We make the decision to change and then we must face the challenges of having made that decision, each day, as the old world seeks us out and attempts to draw us back into our old comforts. With the advent of the year 2012 many people are suddenly aware of change. However, such change was intended long ago, set in motion and already in full swing before most of us were aware of it.
We too set our own intentions, activate change by our thoughts and desires, often unaware that we are doing so. Life itself has its own agenda, nature taking us all on a journey of change that we might only contemplate when we are older and ready to face the inevitable.
I believe that all of us who are alive now have been participating in a transformative energy our whole lives. Why are we suddenly so enamored, so struck, so frightened of this transformative energy?
I personally experience this energy as powerful yet also as subtle. This energy is confrontational though it also gently moves us along in the direction we need to go in. This energy asks us all to change and to face the fact that we are helpless in its wake.
Every day we are challenged to lose our self-importance, to embrace a larger world view with compassion and genuine love for all beings. At the same time we are asked, by the energy of now alone, to simplify our lives so that rather than contribute to a crumbling world we acquiesce to the truth of it. In a very grassroots way, we are asked to support a new world based on honesty, integrity, openness, compassion, and kindness across the board.
The Internet alone has expanded our views, introducing us to a far greater sense of the beauty and intelligence of ourselves as a species, as well as the ignorance and ugliness of our species as well. We are all part of this expanded view that the Internet affords us. We are all intelligent and ignorant, beautiful and ugly. We are all struggling to understand the meaning of our existence and the reason for our frailties. And we are all responsible for somehow finding a balance so that we, as human beings and the earth itself, may align in creating a far greater world. All struggles are valid, all actions necessary if change is to happen.
The energy of human progress constantly takes us outside of ourselves. As we face another day of challenge and conflict in the world around us, we must not forget that there is another world that constantly challenges and calls to us as well: the inner world.
On this day, as our Internet freedoms are challenged and their restrictions protested, as Wikipedia and many other sites go black, I will be in a most unique and humble position, attending a most natural part of our existence: death.
I will turn away from what is happening in the world to sit beside an elderly relative who is facing the end of her life. I will turn toward the timelessness of all life, the inevitability of nature to take us where we all must go. I will face the ultimate truth: We are all going to die. I am going to die. You are going to die.
I don’t mean to be morbid, but I also know I cannot stop what is natural. The intent that we must all change was set long ago; before we even existed we knew that one day we would die. There comes a point when we will all be challenged to face the inevitable. We must learn now, while we are alive and well, how to acquiesce and go with the flow, with awareness.
I see the little and big changes that we must face every day as no different from death. They are teaching us how to face death when it comes. Every day, as we are challenged to keep pushing ourselves to grow, to move into new lives as our circumstances change and our spirits push us, we are preparing ourselves to face our deaths.
If we see each moment of change as a little death we prepare ourselves for our final death. We learn what it means to be aware, what it means to acquiesce, what it means to go with the flow, and our fears of death diminish, for we have practiced for it our whole lives. When we are able to face death as just another moment of change into new life, when we accept the inevitability of both death and new life, we have indeed transformed. You see, important times of transformation don’t have to wait, we can experience them every day, as we challenge ourselves to constantly grow and change.
I am grateful for the position I find myself in today. And, as the shamans of Carlos Castaneda’s line say: I am a being who is going to die.
“I am here,” I say. “I am here in this body, in this moment.”
“I am me,” I say. “I am me in this body.”
“I am this body,” I say. “I live here on earth in this body.”
“I am here,” I say. “I am me.”
I am present in this moment...
As I move and breathe, I bring my attention back again and again to the moment, to being present in my body. I thank myself for giving myself this healing time and I thank the universe for providing the paths I took to get to this moment of this day. I take each moment as sacred, as ritual.
I take a moment to write down my thoughts of awareness of being, of being in my body, of being in the moment of doing yoga somewhere in the world, a small speck of awareness in the universe, one small speck of knowing that I am alive, intent on being fully present in my body.
