecues, both with family and with groups of friends from my church group, and later, from high school. 

My first wedding was held in that yard, in front of the pool.  Dad built a trellis and mom decorated it with white mums and daisies.  Fragrant white sweet alyssum and daisies lined the garden behind the pool.  Mom spent weeks planting those so they'd be perfect for the wedding. 

We rented chairs and lined them up to face the trellis between the family room and the pool.  Dad and I walked arm-in-arm from the family room, through the sliding glass door, down an aisle that was created between the rows of chairs, to the trellis where my nervous bridegroom waited with the minister from the local Presbyterian Church. 

My family wasn't affiliated with the church, but I went to Sunday school there with the kids from around the corner.  Their parents drove us, which was easy on mom and dad on Sunday mornings.  We kids were carted off to Sunday school and my parents stayed home.  The neighbor kids' pious parents later divorced. 

Anyway, I figured that was the best place to get a minister for the wedding.  Jeff and I met while I was in the Air Force and a few months earlier took a week's leave to drive up to my parents' place to plan the wedding.  We joined the Presbyterian Church at that time to ensure that the minister would officiate.  I think he realized we'd never actually attend the church, but he was gracious about it.  He surprised all of us at the rehearsal barbecue the night before.   We were all drinking whiskey sours - one of my dad's specialties - and offered the minister a soda.  He asked if he could have a whiskey sour instead.   

A college friend played her guitar and sang "The Wedding Song" as we walked down the aisle.  "Annie's Song" was the recessional.  How 1970s we were!  The cake was set in the screen house, on a table decorated with a white plastic table cloth.  The screen house made the most sense, since it was in the shade and it would keep the flies off of the icing. 

We had a lovely time that day, as we did on many days in our strangely decorated family room.  There was love, family, and friendship amidst times of anger, fear, and discord.  Happy memories were made, and as I look back, I now feel the love and the pride that my parents gave to me, and I recognize the painstaking work that went in to building that home and security - individual stone by individual stone.  Oddly, I forgot about much of that until now.

I haven't seen most my cousins or any of my high school or college friends since the wedding in July, 1977.  Jeff and I divorced after only six years of marriage.  Mom, dad and my sister moved to San Diego twenty years ago to be closer to their grandchildren - my kids, who, as adults, now live in other states.  My brother remains in upstate New York with his wife and son.  My sister and I rarely connect.  Dad died several years ago. 

Now, more than thirty years later, the house in which I grew up is occupied by someone else.  I wonder how the family room is decorated and whether there are parties.

Karen E. Kelsay © 2005  All rights reserved.

 

Okay, God.  I haven't done any writing in a while.  Just scared, I guess.  Not sure about what will come through, if anything.  I guess I'm mostly concerned about whether it will be You or me on the page.  I suppose it really doesn't matter, though.  Whatever comes through is what will come through.  So.  Here goes.  You and me.  Together again. What would you like to say to me?

The first thing you need to do is breathe.  It's okay.  I'm here for you.  Just as I always have been.  Let's pretend you're writing a letter - the way you did once before.  You pretended that, if your Higher Self were to write you a letter, what showed up on the page is what it would say.  So, let's do that again.  Let's pretend that I'm writing you a letter.

Okay.

Great.  Here goes:

Dear Karen,

Haven't had a chance to write in a while.  Thought maybe it would be nice to catch up on a few things.  I'm so glad you're taking the time to sit down and read this.   I know you've been very busy and you've had a lot on your mind.  That's okay - I'm pretty patient.

I know you've been missing me.  There's a place in your heart that's been crying out for something for a while.  You've missed that connection.  I know you've been afraid of it - or rather, afraid that, if you sit down to take the time to try to connect with me that somehow I won't be there.

This isn't the case, however.  I'm always here.  I've never left you - even when others tried to tell you that you weren't in connection, or "alignment" with me.  You're always connected.  It's just that, sometimes, you make other choices that take you in a direction that disguises or hides that connection.  But the connection is always there, just the same.

You and I can communicate easily with each other.  Just as we did before.  I miss that communication, too.  So glad you've decided to take another try at it.

It doesn't have to be perfect, you know.  And it's okay if a little bit of "you" creeps onto the page.  You can only hear me through your own perception anyway.  What comes through is going to depend on your state of mind and your receptivity at any given time.  That's perfectly okay.  I always come to you right where you are.  I never expect you to be anywhere other than right here, right now.  I accept everything about you.  I know who you are, and what you're thinking, how you're feeling.  I'll never force anything on you.  I think you know that.

But, what you will experience is exactly what you've been experiencing these last few months.  You feel a tug on your heart.  A sense of dissatisfaction and unease.  You want something more. 

