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Jan's Blog

A Day in a Life: Dancing Crows

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Last week Chuck and I had many discussions around the subjects of good and evil, death as an advisor, impermanence, the shadow, accepting that we all have inner demons, negative energy, the capacity to commit murder, and that we must all face these things at some time in our lives or risk having to reincarnate. The subjects kept coming up again and again in various circumstances and encounters. As we sat at the breakfast table early one morning over the weekend a synchronistically powerful event occurred right before our eyes that we just could not escape. It was supremely meaningful, underscoring the very conversation we were having at the time, which centered around the capacity that we have as human beings to hide from our true nature, to want to pretend that we are only good, and how hard it is to confront the truths of our inner darkness. Life would be so much easier if everyone were happy, good, loving, kind and compassionate. I totally agree and could wish for nothing more. But as any Buddhist will tell you, it can take a lifetime of intense inner work to reach even a moment of enlightenment.

The following is a quote from The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying by Sogyal Rinpoche, which I am particularly fond of and drawn to almost daily.

“One of the chief reasons we have so much anguish and difficulty facing death is that we ignore the truth of impermanence. We so desperately want everything to continue as it is that we have to believe that things will always stay the same. But this is only make-believe. And as we so often discover, belief has little or nothing to do with reality. This make-believe, with its misinformation, ideas, and assumptions, is the rickety foundation on which we construct our lives. No matter how much the truth keeps interrupting, we prefer to go on trying, with hopeless bravado, to keep up our pretense.” -from page 25.

The author goes on to say the following:

“Reflect on this: The realization of impermanence is paradoxically the only thing we can hold onto, perhaps our only lasting possession. It is like the sky, or the earth. No matter how much everything around us may change or collapse, they endure. Say we go through a shattering emotional crisis . . . our whole life seems to be disintegrating . . . our husband or wife leaves us without warning. The earth is still there; the sky is still there. Of course, even the earth trembles now and again, just to remind us we cannot take anything for granted . . .” -from page 25 and 26.

So, what occurred before our very eyes last weekend that so profoundly affected us, as we sat at the breakfast table and chatted over our omelets and toast?

I was sitting and facing the backyard when I noticed a pair of crows doing a funny dance in the sky. They were twirling, diving and whipping about as if in the throes of a mating dance. This was my first exclamation as I pointed them out to Chuck: “Look at those dancing crows!” But there was something odd about them at the same time; they did not look really happy and I had never seen crows doing such antics. Normally they are very businesslike. They fly with purpose, heading directly to their intended destination with little fanfare or distraction. These crows were acting very strangely indeed.

We both got up from the table to watch more closely when I saw that they were not doing a mating dance to new life at all, but were in fact doing something more like a dance with death, for we saw that a huge hawk was sitting in the tree close to their nest and they were dive-bombing him, trying to scare him off. They were dealing with the true nature of reality: death comes to call; no one can escape it. They could not ignore this truth, but they could put up a valiant fight to save their young. And indeed they did. We watched as the crows repeatedly attacked the hawk, and eventually, scared it off the branch. Their fight continuing in the sky, they dove at it continually, cutting it with their wings, sending it spinning at one point and, eventually, the hawk flew off. I said to Chuck: “He’ll be back. He’s not going to give up. Just wait.”

The hawk came back

Perhaps an hour later I happened to look outside and saw that the hawk was indeed back, his head stuck inside the nest, pecking away. The crows were nowhere in sight, but I could hear their gentle keening coming from a distance, acquiescing to the inevitable. Death had come. They were accepting the impermanence of life, that change had come and they could not do anything to thwart it, their mournful cries marking this truth.

Chuck and I watched the hawk tearing at something under its claw, though even with binoculars it was difficult to see what it was; an egg or a baby crow we could not tell, but the truth was plain to see. Eventually the hawk flew off the branch and, as it did, the crows flew up out of hiding and, with one last cry of pain, attacked it again before it flew off for good. I expected the crows to return to the tree where their nest lay disturbed, but was surprised to see that they did not. “Wow,” I thought, “they really do accept the loss, they aren’t even looking back, just moving on.”