Sometimes I am pretty aware of being present in my body, but most often I am not. Most often I am somewhere else, my body along for the ride. But in this moment, I am aware that my body is my natural environment, my beingness resides in it and depends on it, needs it, trusts it. I am in the moment, present and enjoying the rituals of doing yoga, of breathing, and of being consciously aware.
Ritual of Fire
After I do yoga, I carry the wood from the woodpile. I build a fire and light it, another ritual. I am aware that this is a ritual performed by millions of others. Since fire became a part of human life this ritual has been important. As I carry out the steps of making my fire, I am aware that I am partaking in an ancient practice of firemaking for the same reasons that eons of people have made fires. I do not cook over my fire, but I seek warmth. I am part of an ancient ritual today as I make my fire. I honor the ritual and I honor myself in the process of partaking in this ritual. I honor all who have done this before me.
I take time to notice that I am present. I am me. I am in my body, present in this moment doing this ritual. In the next moment the fire is burning well. I can turn to other things now, back to my writing, back to preparing for other rituals that come throughout the day, if I care to see them as such.
I remind myself to slow down and take the time to feel myself in my body often throughout the day, present in the moment and in my awareness of being, as often as possible. I remind myself to remain aware that my daily activities and chores are part of my ritual life too.
Honor and create ritual
I remind myself to invent new rituals as I go along, making life sacred, simply because it is and it deserves to be lived in sacred fashion. I deserve it, the earth deserves it, all creatures—man included—deserve the honor of sacred ritual. If we all slowed down and made our personal lives sacred rituals, if we all invented our own personal rituals—honoring and thanking ourselves, our bodies, others in our lives, the universe—perhaps we’d end up with enough pauses full of calmness and peace to temper the otherwise busy and fast-paced world we live in.
When we slow down enough we realize we don’t really need that fast-paced world. We discover we don’t really want to live like that. When we slow down we discover that we, by our very animal nature, are more connected to the earth and the sacred ritual of a simple life than we realized. When we slow down we walk and breathe the pulse of the earth and it calms us and nurtures us beyond anything else we might have available.
We desire our vacations by the ocean, a lake, in the calmness of the mountains or meadows because we are animals who crave nature’s slow pace and the beat of our heart knows this. By establishing our personal rituals we automatically slow to the beat of our heart, and automatically our perception of our personal place in the world shifts too. We actually become one with nature, connected and aware of being in the moment, in our bodies, in the right place: in total beingness.
The Sacred Beat of Nature
No matter what is going on around us or inside us, when we slow everything down and take a sacred moment we are at peace. Even if only for a moment, it is enough.
Tomorrow I will build a different fire, but the ritual, the process, will have the same ancient energy in it. Whether I focus on the ritual of it or not, whether I am as aware as I am today, I will still be tapping into the energy of ancient ritual. I know this energy of infinity, as ancient as the tapping of my own heartbeat. It is as ancient as the tapping of your own heartbeat, one pulse, beating for eternity. The ritual is already present. We just have to make ourselves available to it and tap into it.
As humans we have so much available to us. Our creative energy begs us to pause and pay attention to its insistence that we are not so modern as we might believe. We are ancient energy and we know instinctively how to connect with it and what to do with it.
Find sacred ritual in life, in nature, in self. Be in the moment. Be present in the body self. Breathe with awareness. That too is ritual. Be thankful to the self and the universe and then pause and listen to its reply. In the calm beat of your own heart you will hear its resonant beat.
Present in the moment, in calmness, in beingness,
Jan
We can learn a lot from studying the trees. During her recapitulation, Taisha Abelar, a cohort of Carlos Castaneda’s, lived for a time in a tree. She’d never climbed a tree in her life when she began but by the time six months had passed she’d recapitulated through many dark nights in the tree house she slept in. Over that time she had absorbed so much of tree life that she could communicate with trees directly. She learned to be silent enough to sense their needs, to know their pain, and to communicate with them through feeling. But she also found herself freed of her traumatic past.
“As I was seated on a sturdy limb with my back resting on the tree trunk, my recapitulation took on an altogether different mood,” she writes in The Sorcerers’ Crossing. “I could remember the minutest details of my life experiences without fear of any coarse emotional involvement. I could laugh my head off at things that at one time had been deep traumas for me. I found my obsessions no longer capable of evoking self-pity. I saw everything from a different perspective, not as the urbanite I had always been, but as the carefree and abandoned tree dweller that I had become.”