You've even been wishing that things were the way they were before you became aware of my presence in your life.  That's okay.  I'm not offended.  I want you to know me, and to know yourself through me.  It's what you've always wanted, as well.  I'll never force it on you, though.  But you will know that I have something for you - something far greater than you can imagine or dream.  I whisper this to you, and when you want to hear everything, I know you'll sit down and listen.

This tug on your heart is in response to that whisper.  It's responding to that sense of a deeper self.  Its inclination is to follow that whisper, and to listen until it hears everything. 

I'm not asking you to give up your earthly life.  That would be counter to everything I do.  But, I'm trying to show you that there is a different way to live your life.  A way that is in deeper communion with me, and through that, a deeper communion with all of life.

Karen, you want to hear me.  And you want to follow what you hear.  This I know about you.  So, why don't you just sit down and take the time to do that - just as you're doing now.

See?  The words are flowing easily and smoothly.  You don't have to think about them - even if you do edit a bit as you go along.  But it's happening.  I haven't let you down.  I'm right here - and as long as you're willing, we will have this wonderful communion. 

Would you like to have more?  That's great!  So would I!  There's so much to share and so many things I'd like to show you.  And I know you want to know them, too.

So - here goes.

Right now, you're wondering what direction to take in your life.  You're dissatisfied with your job and wondering why you're there and how to move away from it easily and gracefully.

I understand.  Chaos, as you see it, is not a place that's comfortable for you.  You were willing to go there, earlier on, and so you did.  But, now you find that this is not truly a place where you'd like to be.  That's perfectly okay.  You never have to stay any place longer than you wish to. 

Things are happening elsewhere.  A place is being made ready for you.  You just need to be a little more patient.  Everything will change soon.  But remember, your work environment does not define who you are, and you are not bound to it.  Rather, you have a mandate to do your best no matter what you do or where you do it.  So, keep doing your best where you are right now.  This is important.  Even though you're bored, irritated and dissatisfied with the current situation.  It's important to be present and do the right thing no matter what. 

Ease and grace are important to you, too.  As disappointed as you are with your current job, and with the people around you, you still want to leave with respect and dignity.  And you don't want to hurt the feelings of those around you.  This is appropriate.  I know there is much you'd like to say to many of the folks in the office.  But what you have to say really is unimportant to them.  They're having their experience, and you're having yours.  Believe it or not, they want you to have a good experience, too.  They like you and care about you.  Even if the way it's demonstrated doesn't make sense to you or feel good to you.  These folks are doing the very best they can.  Just as you are.  So, my advice is to let them be who they are and simply accept with ease and grace.

You see, you have to practice ease and grace in order to experience it.  It doesn't just fall upon you, as if from nowhere.  If you are in resistance or unacceptance, you won't be having an easy experience.  You don't have to agree with everything.  Just accept that it is what it is.  There will be times when it's appropriate to voice your opinion or to make changes to a situation.  But not always.  Just because you see things differently doesn't mean that you have a mandate to change the situation to fit your perception.

And sometimes it's appropriate to leave a situation that isn't a good fit for you. 

I know.  Lately it seems as if you're having a hard time fitting in anywhere.  You have a unique way of doing things and fitting in with other folks has always been a bit of a challenge for you.   Part of that has to do with acceptance, too.  You've been unwilling to accept what others are expressing or experiencing.  It doesn't always fit what you think is right.  But consider this:  It's right to them. 

You don't have to hide who you are, or pretend to be someone you're not.  That's not being true to yourself, nor is it being genuine with others.  You can express yourself lovingly, respectfully, and gently.  And then give others space in which to do the same for themselves. 

You can still live your life in accordance with your principles, even while accepting that others are living their lives in accordance with their own principles.  That's how you fit in.  As long as others don't feel threatened or diminished by you, they'll return the acceptance. 

So - it's okay to have your own opinions and beliefs, and to share them when it's appropriate.  But remember that an opinion or belief is unique to you.  It's your way of telling the world who you believe you are.  Your opinions aren't about the other person; they're about you.  The other person isn't required to change anything about himself or herself. 

Remember something you read some time ago:  "Your truth is not necessarily THE truth."  But if you live in accordance with THE truth, your truth can be expressed easily and gracefully.  If you get a moment, read 1 Corinthians 13 again.  That will give you some guidance for having your experience while allowing others to have theirs.

I know you want to go do something "mindless, brainless" now.  Our flow of conversation was interrupted and now your mind is wandering.  Just know that, even if we are interrupted, the communion is always here.  Something from the outside might take your attention away for a while, but my attention is always focused on you.

So, when you're ready to sit down and read another letter from me, I'll be ready.  We'll pick up just where we left off. 