I don’t know what transpired after that, if they did in fact go back to see if anything had survived, but I think they already knew that nothing remained, that the hawk was just doing what he should do, what they in turn do to smaller birds; that it was just nature. But the sky was still there, as Sogyal Rinpoche writes, and they took off into it. The earth was still there too.

What is our life but a dance with death?

“What is our life but this dance of transient forms? Isn’t everything always changing: the leaves on the trees in the park, the light in your room as you read this, the seasons, the weather, the time of day, the people passing you in the street? And what about us? Doesn’t everything we have done in the past seem like a dream now?… We are impermanent, the influences are impermanent, and there is nothing solid or lasting anywhere that we can point to.” –The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying pages 26 and 27.

The only thing we can really count on is now, this moment, this breath we take, this truth that at this moment in our life we are alive. And then the next moment is upon us, even as we let the last one go. Each moment is as impermanent as the last.

Personally, I am awestruck by such acts of nature. They are always thrilling moments. I feel lucky to live where I do, that I can have such moments of brilliance in my life, that I am offered such grittiness to reflect on. I cannot say that I would be able to fly off as easily as those crows did, though eventually I get there. I know myself well enough now; that after many years of inner work I am fully capable of walking on into life without regret or sorrow. I know how to face new life, letting go of the past, though I have learned to appreciate that death, in its many forms, always accompanies me.

I don’t mean to be morbid, especially with so many experiences of life abounding now, each new spring day bringing nesting birds, emerging plants and flowers, the earth reawakening. But I cannot help but point out the truth that we are all impermanent, that we must all one day dance with death. We already do it all the time, in so many small ways.

We must learn to face our own deaths each day, preparing for it in our thoughts and actions, learning from the crows how to let go. We must also learn from the hawk that we too are capable of taking what we need to live; we too kill to survive. We must keep learning from the people in our lives how to face the transient nature of life, learning from them what the most important questions to keep asking are. We must all face the truths of our make-believe worlds and face the grittiest of the truths of reality. I am thankful for everyone who is a part of my life, even if only peripherally, for showing me that everything is meaningful and how important it is to keep working on the personal inner process.

As the seers of ancient Mexico are so fond of saying: I am a being who is going to die. The hawk and the dancing crows teach us this. Chuck and I learned this again last weekend as we watched this lesson play out in the sky. But, in the meantime, we intend to fully live, for we have so much to still learn.

Living fully, sending you all love and good wishes,
Jan

If you wish to correspond, please feel free to post a comment below. And don’t forget to check out our facebook page at: Riverwalker Press on facebook where we post comments, photos, and quotes.

Jan's Blog

A Day in a Life: Illusion or Not?

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I ponder the world as illusion. While channeling Jeanne’s message on Monday, I reached a personal moment of enlightenment when I grasped the idea that the inner world and the outer world are the same, that both are real and both are illusion. Carl Jung once noted that the inner world was as real or perhaps more real than the outer world. This has always been my experience, more of an inner world person than an outer world person. What I experienced in that moment of enlightenment on Monday was, from a shamanic point of view, a shift in the assemblage point, a shift in perception. This is when the world, as we know it, suddenly falls away and everything is seen and perceived differently. When this happens we are in another reality, “seeing” the world as it truly is, in shamanic terms, seeing the world as energy. So with that in mind, holding onto the idea that both worlds are real and illusory at the same time, I went into my week.

On Tuesday, I sat down to meditate in my favorite spot, looking out over the trees in the back yard. It was early morning; the sun was beginning to rise, battling the clouds for prominence. I wondered what the day would be like, rain or sun? I meditate with my eyes open. I softened my gaze as I did my breathing exercises, holding onto the out-breath ever so slightly in an attempt to linger a moment in emptiness and detach from thinking. Eventually, by focusing on slowly breathing in and out, I reached an in-between stage, where the outside world dissolved into a blurred picture and the inner world went quiet. This is a moment of shift in the assemblage point.