During the recent early winter storm, I thought a lot about the trees. As I watched them bear the brunt of the snow and the wind, I saw the parallel between learning to become like a tree, withstanding the beauty and fury of nature, and doing a recapitulation.
Trees are rooted, unable to move from their designated spots. Forced to withstand constant exposure they must be strong enough to survive yet weak enough to bend in the breeze. From the heights of the highest branches we can gain a new perspective on life and the world around us. Offering us the opportunity to gain new insights and clarity, they also offer us deep grounding. The deeper the root system, the better the connection to the life force of Mother Earth.
Trees are silent beings, observers of life, pensive and heavy, yet they jostle and sway, tossing lightly and gaily in the wind. They lose branches in storms. They topple over when their time is done and return to the earth from which they once sprang. They know the course of their lives, having lived them many times. Upon their demise, springing up again from their deepest roots or previously dropped seeds, they are ready to take on life anew. Most meaningful to us is that they give us the oxygen we need in order to breathe and live on this planet, thus their lives are more than meaningful, for they support all human life.
We too must learn to become like the trees as we recapitulate. We must learn how to stand our ground, our roots firmly sunk in the nurturing earth while at the same time we withstand the onslaughts of the past. Steady and balanced in two worlds—roots in the earth and branches reaching for the heavens—we too are capable of withstanding the onslaughts of the seasons of our lives. Whether we recapitulate a fine memory, a delightful memory, or a horrific memory too distasteful to speak of, we can learn from the trees how to handle what comes to greet us in recapitulation.
During the recent storm, I noticed the trees in my yard standing silently, accepting the unusually early snowstorm. I saw them bear the weight of the unexpected snow cover. I saw them bowing down under the weight of the heavy attack from outside, their leaves unsuspecting collaborators. I saw them bear the tension, until it was time to let go because they could no longer hold back what had been imposed on them. I heard the breaking of limbs, leafy branches that had no recourse but to snap.
I saw all of this and said to myself: This is like recapitulation. During recapitulation we are not in control, yet we strive to control in the old ways that worked for us. But during recapitulation we are often confronted with things that we just cannot control, things that come at us out of nowhere like this autumn winter. We too have no recourse then but to snap beneath the weight of the onslaught and allow what falls from us to be strewn at our feet. We too, like the trees, can look down and see our branches of self—parts of ourselves that we thought we needed to hold onto—and realize that they now lie at our feet and yet we still stand.
During the storm cleanup we can look back and wonder: Did we really need to hold onto those parts we once thought so dear? Without them we feel lighter, freer, our branches now able to lift higher than before. Freed of the burden of trauma, of the accumulation of old ideas, misconceptions, and old perceptions of the self, we are like the trees, able to experience ourselves in a new way, just as Taisha once did. No longer attached to the past in the same way we find that, having recapitulated, we are totally different beings.
There are sturdy and tall trees, oaks and maples, and yet there are supple and easily swayed trees that survive just as long, that have the ability to spring back to life no matter what occurs. In recapitulation, is it better to be so strong that our branches continually snap and break off until we are limbless? Or is it better to sway in the breeze of our recapitulation, knowing that we are firmly rooted, connected to the life force of all things, certain that new life awaits? At some point in our recapitulations we must all consider how we are going to proceed on our life’s journey. What kind of tree are we going to be?
Indeed we can and should study the trees. In their silence alone they offer so much for our consideration. Just contemplating the fact that we could not survive on this planet without them may be enough of a start. I hold trees in the highest regard and I am thankful for them. With great respect, at each breath I take, I am humbled to share the planet with them.
Written by Jan Ketchel with a channeled message from Jeanne Ketchel.