I'm really glad we had this time together.  I love you, and I look forward to our next letter together.

Until then, practice peace through acceptance.  Let life flow.  If you don't like the stream you're in, move to another stream.  But remember to simply let it flow.  If you try to build a dam in the stream you're in, the water becomes deep and stagnant and fetid and you then create a situation that jeopardizes you and you must flee.  This isn't harmonious. 

Goodbye for now.  Let's get together again real soon.

Much love,

Me

Karen E. Kelsay © 2005  All rights reserved.

Being alone is actually one of my favorite things.  If you can call it a thing.  I love spending time with my friends and my lover.  And I appreciate time with my family when those rare opportunities are created.  My community, workplace and other activities are wonderful, as well, and I find peace and happiness in those places.  I have a very active and full life.  Still -- my "me" time is the juiciest time of all. 

I never feel lonely, nor do I feel solitude.  Perhaps that means on some level I am aware of the larger collective and my place in it?  That's a rather lofty thought.  Maybe it's because I have my kitty companions, books, music, movies, cooking projects, writing, studying and chores to do when I'm by myself.  And there's the fullness of the quiet when nothing is going on at all.  So, is that really being alone?

In reviewing that list, perhaps my "me" time isn't really alone time after all.  There's always something going on, even when I'm meditating or contemplating. 

Maybe I like it because it's a selfish place to be.  I don't have to interact with anyone else.  As an introverted intuitive and someone who is clairesentient, I'm always perceiving energy on some level.  When I'm by myself, I don't feel quite as assualted by the thoughts and feelings of others.  I don't deliberately pick up on the energy, it just is a part of my experience.  I try not to interact with it or judge it, although that's not always easy.  Sometimes it just happens.  Still, there is a part of me that's always filtering or armoring.  When I'm home alone, I can let that part of me be still for a while.  I can recharge and rest.   That alone time gives me the ability to be able to be out there in the world and participate.

Karen E. Kelsay © 2007  All rights reserved.

Frankly, I haven't been thinking much about what I've been thinking about.  But, now that I do think about it, I realize that there has, indeed, been a significant shift in my thoughts.

They're darker, gloomier and less hopeful lately.  I feel a sense of resignation, of giving up.  I've lost my energy and optimism.  As I mentioned in an email to a friend just this morning -- it seems that with age the figure and hair color go first, and then go the idealism and enthusiasm.  I'm just feeling too old and tired to change the world.  Maybe I just need a higher dose of Celexa.

I'm not sure why.  When I sit back and take stock of my situation, I have much about which to be grateful.  The Universe, Spirit, God/Goddess, whatever you want to call the Higher Power or Presence (if indeed it is that), seems to make a point of taking care of me even when I have serious doubts about It's ability or willingness to do so.  When things seem to be at their bleakest, love, compassion, mercy and grace come gliding in to lift me out of the trenches.   So -- why do I still feel so bleak?

This thought riff seems so contrary to my usual pattern.  I just re-read my blogs of the last few months.  I am wonderstruck.  Am I the same person who wrote those optimistic and faith-filled pronouncements?  Is this the same mind that felt anger and ire at the lack of justice in the world and who had the temerity to post it publicly in a dangerous time to do so?  Not that anything I wrote would ever incite anyone to contemplate or take action.  I certainly have taken only modest action.  Today, however, I sigh and figure it's just more noise, added to everyone else's.  Where is my fire?  The body is the same.  But the spirit seems to be someone else's.

Have any of those who practice the amalgam of  "consciousness" lifestyles represented on this social network really created change?  Or, are we simply dreamers playing with the ethers -- practicing a sort of spiritual and social masterbation, getting off on lofty ideals while dressing in gauzy outfits and drinking free-trade, carbon neutral water blessed by the High Karma Dogma out of dioxin-free bottles made by Buddhist nuns?  Ironically, there's a plethora of spiritual "systems" out there that pronounce Oneness.  Which seems contradictory, don't you think? 

So -- with this abundance of transformational processes, where is the transformation?  Where is the change we wish to see in the world?  Why isn't anything any of us do ever enough to create the shift in thought that would change the world?  And who's change is the right change, anyway?  Who are we to assume that our self-described "higher" ideals of love, light, mercy, compassion, right thought, right speech, right action, right relationship and right livelihood are the right ideals?  Are they even possible to create on a large scale?
 
Yeah, I believe there's something -- I know, because I've experienced it.  But what the heck am I supposed to do with it?  What I got ain't new, different, exciting or particularly evolved.  Obviously.  Frankly, I give up.  I'm tired.  I'm overwhelmed.  My body's in pain.  And I'm just tryin' to pay the rent.

I'm pretty burned out these days.  I've worked diligently in the spiritual movement for 10 years, doing all of the things you recommend.  But, in the last year I've just not had the juice for it. 