Sometimes I can stay suspended in this in-between space for a few seconds, sometimes longer. It’s as if my awareness is a thin sheet of glass, suspended between these two normal states of reality. I say thin, because invariably something will interfere to bring me back and then both the inner world of thought and the outer world of everyday reality come snapping back into sharp focus again. On Tuesday it was a flock of crows flying into the backyard that broke through the thin veneer of glass.

“Oh, here come the shamans, come to distract,” I thought. “Don’t attach.” And the glass immediately shattered as I watched the crows land in the trees right at eye level.

“Don’t attach,” I said again, softening my gaze. As I did so, I noticed that the crows literally dissolved as the glass pulled up between the two worlds again, which obviously was enough to pull me right back to thinking, to trying to grasp what I was experiencing. Of course, I wanted to check out if the crows were indeed still in the trees. So I looked directly at the treetops and yes, there were the crows sitting right where they had been.

“Okay,” I thought. “The crows are like these thoughts, flying into my mind and I must learn to let them go. I must learn to detach.” Again, I softened my gaze; focused on breathing, telling myself to let them fly past, just like the thoughts that were interfering.

“Even if those thoughts are attempting to grasp at this awakening experience I am having, it does not matter, let them go,” I said as I pushed everything away: thoughts, crows, trees, the inner and outer world.

“Just let it all go,” I whispered and, as the scenario played out, the thoughts flew away, the crows dissolved, and the thin sheet of shift, the glass, reappeared. I hung again in a moment of shift of the assemblage point, in inner silence, as the shamans call it, in nothingness, ever so briefly.

So, what did I learn during this experience? First of all, I experienced a volitional shift of the assemblage point, changing my perception of reality using a tried and true method: by meditation. Secondly, I saw the crows of thought and illusion dissolve into energy. If the crows are thoughts and thoughts belong to my inner world, I was able to underscore the moment of enlightenment I’d reached on Monday that the inner world and the outer world are both real and both illusion.

As I pondered this idea further, I thought about how thoughts are present only in the mind. In fact, they do not exist except in the mind, but they have the chance to become real when given form. In creative endeavors, as we paint, sculpt, dance, put them down in words and musical notes, as we write what we think, imagine, and discover, they manifest in this world of reality, no longer illusion but real. But until that manifestation they are illusion. These thoughts I now transcribe, though they existed in my mind, remained illusion until expressed in this form. They flew around in my head like those crows outside the window, seemingly real but not necessarily so, until this moment of landing, assembling into a long string of words that, hopefully, make sense.

I understand, in one sense, that my inner world, as real and important as it is to me, does not exist. And yet, I admit that it is extremely necessary, offering me the means to evolve, so I accept that my inner reality does exist. Even those very real crows existed one moment, but in the next dissolved, as I shifted my assemblage point so that the world of normal perception, reality, ceased to exist. At the same time, however, both the inner world and the outer world do exist; they are notches on the assemblage point. They are equally real, but equally illusion. But the thing to note is that our true awareness lies somewhere between or beyond those worlds, in the silence of that veneer of glass that is so hard to stay in. Does this make sense?

What I am getting at is that we all have these experiences. Our thoughts are simply thoughts, non-existent, present as energy inside us. If we can view them as such, we may be able to understand the idea of everything as illusion, but also as energy. When we hone that energy into something else, our thoughts become something different. They become tangible, expressed in forms that others can grasp, our personal experiences of illusion, of inner energy manifested.

Can we see the outside world in similar terms? The shamans say that our conjuring minds are responsible for the world of reality. We are taught from birth to see the world in a fixed position, and yet we all have had experiences of shifts in reality at some time or other in our lives, as Jeanne asked us to note in her message the other day. If thoughts are illusion, conjured by our mind, made manifest in the outer world, is not then the world of reality, conjured by this same universal mind, illusion as well? If everything we experience as reality at one time existed as thought, it stands that it can also dissolve back into its original energy form of thought, and thus, illusion.