The day after Hurricane Irene tramped through the Northeast, downgraded to a tropical storm by the time it got to us, dawns calm and sunny. We fared better than expected. All of the many ponds along our rural road overflowed and we were landlocked for most of the day on our mountaintop. But we didn’t lose power as our neighbors down the road did nor did we lose any trees. We still have internet service so I can send out this blog, and although the road to civilization is still flooded at one end we can wind our way to the main highway in the other direction. The freakiest part of the storm, for me, came last evening—after the rains had stopped—when a barrage of powerful wind gusts plowed through here, lasting for several hours, ominous and fierce in intensity. That’s when the trees came down at the other end of the road and our neighbors lost power. It was as if nature was warning us to not fall back into complacency, suggesting that yes, we had indeed gotten off the hook this time, but don’t take it too lightly. Perhaps this storm was all just preparation for the bigger ones to come.
From one end...
In the midst of the fury of those intensely battering gusts an enormous double rainbow spanned the sky. From the field across the road we gathered with neighbors to take in the full breadth of this wondrous spectacle of nature—just another reminder that we really have no control over what happens in the world outside of us. I took the rainbow as a sign to just keep hanging in there, stay with the awe of what life offers, ominous and wondrous both, and that everything will be fine in the end.
As I write this morning, I am reminded of two things related to the storm and to channeling these messages from Jeanne. Chuck and I spoke of these two things as we went through the lashing of Irene. Several years ago, perhaps as far back as 2005, Jeanne had warned of big changes to come, that weather related and natural events would be the changing factor in our world—not only changing the coastline and the shape of the world as we know it but the entire deeper makeup of it as well. She warned us to be prepared for this.
We actually felt lucky yesterday that we had already been hit badly last fall when a tornado came through in the middle of the night and took down our tall pines. Our house sustained damage then, our yard was ripped apart, but we’ve had so many windstorms since then and each time we breathe a sigh of relief that those tall trees that we so admired and appreciated no longer sway over our heads.
The other thing that kept popping up yesterday was Jeanne’s constant reminder that everything will be fine, that it will work out the way it’s supposed to, that in the end we will discover that we are exactly where we should be.
...to the middle...
Jeanne is fond of reminding us often that if we can learn to flow with what comes to challenge us we’ll have an easier ride and perhaps we’ll be able to notice the signs of the inevitable change, as well as the moments of awe and transformation a lot sooner too. This is true in everyday life as well as when doing recapitulation. I have found Jeanne’s words both comforting and reassuring no matter where I am in my life. Yesterday, as we repeated them often throughout the day, they once again guided us to flow through the storm, prepared but available to accept the inevitability of it.
Jeanne always suggested that we’d have an easier ride through life if we made the decision to acquiesce to the inevitable rather than fight it. Fighting takes a lot of energy and in the end we discover that it is fairly wasted as we end up having to let go anyway. We end up in the same place whether we resist or flow. The choice, however, remains in our hands.
Today, I am accepting of this changing world, both the outer world and my inner world, as I expect myself to acquiesce to the constant challenges of both of those worlds. I awaken healthy, thankful, respectful of nature and where we are today, as I ask Jeanne for a message as we begin this week.
What does it mean that we have gone through such a storm? What is the real significance, on a spiritual level and in general? Each one of us may have to face our personal truths regarding it, but, on a broader scale, how can we understand the meaning of it? What is the universe trying to tell us now?
Here is Jeanne’s response.
There is little to worry about as a new day dawns, except to pick up the pieces, salvaging that which is usable but in the interim learn what it means to let go. Even as you collect your old stuff around you, realize that in some way you were forced to let go of something. Learn to release attachments to old things and old ways and move on in life without regret. One can choose to travel lightly and with relative ease, moving always forward, or one can choose to travel heavily overburdened without a goal or deeper perspective. How one views and deals with natural and other disasters is always a choice.
As a new day dawns, I suggest that your same inner issues remain, though you may have gained some insight regarding the self after having encountered the fury of nature. In retrospect, investigate the self. Find the inner response, today’s response, and work with that. How can you change as a result of what you have both innerly and outerly just encountered or suffered through?
...to the other end.