While I found my spiritual work as a healer and teacher to be personally fulfilling and satisfying, I was having a tough time paying the rent.  And, I was frustrated by the quasi-spiritual, almost rote behavior of the people around me. It seemed that the spiritual life was becoming hackneyed and trite - a lifestyle rather than a life's calling.  Instead of practicing right thought, right speech, right action, right relationship and right livelihood, I observed a lot of scarmbling after the "right" attire, "right" food, "right" guru or teacher, "right" magazine, "right" incense, "right" music, etc. 

And, I'm not sure if it's real evolution or people are just looking for anything new and different, but I see so many different takes on spirituality, systems, processes, etc., that it just seems that almost anything goes as long as it's free-range, organic, fair trade, recycled, dioxin- and oil-free, and marketed appropriately. 

Spiritual folks do what everyone else does - choose sides and follow the crowd.  If I don't look like or sound like those folks over there, I'm discounted as not being spiritual enough.  So, what difference is made by anything I do?  Is any difference made by anything any of us do at this point?  Or are we just satisfying ourselves simply by the attempt?

So, I've dropped out.  I'm taking a break from spiritual community, although I still contemplate and seek the "inner" God.  Maybe I'm suffering as a result. 

But, my 3-D world was suffering during my focus on the spiritual.  It was tough to pay the bills and constant economic change created constant job turnovers.  My meditation practice has suffered because I'm so drained I simply fall asleep. 

Still, I know that spirit is present and it seems to make a point of loving and supporting me when I'm being grumpy and irritable.  I recognize and am grateful for the constant gifts that are bestowed upon me.  I'm still in love with the Presence.  I'm just not overly fond of the world right now. 

Karen E. Kelsay © 2007  All rights reserved.

It occurred to me recently that personal transformation has become a pretty popular enterprise.  Teachers, books, techniques, and workshops abound.   

Okay, I admit the reason I've come to this conclusion is that I plan to attend yet another day-long workshop on how to transform my life.  The flyer promises that the techniques I learn during this "experiential workshop" will not only change my life, but by making those changes in my life I can change the world.  Wow.  That's a pretty lofty ideal.  I'm not sure that we can really do this in an afternoon, but still, I think I'll go because I'm keenly interested in changing the world. 

I've attended various workshops like these for several years, so I have a pretty fair idea about what I'll find when I arrive:

Organizers will look a little harried as they flutter around the sign-in table. There will be a strange atmosphere of approachability, confusion, diffidence, chaos, and poor communication. Name tags will be issued; perhaps they'll already be printed up for those of us who've pre-registered (assuming our names actually appear on the pre-registration log and someone can find evidence that we have indeed already paid our fee). Or, our hosts will provide chunky blue marking pens and blank white stickers ready to be adorned by our names. Some folks will add flourishes and artwork to stand out among the crowd of folks who are there to express their Oneness.

There will be newbies as well as folks who are "seminar junkies." Some will already have been to several workshops put on by the same group with which we will interact this day. They'll have that "in the know" camaraderie and will greet each other with confident smiles, hugs, and have chummy conversations in hushed, excited tones about tasty tidbits of insider information they just can't wait to share with each other. The rest of us will be cut from the pack and will feel just a bit unworthy to be in the midst of such an illumined group.

Some will be overawed by the whole experience. After all, the workshop is being presented by one of the nationally-recognized teacher's direct students. This means, of course, that we're getting the inside scoop on cutting-edge personal and planetary transformation theory and technology. Simply by our being here we're among the elect - the few who now are privy to what others haven't yet experienced. By the end of the workshop, we'll no longer be outside the pack; we'll be one of the insiders and at the next workshop we'll be able to greet the others with warm smiles, hugs, and chat in hushed, excited tones.

Everyone will be carrying water bottles. Among the elect, the water bottle be one of those blue, dioxin-free containers filled lovingly at home from special filtration contraptions designed to de-ionize and re-ionize, detoxify, energize, balance, and imbue mystical, healing properties to what was once simple H₂O. If one is really among the elect of the elect, the filtration contraption was lovingly blessed during a full fire and water ceremony by a direct descendant of the Third Most High Mystical KarmaDogma on the evening of the last full moon to occur during the millenium's only blossoming of the sole surviving MamaSutra tree on the Holy Mount of High Mists. This, of course, is now the only water that can be consumed by the rare blessed ones who plunked down $2500.00 for the filter. The rest of us will drink from dioxin-laden flimsy plastic water bottles plucked hurriedly from the shelf of the convenience store down the street from the day's venue.