As I sat and played with this idea the other day, dissolving the crows out of the trees one minute and placing them back in the trees the next I got it again, just how illusory the world is. My thoughts are nothing, the crows are nothing, I am nothing, but we are all energy. If we can hang just a little bit longer in that thin slip of world between the two illusions we may experience this sense of self as energy.

And why would we do this? As we shift our assemblage point, as we see differently, as our worlds dissolve, as we hold onto our awareness, we begin to train ourselves for the moment of death. This is what the Buddhists do, what the shamans do; they train their awareness for the moment of death. They learn how to hold onto awareness, how to stay connected to awareness of the self as energy so that, at the moment of death, they do not get caught in the illusions. They seek to hone the skills of awareness, so that they do not get caught in grasping, needing, desiring, in sadness or yearning for this world, which they have learned is but illusion.

According to these ancient disciplines, of Buddhism and shamanism, this is what we are here to learn. We are here to free ourselves from the endless cycles of being caught in the illusion that this is all there is. We are offered, with each new life, the opportunity to experience the moments of awakening to our true nature as energetic beings. This is what Jeanne was describing and asking us to note in her message.

Take note of the moments when the illusions of reality disappear, those aha moments when we experience life differently. These are the moments to keep striving for, to string together, until we fully grasp their significance and can volitionally return to them again and again. We must seek the space of thin veneer between worlds and thicken it so that we can stay in it longer. We must seek our true awareness and set it free in that in-between place; because that is what we will need to recall and hold onto at the moment of death.

The cool thing is that we are offered plenty of those moments of enlightenment now, in our present lives, in our present worlds. Try it. It’s fun!

Thanks for reading and passing these blogs on to others! Sending you all love and good wishes.

In awareness,
Jan

If you wish to correspond, please feel free to post a comment below. And don’t forget to check out our facebook page at: Riverwalker Press on facebook where we post daily comments and quotes.

Messages from Jeanne

#751 We Are All Responsible

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Written by Jan Ketchel and including a channeled message from Jeanne Ketchel.

It’s early Sunday morning as I write this. Chuck woke me as dawn was breaking and I got up to see the first orange sweep of the rising sun in the East and the luminous globe of the enormous “supermoon” setting through the trees in the West. The birds were already stirring and, as we sat by the woodstove and looked out the windows to the South, I saw deer grazing in the field across the road while the robins swept across the front yard, as they worked on nest building, and the squirrels ran around gathering edibles; nature awakening and going about the natural course of things. I could not help but think about what nature had enacted on the other side of the world: devastation and continued danger of high radiation in Japan, as well as the energy of revolution continually escalating in the Middle East.

Here I sit, I thought, quite happy and contented, my world in order, nature doing what nature does. It goes on as it has every spring, nesting, preparing for new life, the crocuses and daffodils emerging from the frozen ground, the sun warming the earth and, yet, I cannot forget what has been happening in our world.

Already a little more than a week has passed since the earthquake and tsunami in Japan rocked our world and we all felt the reverberations in some way. There are people who choose not to attach any importance to events taking place so far away, however, who choose not to know, who feel detached and unaffected, simply because they are not personally effected by something happening in a foreign country. The media has already gone on to new news, for the most part; the Libyan conflict—revolution equally important—now taking the headlines again.

It is appropriate that we not turn from the truth of the revolutions taking place in our world, yet I fear the nuclear disaster in Japan will be swept from our knowing, suppressed, covered in lies. We will be told again and again that there is no immediate human health danger to be concerned about, until we accept it as truth and return to our old ways. Meanwhile radiation has been released into the atmosphere, it is in cow’s milk and green leafy foods in Japan, and it is being washed into the oceans and carried on the winds. Yet we are lied to in order to keep down the panic.

Panic is necessary now. This is the time of revolution, after all. We must not listen to the voices that tell us to “go shopping” as President Bush did after 9/11, or the Japanese authorities who say they have everything under control and that there is really nothing to worry about, while at the same time radiation is spreading. In the face of the truth they blatantly lie, expecting us to acquiesce to the lies as we have always done in the past. It is not time to pull back into secrecy but to keep exposing the lies along with the real truths of what man has done to our world, to Mother Earth.