Each moment of turmoil and suffering points the self in a new direction, offering an opportunity to change. How can you change now? How can you personally change? Many things are shown, presented and offered to you during the brewing, unleashing, and dying down of a natural disaster. Take it personally, as a personal message, as an offering in how to do inner work. Reflect on the self.
Yes, the natural world is rapidly changing and shifting. This you must all note. The natural world is showing you how to evolve. Can you choose personal evolution in keeping with that outer world? That’s the way to go.
Change is necessary now on all levels of society. I urge all of you to remain alert, aware of the necessity for drastic change in your world. Be daring enough to continue pushing the self to go beyond this moment. Each confrontation with the fears that reside inside means you are evolving.
I am with you all. You are not alone.
Choose to be open to change and you will fare well. Choose to fight it and you may suffer greatly, unduly so. You will end up in the same place anyway—evolved—though in the long run perhaps having learned a lesson very well that you did indeed need to learn in such a way. If constantly fighting the spirit’s call to change you may miss the evolutionary moments though—those grand moments of awe. With alertness and good preparation, in doing constant inner work, as you use the outer world as reflection, you all have the opportunity to evolve with awareness. Frightening as it may seem, you are all on a journey of change.
Again, I tell you: I am with you. And as Jan says: Yes, everything will be fine. Everything will be just fine, as it should be!
The sun was shining, seemingly brighter and earlier than normal after a couple of days of overcast skies and thunderstorms. I was eager to walk in it’s first light.
“Don Juan says never carry anything in your hands when you walk,” Chuck reminded me, so I put my tiny digital camera in my pocket, wondering if I’d encounter something special, beautiful, or profound to photograph as we walked.
After we’d walked along for a while, talking quietly, I noted that there wasn’t much happening in the world around us. It wasn’t presenting its usual natural wonders, nothing to take a picture of. It seemed quiet. One car passed us. Then a bicyclist passed by, head down. Slumped over the handlebars he seemed focused on the front wheel endlessly turning as it rode the pavement. I recognized him as someone we pass often at that hour. He always seems depressed, never utters a greeting, never looks up, focused only on the road in front of him. Other than that I noted again the quiet of the morning. But then, at the same time, we both saw a rabbit, the first sign of real life. We smiled and acknowledged that nature does not disappoint.
Then I realized that I’d been like the man on the bike today, my head down, my eyes on the road ahead of me. As I’d taken each step I’d been aware only of what lay at my feet: the color of the pavement, the interplay of shadows and light, the leaves, bark, twigs and branches that came down in the violent storms that came through yesterday afternoon. The rabbit reminded me to look around, to lift my head from the path and see what else was available in my world at that moment.
Now the walk was different. Suddenly I was engaged in what was happening around me. Suddenly the perceived dull and sleepy world was alive and I was too. I noted how mistaken I was in my assumption that not much was happening. I recalled the first sounds we’d heard upon awakening in the morning, the baby foxes yipping and yelping in the backyard. I remembered the male bluebird who sat outside our window on the railing of the deck, letting us know that he and his mate have returned to the nesting box nearby for a third time this year, another egg-laying in progress, life giving new life.
As I recapitulated these earlier experiences, I studied again the bike rider, envisioning his riding posture, his energy stuck in his routine of riding along the same route each day, not noticing what else was around him. Unable to lift his head, I wondered what plagued him, and what he might be missing that could set him on a different path. I found myself empathizing with his dilemma, whatever it might be, for I too fall into the same patterns, ride the same road, only taking in the next step as I watch my foot hit the ground in front of me. Little changes, and even less is noticed, if I do not lift my eyes from the path in front of me.
This is what happens to all of us as we live out our lives, staying within our routines, caught in the endless turning of the wheel, whether it’s the endless wheel of work-worry-sleep, followed by more work-worry-sleep, or if it’s simply the daily routines we set out for ourselves. Even as we act out the habitual must-dos that really lead us nowhere, underneath it all we really do know that we need something else to make our lives meaningful and happy. But how do we step off the wheel? Today, I was reminded that if I just look up and away, in an instant the world becomes an entirely different place.