Participants also will tote their own meditation cushions, knee-rests, or other accoutrements to help make their day more comfortable. Every stitch of clothing was weaved by exiled Tibetan nuns. The materials from which the clothing is made came from sustainable farming practices, using only the rarest of silkworms (which are fed vegan diets and treated humanely) and organically grown cotton or hemp plants. 

Someone will begin to ring meditation bells as a signal that it's time to enter the holy of holies for this transformational day at the Embassy Suites.  We'll wend our way through the clusters of folks who stop in the doorway to chat and embrace.  I have often wondered why people who are so committed to movement are determined to block all entries and exits at every opportunity.
 
Shoes will be shed and left in heaps along the edge of the meeting room wall.  Hopefully, I'll be able to find both of mine when it's time to go home.

As we enter the conference room, we'll see a sea of blue BackJacks.  Typically, there's barely enough room to fully stretch one's legs all the way out.  Not sure why that is, but it seems to be  de rigueur at every similar event.  We'll jostle around, piling our stuff behind and around us in an attempt to find a comfortable sitting position for the next several hours.

As the morning unfolds, we'll get up and move those BackJacks around into several different formations, depending on the exercise.   We'll pick up and re-arrange all of our accoutrements each time.  The room will swell with excited chatter and conversation and it will take several minutes for the facilitators to entice attention back to the front of the room.

At some point we'll break for a snack of fair-trade organic raw almonds and raisins harvested by an intrepid tribe of indigenous people scratching out a subsistence living in a remote village perched atop the highest peak in the Azores. The village elder is a wise shaman who foretold the coming of the day when the tribe's almonds and raisins would be consumed by our very group. The shaman, of course, will have blessed our snack before sending it down the mountain on the backs of rare, albino donkeys which also were blessed prior to undertaking their journey of deliverance.

The nature of an "experiential workshop" is such that at some point during the day the facilitator will tell us to pair up in dyads or other groupings. We'll then sit knee-to-knee and perhaps hold hands. Or perhaps we will be asked to create an energy flow-inducing gymnastic that will create a sore tailbone long before any energetic benefits are realized. We will make direct eye contact, gazing lovingly and receptively into each other's deep, dark corners. Our inner lights will shine forth and we'll create a safe haven in which to bare our souls to people we've never met before. Chances are, the person with whom I'm going to partner will be on some weird garlic and Noni juice diet and I will have a very difficult time focusing on being lovingly present with the person's existential woes.

Instead, I'll be frantically trying to take shallow breaths in such a way as to avoid offending my partner while staving off nuclear odor damage to the tiny yet extremely sensitive receptors lining the insides of my unenlightened nostrils. I'm always surprised by the amount of flatulence that seems to proliferate among folks who eat only macrobiotic raw foods and practice countless hours of advanced yoga techniques for optimum bioenergetic performance and physiological function. In spite of the prevalence of major garlic breath and other odors, epiphanies will be the order of the day. Tears will flow and hugs will follow. Transformation will occur, at least for that moment. But then, being in the moment is what it's all about, right?

Okay, so maybe I'm not quite ready to change the world, or at least maybe I'm not ready to go to that workshop after all.  And I have to admit that I'm feeling somewhat unimpressed by the proliferation of spiritual gizmos and ersatz spirituality. 

Still, while the whole movement seems to be entirely predictable, there is something refreshing about being able to get out of the everyday grind of traffic, office politics, more traffic, grocery store and bank lines, and competitive salad making at the Whole Foods salad bar (I'm always surprised by the grabbing and glaring that goes on there -- really, folks.  There is enough to go around).  It is nicer to spend the day with people behaving spiritually rather than with people behaving badly.  Maybe I'll go to that workshop after all.

How do we keep this going without becoming cliche?  That's what I'm challenging people to examine.  For me, I have pulled out of "spiritual community," at least for now.  I'm focusing less on spiritual ya-ya or being one of the spiritual in-crowd.  I've done enough of them to realize that there is a common chord that runs through it all, and that is what I'm looking at and examining.  My journey to awareness, etc., has become more personal and (contrary to appearances) quieter.  I'm allowing the Presence to reveal itself to me in the way that is unique to my relationship with it (complete with neuroses, bad hair days and filters), rather than following anyone's prescription for ascension, enlightenment, consciousness - whatever buzzword fits.

There's as much automatic (and frequently just plain rude) behavior among spiritual folks as there is among religious and non-religious folks.   And, as with religion, there are so many paths and processes that claim Oneness, enlightenment, integration, etc. - most of which just seem to be take-offs on someone else's work.  Each person has a slightly different take, and adds it to the previous teacher's work.  Evolution is good and necessary, but I think sometimes folks who don't want an office job are just looking for a way to earn a living and gain some attention.  Still, it seems to be human nature.  It's the same way we got Methodists, United Methodists, First United Methodist, United Free Methodists, etc. 