And yet, I know that inner calm is utterly necessary at times like this, that the truth must be balanced with inner pragmatism while we look deeply within and search for the true path for man to take, now more than ever. As I look upon nature itself on this beautiful morning, I receive one answer by its example. Nature tells me that life does indeed go on.

This is nature at its best, just as destruction, misery, and suffering are nature at its best. There must be death for there to be new life. Can I accept that what is happening is right for our times? Can I accept the release of radiation, the revolutions, the deaths in so many forms as right, knowing that it is forcing us to a new evolutionary possibility, for mankind to do more than just survive what he himself has wrought? This is nature in true balance. Can I be in alignment with this side of nature too?

I ask you today, Jeanne, to lead us now to a new level of understanding and consideration, as we take in the truth of what is happening, for I fear that the media will be moving on to the next crisis in the world, leaving the smoldering mess of contamination in Japan to “the experts,” while the planet suffers, and each one of us too. While baby dolphins die as a result of last year’s fiasco in the Gulf of Mexico and the fish in the Hudson River contend with heavy PCB contamination, while nature pushes us to remember, we move on so easily to the next big news item, forgetting that we too are nature.

What can we do to stay bound to the truth now? It is time to stay connected to what we have forgotten, that decay is necessary, as well as new life. I must remember, while I watch the birds building their nests, that in the woods lies the carcass of an enormous deer, rotting, its rib cage bleaching white in the sun, picked clean by scavengers. I must remember this balance in nature and be honest with myself about death.

Can you talk today about making personal choices now, as the attention to recent disasters shifts and the status quo reasserts itself, as we get back to business as usual, as I see reflected in nature on this early morning? Because that is the other truth: life does go on.

Here is Jeanne’s response to my questions:

I ask you to enjoy your moments of bliss and delight, yet maintain awareness of death, for it is true that they go hand-in-hand. But do not either forget that they are not separate activities, opposites perhaps, but in concert nonetheless, for you cannot have one without the other. This Jan points out, and yet it is what is most often forgotten as one goes about “business as usual.”

There can no longer be business as usual. You, My Dear Readers and Journeyers, if you are to be the new generation of seers upon that earth, must never return to complacency and business as usual. It is time now to remain awake, alert to the realities of your world as you have made it. You may say that this had been done by others, that you have no skills in the development of nuclear science, that you have no dispute in the war zones, but that is not so: You are all responsible.

I charge each one of you with the responsibility for your world and until you accept this responsibility you will not be a true citizen of change, nor hold the seers potential in right alignment with its proper meaning or intent.

I ask that there be no stopping the human potential to realign with nature, to rebalance with nature’s intent, for in order to evolve and come into alignment, mankind, all humanity, must react as ferociously as Mother Nature does. I do not advocate destruction without—except in the form of change—by making decisions that will be revolutionary in enacting personal and worldwide change.

Do what is right for the planet and you will do what is right for all living things. Nature goes about her business, but do not think it is business as usual, for nature contends each moment of each day with change. Nature must adapt to herself and to what man had done to her air, her waters, her soils, her growing flowers and fruits, to her creatures, and yet she does not stop. Her energy is as powerful as ever. Nature does not sleep, except to rejuvenate herself, and this is what man must learn to do as well.

Man must learn to rejuvenate his energy, so that his natural power is ready each moment of each day. If a bird falls asleep in the middle of the day it will not be in alignment with nature. If the birds all slept, instead of doing what they must to live, the balance of all nature would suffer.

Man sleeps too often when he should be awake. It is time now to shift to a more natural alignment with nature, with the rising sun and the setting sun. Learn now to work in the proper moment, to rest in the proper moment, and to act according to the laws of nature in the proper moment, all of which can only be accessed if in alignment with all things.

Accept the truths of life and death as intertwined. One without the other leads to chaos and this is where mankind, especially in the West, has faltered. He has chosen only to live. He has chosen to forget about death and thus he has created an impossible situation.

An earthquake is only the beginning of his shake up, for mankind needs to be reminded of the basic truths of his reason for being upon that earth. And what is that?