It's funny - spiritual folks do exactly the same thing folks have always done.  Just wearing different clothes and eating different foods, sometimes using a different language.  I never understood why it is that these non-Western non-religious paths to God seem to have a requirement to reject everything that went before and focus on the outer form, just as long as it's different.   It's important to get additional information and viewpoints out, but sometimes it's wearying to watch the spiritual-movement-of-the-month-club shuffle.  Or the rainforest-superfood-berry-drink-of-the-moment spiritual consumer rush.   Maybe wearying isn't the right word.  It's getting comical.

Where is the spiritual discernment these days?  Instead, I see a lot of spiritual competition and one-upsmanship.  Where is God in all of this?

I have to come clean, though.  There was a time early in my spiritual quest when I dearly wanted to fit in.  So I did all of the things I noted in my blog.  Then, one day, it struck me as lip service rather than heart service.  But I began to notice the play acting a few years ago and decided to really look at my own spiritual behavior as a result.  I've shifted to a certain extent, although I'm the first to acknowledge that continual shift is an absolute requirement.  Maybe some day I won't pay any attention to whatever anyone does.  I'm not there yet, though.

Spirituality shouldn't be marketed.  Or at least, I think we need to be careful about the way we "consume" spirituality.   Still, how would we know there was another way of thinking about God/Spirit/Whateveryouwanttocallit without those who pass it on.  I appreciate those who have gone before me.  There's the conundrum, though, isn't there?  If someone's book or workshop hadn't been there to help me understand what was going on back when I first began having spontaneous mystical experiences, I'd probably have shut the experiences down or sought psychiatric help.

So - how do we keep the learning fresh without getting hooked into the trappings?

Karen E. Kelsay © 2008  All rights reserved.

What is the nature of happiness?  Do "happy" thoughts create happiness, or does the activity of being happy engender happy thoughts?   Is it a state of being, a state of mind, an experience or a circumstance? 

In the New Thought world thought creates emotion, which leads to experience.  Change your thinking, change your life, which changes your thinking, which further changes your life, etcetera.  Can anything truly "make" us happy?  Or, do we simply choose to be happy?  Is it even as simple as choice?  Is being happy mere happenstance, or is it the result of a personal quest?  Since it's transient, is it even a worthwhile quest?  

I don't believe any thing or experience can truly make us happy.  Yet, the things we think will make us happy wield an inordinate amount of power in our lives.  Conversely, the idea of being unhappy or even the potential for unhappiness can bring us to our knees.  Sometimes that's a good stance to take, especially when we recognize that the Presence is the source and substance of all that is and is not.  However, when we're on our knees because we're groveling, we're in a very unempowered and undignified position.

We spend a lot of  time pursuing happiness, so it follows that it's a desireable state.  It is a place in which we tend to be more expansive, expressive and creative.  Although unhappiness also is a deep well for creativity.  There are astonishing gifts in the darkness and some of the most beautiful art, poetry and music have come from it, as well as profound growth and evolution.  So why not pursue unhappiness with the same vigor with which we chase happiness?

Still, how many times do we "put on a happy face" for the benefit of others, or simply to prevent others from perceiving our inner turmoil?  Therefore, the simple appearance of happiness can be deceptive.  "How are you?" is often met with, "I'm fine, thanks" even when we're not.  We're afraid to tell the world we're not happy.  Is it unacceptable to be unhappy? 

A couple of my more recent postings were written during a funk and were lovingly responded to by well-intentioned folks who provided a prescription for my return to happiness.  This is not to minimize those very wonderful responses -- they did remind me that I have the power to shift my experience and I am grateful for the reminder (I experience chronic clinical depression and despite medication can sometimes fall into a pit).  Still, it caused me to think about the need for people to rescue people who are seemingly unhappy.  We can't stand to observe another's discomfort.  Especially people who have a spiritual orientation.  Why is that?  Is happiness somehow a badge of spiritual achievement?

I noticed that the Zaadz webmasters tagged this question with "happiness, simplicity, appreciation, gratitude."  Interesting collection of words.  Is the assumption that simplicity is a necessary component of happiness, for which we automatically feel appreciation and gratitude?  Or can we find happiness in something complex and challenging? 

What, specifically, is happiness?  Is it an action, emotion, expression, or something else? I read some place that happiness is an emotion -- a response to a stimulus.  Whereas joy, according to the writer (sorry, don't remember who), is a quality that comes from a soul level.  Does that make happiness less valuable than joy, or somehow less desireable or dignified?  Is that even an accurate characterization of either word, or is it arrogance to differentiate between levels of happiness, adjudging one person's happiness to be more acceptable than someone else's?

I looked up the word, "happy."  Here's what I found:  It's an adjective, which in the world of words is a word that modifies a noun (person, place or thing).  Interestingly, my dictionary says that an adjective accomplishes this modification by limiting, qualifying, or specifying.  So -- does that mean "happiness" has its limits and specifications?  The same dictionary defines happy as, "Characterized by luck or good fortune; prosperous.  Having or demonstrating pleasure or satisfaction; gratified."  There's also trigger-happy, but that's another discussion for another day. 

Words associated with "happy" include:  elated, ecstatic, joyful, thrilled, pleased, jubilant, glad, content, cheerful, in high spirits, blissful, exultant, delighted, cheery, jovial, on cloud nine, fortunate, favorable, lucky -- to list just a few.  It appears, then, that there are many opportunities in life to experience happiness in varying degrees and manifestations.

"Unhappy" also is an adjective.  It's defined as, "Not happy or joyful; sad.  Not bringing good fortune; unlucky.  Not suitable; inappropriate."  Words associated with "unhappy" include:  sad, miserable, discontented, despondent, dejected, gloomy, forlorn, sorrowful, melancholic, depressed, and down.

I guess, based on the dictionary definition, unhappiness is indeed an inappropriate or undesireable state.  I wonder why that is?  It's just as natural as happiness is.  Unhappiness can be a great motivator.  If the stone in our shoe didn't hurt, we'd leave it there and possibly cause ourselves injury.  And it's often said that we wouldn't know we were happy unless we had the opposite experience.  Which then spurs us back toward happiness.  What a happy partnership!

Joy is a noun. It's not a person, so that leaves place and thing as characteristics.  That supports the notion that it's an inherent quality on some level.   Still, it's defined as, "A condition or feeling of high pleasure or delight; happiness; gladness.  The expression or manifestation of such feeling.  A source or object of pleasure or satisfaction."  So -- would joy also be connected with outside circumstance or thought?  Is there truly any difference between happiness and joy, or is it simply a matter of degree?

So, happiness and joy seem to be characterized by a response to an outside circumstance.  But, the baseline for happiness isn't universal.  It's based on one's ideals and values, and on what one has or doesn't have or what a person wants or doesn't want.  Unlimited text messaging would create happiness for some folks, while the ability to read and write would delight others.  $500 designer sunglasses would bring gratification to some, while any kind of eyesight would be good fortune to others.  A burning cross would be the source of jubilation for one group, while it's a source of anger for another. 

Since the source happiness differs from person to person, there appears to be no right or wrong way to be happy (I know, I know.  I can read you now.  Anything that causes harm, damage, destruction, disrespect, etc. is not exactly a higher form of happiness.  Unless you're a gang banger, pornographer, Hell's Angel or Dick Cheney).  

There are stories of mystics and heroes who were ecstatic even in the worst of conditions.  It looks like happiness is a universal experience, regardless of what brings it on.  And -- how is it that in the best of circumstances, there are those who can't find or experience happiness? 

Since it happens so readily and easily and there are so many facets to it, why does it seem to be elusive?  Or is that elusiveness just a myth?  Are we naturally happy as a species, only to be interrupted by moments (or longer) of unhappiness? 

When you look at it, you see that happiness really is abundant and we are naturally wired for it.  The brain and body make happiness hormones.  Humans use Zoloft and chocolate to boost seratonin levels when natural brain juices dip.  Happiness is big business.  A lot of things out there promise to make us happy or at least elicit that happy feelin'.

Despite its abundance and our easy access to it, it is very fragile.  The feelings of well-being and satisfaction that accompany happiness can be shattered easily.   When the object of our happy reverie is removed from us, we become despondent and vexed as if happiness will never again be within our emotional grasp.  The prospect of unhappiness can create fear and anxiety, among other things. 

So, perhaps the pursuit of happiness is actually the cause of unhappiness?  Maybe we just need something to pursue.  Otherwise, we'd be unhappy.

Karen E. Kelsay © 2008  All rights reserved.

I feel compelled to write.  About what, I don't know.  I think my writing is about God for the most part.  Maybe I'm trying to get to know it better through words and exploration.

I used to write more frequently, but for some reason in the last couple of years I've held back.  Writing seems to be the key to something for me.  Perhaps it's unlocking something.

I don't know why I hesitate.  I'm a better than average writer.  It's as if I judge what will be written before it even flows from my pen.  It's all been said before.  Who would want to read anything I write?  What difference do these words make?  Do they even have to make any difference at all?  Can the words and the manuscript they create just be what they are -- an outcome of a creative process?