Man is a sentient being. This means he is, in truth, a spiritual presence and not a conquering presence. Man has sought to conquer nature, forgetting his spiritual self, as he sought only to feed his ego self. Now man is asked, by nature herself, to return to his sentient roots, in alignment with nature, and learn once again what nature offers: the true lessons in evolutionary growth.

Look now for personal inner balance. Seek a place of calm observation while awake and rejuvenating energy replenishment while asleep. Restore first that balance, the sleeping-waking cycles, as nature does, and you will begin to realign with man’s true intent. When in balance, you will find that you each have within you the answers you seek.

Take responsibility for the self and you take responsibility for the entire world. Remain alert to the moment, to the energy of the moment. And do not forget that in order for life, including your own, to evolve, there will be destruction and death. It is necessary and unavoidable.

A seer knows this at all times. A seer seeks balance at all times by remaining aware of his death, just as the birds and other animals do. Their instinct is strong. They know how to live and they know how to die, with dignity, in proper alignment with nature, constantly adjusting to what life presents, respectful of all other life, always on the move in natural consort/concert with evolutionary energy.

In ending, I suggest that each one of you look upon your own life, your habits, and correct your misalignment with nature as much as you can, just as you expect the rest of the world to do. And then see what happens!

Thank you Jeanne. Please feel free to post comments or respond to this message in the post/read comments section below. Also check out our facebook page at: Riverwalker Press on facebook. And thank you for passing the messages on!

Most fondly and humbly offered.

Jan's Blog

A Day in a Life: On the Wings of the Crow

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I dreamed all night, chasing after a fearful Spunky the dog, as she fled from room to room, terrified, unable to settle down. I agonized over her process, as I followed after, wanting her to have calm contentment, to be given respect and quiet, but there was too much stress around her and in my dream she just could not settle down. Then, I heard a voice say: Don’t worry, you’ve all done this so many times before, over many lifetimes, you just have to remember. Now, as I dreamed through the rest of the night, still following our dog from room to room, this voiceover continued to speak the same sentence until I woke in the morning with it still ringing in my ears.

The next day was the day we had arranged for the vet to come to the house to euthanize Spunky. She was in her eighteenth year and by the beginning of the week we saw the clear signs that her end was near. She became increasingly incontinent and could not get up by herself. Once up it was agonizing to watch her try to lie back down as she circled and circled and then slowly plunked to the floor with a deep groan. We saw her fear of falling on the ice and snow escalate as she refused to go outside, standing at the door and then turning away. We dealt with the soiling and daily cleaning of her bedding, giving what little we could to this most noble soul in her final days. And finally, as she slept in deep comalike states for most of the day, we acquiesced to the truth of her journey’s end here on earth. It was not fair to keep her in this world any longer. She was in pain, and her quality of life was greatly compromised. We noticed that her nose was still in good form though; sniffing out tempting odors from the kitchen still her greatest pleasure.

In contrast to my busy night of dream worry, the day dawned quiet and calm. Spunky, fully aware of the significance of the day, as she had been all week it seemed, continued to let us know, by her deteriorating condition, that we were making the right decision for her. We were determined that her last day with us, and her passing, be as stress-free as possible under the circumstances, and this became the central intent of the day.

The information I had received in my dream the night before stayed with me from the moment I woke up. I knew it was significant, though I had yet to fully grasp its meaning. Don’t worry, you’ve all done this so many times before, over many lifetimes, you just have to remember. I told Chuck about my night of dreams with Spunky, about my worry that she would be frightened and anxious. We had already decided which room we wanted her last moments to be lived in, but after my dreams I decided that we should prepare appropriate bedding throughout the house and let her choose where she wished to recline. With that in mind we spent the morning hours quietly making preparations while she slept in our bedroom.