What is creativity, anyway?  Who is qualified to judge its fruits?  What is art, music, literature, cooking, graffiti, or athleticism?  There are times when we see genius running through someone and know it's God expressing.  Yet, there are so many quiet geniuses and creative people whose work is just as brilliant.  How did God feel when it created everything that is and is not?  How does it feel when people don't admire its handiwork?

Just as I, when being creative, don't always know what will take form when I start, does God know ahead of time what will result from the initial outflow of energy, light and logic?

My belief is that God is pure light, sound and energy.  There are those who say that it's highest and purest form of expression is love.  I'm not sure it's as simple as that.  If God is all that is, that includes its opposite.  There's no up or down, high or low in God.  Everything about it is simply an aspect of itself.  WE believe the highest expression of divine energy is love.  But who are we to say?  We have a tendency to make things complex and convoluted.

Here's what I think I know:

God exists.  Since God is light, sound, and vibration, everything that exists is God.  There is nothing that is not God.  It's at the core of everything.  The mystics say God wants to be known.  If it doesn't have an ego, how could it want anything?  I think WE want to know God.  Perhaps it's hard-wired into us.

God's power and presence are not a secret.  The way to know God has been told to us since humankind began to wonder about the reason for life.  As soon as humankind could comprehend that something is present and working in the world, we were given the roadmap for becoming familiar with that presence. 

And we keep coming back to that concept that God is Love.  So there must be something to it.

It's not the love that most of us think of, which is an emotional expression filtered through our wounds and misperceptions.  Real love -- God love, that which Jesus called agape -- is so much more.

I've been fortunate enough to have had occasional glimpses of this agape.  It is challenging to express it in words.  Many spiritual paths refer to it as a secret.  I think that's because verbal expression is so difficult.   How to describe the indescribable?

I sense that this love truly is at the core of our being.  It is the stuff of which we are made.  A belief that we are something else is an illusion, a mistake.  And yet, we are given the freedom to make that mistake, to believe that we are anything less than what we truly are.  We like to think that God doesn't make mistakes.  I wonder if that's really true?

The great task -- our task -- is to work our way through the mistake and come back to the core.  God's love, this love from which we are never separated but frequently seem to be missing.

Even when I'm missing that love, the desire to return to it, to know it, experience it, and ultimately to express it -- is a key component within me.  We all, in our own fashion, endeavor to return to that state.  But since most of us really don't know what it is (or there wouldn't be so many systems out there to find it), many stop short of truly experiencing it.  Our focus as a society is generally outward rather than inward.

That which is greater than me already exists within me.  That which is within me is greater than anything that is outside of me.  The only truth is agape.  The key to going back to that truth time and again is to move through anything that is not expressed as love.  When it feels as if that love is not present, faith in its existence is what keeps the spark alive.  But sometimes I have to really work hard to find that faith and to allow it to propel me back toward the awareness of the presence within me.

It's written that faith without works is empty.  Our hands are God's hands.  Everything we touch is touched by God.  Our eyes are God's eyes and our voices are God's voice.  Everything we gaze upon is seen by God.  Every time we speak, God speaks. 

When I remember that, then I know that everything I do or say, every thougth and action, become sacred acts.  When I remember God is acting through me, it changes everything.  Love changes everything through me.

By the same token, works without faith are just as empty.  To act from the self, even in the name of God, without recognizing the divine love that is our inspiration and motivation without surrendering our actions to that very inspiration, becomes an empty exercise.  It is mere activity.  Acting from faith without using our God-given gifts such as wisdom and discernment also can be empty acts. 

Outward demonstrations of faithfulness such as attending this workshop, participating in that drumming circle, eating these foods, wearing those clothes, conducting such and such a ceremony, satisfy the personality, but do they fulfill the heart's longing?  There is an outward faith, an acting out of faith, that is the most common expression of a belief in some sort of divinity. 

To engage in activities that remind us of God's existence in our lives is vitally important.  The key is to use them as a tool for rememberance rather than as a substitute for the real thing. 

Living with the knowledge of the presence and allowing that to express itself is a quiet demonstration of faith, but the results are far more profound.  Surrendering to it manifests itself in  very subtle ways -- politeness, kindness, acceptance of others' differences while recognizing that the same God that exists within us also exists within another, compassion, mercy, joy, beauty and peace are simpler expressions of that deep and abiding love, that agape. 

So that brings me back to my original musing -- what is creativity?  I think it's when the presence moves through me to express itself.  It uses all of me, ego, bad hair days, irritibility, happiness, joy, sex, cooking, writing, whatever activity or emothion is present, to express itself as an aspect of itself.  I don't think it's always about love, but love lets me be whatever I am.  And its power still creates with whatever is at hand.  And I keep coming back for more.

Karen E. Kelsay © 2008  All rights reserved.