Spunky was Chuck and Jeanne’s dog, and their children’s pet, before she came into my life. In my imagination I see her following Jeanne around as she tended to follow me around, sitting at my feet while I worked, her herding instinct keeping track of all activity, making sure everyone was in view. The first time I met her I was sitting on a small wicker sofa in the sunroom when Spunky wandered over to me. Jumping up, she squeezed her big body next to me on the tiny sofa and lay down, gently putting her head in my lap. Chuck, greatly surprised, exclaimed: “She’s never done that—not to anyone!” We sat like that for a long time, quietly taking in each other’s calm energy. I felt completely welcomed and clearly accepted by this big dog, totally compatible.

Chuck’s daughter, away at school and unable to be here with Spunky on her last day, had sent us an email to read to her dear doggie, thanking her for the long life they had experienced together as sisters and best friends. As Chuck sat next to her and read Erica’s words, Spunky put out her paw, laying it on the printed sheet of paper, acknowledging the sweet truths and, then, when she had heard enough, she shifted away, grunted, as if to say, “Stop now, I’m done.” This was also Spunky, as unsentimental as they come; she’d heard enough. She was always open to a good cuddle but she’d just as easily push you away when she was done. This is what we felt she was telling us now, I’m done with this life; let me be free to go on. I feel privileged to have shared many experiences with Spunky, and to have known this most amazing dog.

The vet was due to come in the afternoon. We lit candles and sat down in the living room, where I had set up a nice bed for Spunky, just where we wanted her to lie, beneath the Buddha, but it was still going to be her choice. It was then we heard her trying to get up in the other room. Of course it was her nose that roused her, as we had just made some lunch. We helped her up and watched as she hobbled out to the living room, ready for a tasty treat. It was then that she saw the comfy bed I had prepared for her, actually in one of her favorite spots and, just as we would have wished, she went right over to it and lay down.

Chuck and I sat down again, ate our lunch, intending to sit with Spunky over the next hour as we waited for the vet. Sadness began to seep into the room as we reminisced about her. I picked up a book to read and Chuck, feeling restless and in need of some guidance, got up and went into the other room in search of reading material. He came back with The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying in hand. He said his hands just reached for it, his intent to shift the mood guiding him. Opening the book at random, he began to read about bringing appropriate energy to the bedside of the dying. He read that for life to go on without attachment, it is best not to bring sorrow and tears to the bedside of the dying, only joy and good thoughts for a calm journey of awareness, so that the dying one does not feel drawn to stay connected to anything on earth, thus interfering with their journey. This was just what we needed. It gave us the appropriate attitude, exactly the shift we needed to bring us to clear knowing of what we wanted for this lovely dog. We wanted her to be set free to go on her own journey. We did not feel it was appropriate to be sad for her. Her life had been long and fulfilling and we could not hold her back from the next leg of it. It was not our place to feel sadness, only joy and release felt right.

Once again, the voice from my dream came to mind. Don’t worry, you’ve all done this so many times before, over many lifetimes, you just have to remember. Now this phrase made sense to me. As we sat there peacefully, with a very calm and contented dog, I noticed her glancing at us every now and then, as if to say: “Yes, this is right, this is how it should be.” And I felt as if I had done this many times before, indeed, sat by a dying one, knowing exactly what they needed. The fact that Chuck let himself be led to that specific book was part of this knowing. We just had to remember, which was exactly the feeling we had as soon as he read aloud the words that were so appropriate. Oh, yes, that is how we are supposed to act on this most momentous day. We are merely here to assist the dying one with our good thoughts. We are here to send her on her joyous journey. Now we were at peace, all three of us, as we sat together and waited.

When the vet arrived Spunky greeted her with two loud barks. Her back legs now useless, unable to get up, she lay her head back down and waited. It was time and she was ready. Our hands on her at the last moment, I felt her energy leave so easily, so lightly. She was gone with a poof of happy release, without sentiment, off on her journey.

Afterwards, as Chuck and I sat in the empty living room, we felt her absence, but at the same time that her life had been fulfilled. We knew she did not need to hold onto anything here, it was as it should be. Again I was struck that we did indeed know this to be true, and that it was true for all of us. Our time was done when it was done; it was fulfilled. Don’t worry, you’ve all done this so many times before, over many lifetimes, you just have to remember.

I suddenly heard the loud cawing of a crow. It was so loud that I got up and went to the window. And there I saw a giant blue-black crow, sweeping back and forth across the front yard, over the roof of the house and back over the yard again, cawing ever louder. “She’s off on her journey,” I said, as the crow swept past the window one last time, its feathers shiny, glistening in the sunlight. It flew directly south, taking Spunky’s energy. On the wings of the crow, she continues her journey.

If you wish, feel free to share or comment in the Post Comment section below.

Thanks for reading and passing these blogs on to others! Sending you all love and good wishes,
Jan

Chuck's Blog

Chuck’s Place: There Are No Advantages or Disadvantages

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From the perspective of the seers of ancient Mexico, we are all equal. Regardless of wealth, status, privilege, health, genes, family; we all face the same ultimate adversary: DEATH! Seers choose to face this truth directly; hence, they focus all their energy on preparing for this inevitable encounter.

The seers teach gazing at and breathing in the sun’s powerful rays, while protectively shielding the eyes from direct contact with the sun, to become energized. Similarly, yogis teach breathing in prana, vital energy from the sun for the same reason. Wherever we are, on a beach in Tahiti or a prison cell at Attica, the sun shines equally upon us all. We can choose to be present and soak in the sun’s energy.

In this moment, pause, look for the light. Is it refracted on a wall or perhaps emanating from a bare lightbulb? Focus on it; soften your gaze, and breath in the energy of the light. No light? Visualize the sun in your imagination and breathe in its energy. There are no advantages or disadvantages.

We might pine to live in a different home, with different people, in a quieter place. Yet, if we find our home on a sidewalk square on the streets of Calcutta, with no other option, we are afforded equal opportunity to focus our awareness on releasing our abdomen and breathing in deeply the prana in the air that surrounds us.

As I sit and write, my senses are assaulted by loud vibrating machines interspersed with thundering hammers. “More good news to break up my meditation?” states an old reggae song, or are these noises promptings to lose my self-importance—it’s not about me. Why spend my vital energy on resistance and resentment? No matter what environment you find yourself in at this moment there is likely something that feels offensive. Do we attach to feeling offended, disempowered and resentful, or do we liberate ourselves by storing our energy and learning to go with the flow?

Our Western world is measured by progress. Where am I in relation to my ideal job, educational goals, financial dreams, family plan? Of course, it makes sense to immerse ourselves in all these goals, but we do well to realize that it’s all really just playing house. In the final analysis, it’s not about how well we’ve lived or loved, it’s how prepared we are for our ultimate encounter with death.

The seers suggest that we indeed immerse ourselves fully in our chosen lives—to be impeccable in fully living them. They call this the Art of Stalking. For them, stalking is the acknowledgment that you can be fully present and alive in your life, in fact, any life, but at any moment that life will completely dissolve, and it’s on to the next adventure.

Are we prepared to open up to this adventure, or do we cling stubbornly to this world demanding to reincarnate? Stalking means living fully, impeccably, yet with no illusion of permanence. To forget that we are all mere stalkers of lives upon this earth, to attach to the notion of creating something lasting, is to take the eye off the ball of our true destiny: one of inevitable, complete, and total change.

Fulfillment, in this life, is about fully opening to experiencing all that we fear in the lives we have chosen to stalk. This might mean to face and depotentiate our deepest hidden truths; to laugh at ourselves; to drop our protective shields and open fully to deep love, to sexual ecstasy, to deep pain and sorrow; to full breath; to energetic life beyond the body; to utter calm. These are the potentials of human experience that challenge us to become fluid, to let go with abandon, to fully prepare for the final leap beyond death’s door. These experiences are available to everyone.

Remember, there are no advantages or disadvantages. We all face the identical door. We all have our individual appointment with death. We all have, within ourselves and the lives we are in, all that is needed to prepare to successfully move into new life.

Take advantage of your opportunity, available to all, to breathe and take in the energy of the light.

If you wish to correspond, please feel free to post a comment below.

Until we meet again,
Chuck