Once we set the intent to recapitulate, we can fall into the same kinds of habitual patterns, get stuck on similar wheels. Our personal dilemmas and deepest issues can overwhelm us. We can get caught in feeling sorry for ourselves, feeling neglected, abandoned, sad and depressed as we revisit our past and confront how we have lived, whether by choice or by circumstance. As we’re drawn back to recapitulate, we may forget to take in the world around us. Even while in deep recapitulation we must lift our heads and be in the world, for in my experience, it’s the world around us that offers us the help we need to interpret, to guide, to revision ourselves, as well as offering us the means to resolution. It’s also only in the world around us that we will find the means to relieve the stresses and intensities of doing deep inner work.
It’s also the world around us that offers us the opportunities to stretch our legs, so to speak, to experience ourselves as changing beings. As we recapitulate, we’re offered the chance to show ourselves and the world just how much we’ve changed, by refusing to do things the old way. As we face daily challenges in our old world, we’re offered the opportunity to test the new perspectives gained through the hard work of recapitulation. There is no better test ground or world in which to advance than the one we live in. This is the place we must do our evolutionary work in, and recapitulation is evolutionary work.
After the sighting of the rabbit I knew all I had to do was look up and allow the world to greet me with whatever it had to offer. As the second half of today’s walk progressed I lifted my eyes from the road and began to notice all the edible wild foods growing alongside the rural road we walk along, the prickly lettuce, the lambs ear, and plantain. I lifted my eyes higher and noticed that swallows now line the wires near the wetlands area where a few weeks ago the red winged blackbirds sat, sentinels guarding their nesting flocks in the tall grasses. As I walked even a week ago they’d dive down at me, warning me to keep away. They’ve moved on now, leaving the swallows their old perch. The world is constantly changing, I noted.
I heard the croak of a raven behind me and, looking higher still, I saw a tiny bird attacking him high in the sky, keeping him from raiding a nest no doubt. The hungry raven was no match for the tiny sharp-beaked bird and he flew off, cro-cro-croaking his guttural cry.
“What does that mean?” I wondered, for I find the raven most significant in my own world.
“Cro-Cro-CROAK! Cro-Cro-CROAK! Cro-Cro-CROAK!” replied the raven in answer to my question.
I repeated this phrase to myself a few times before I finally got the meaning of the raven’s call.
Don't Forget!
Don’t Forget! Don’t Forget! Don’t Forget! he seemed to be saying.
Don’t forget to use the world around you every day as you go through life. Don’t forget to lift your eyes from your well-worn path, from the routines, and notice what else is available to guide you along. Don’t forget that everything is available, possible, a guiding force, a messenger, a reminder. Don’t forget that as you recapitulate you learn new things about yourself and that you may not be as stuck and unavailable to change as you may think. Don’t forget to exercise the new you in the world. Don’t forget to actually put to use the new ideas, thoughts, and experiences you’ve been having. Don’t forget to trust your journey as perfectly right for you. And overall, don’t forget to allow yourself to experience the world differently.
You already know that the world is not as you at first perceive it, the raven reminds. This is what you learn all the time, but can you allow yourself to actually participate in that different world that you have worked so hard to enter, to understand, and to embrace?
The world of nature and the personal world we each live in, offers us everything we need to grow and change. To recapitulate or not is our personal choice. However, in my experience, everyday life is offering us opportunities to recapitulate and to use what we learn about ourselves all the time. We just don’t know this until we decide that it’s so, when we set the intent to re-experience how we’ve understood the world. Sometimes all we need to jump-start new life it the realization that we’re eager for a new perspective because the old one just doesn’t work for us anymore. That was my walking experience this morning.
As soon as I lifted my eyes from the hard gray road in front of me, I discovered a world of wonder. What is recapitulation anyway, but an opportunity to look at ourselves and our world with different eyes. Sometimes we need someone else’s eyes to show us what we’ve been missing. Sometimes we have to dare ourselves, push ourselves to go beyond our routines, ask ourselves to break through our old habits. Sometimes we have to ask ourselves to face our truths so we can move on, without regret, without sadness, simply because it’s time and right to do so. Recapitulation is happening all the time. Do you notice?
By the time I’d gotten home from my walk, I was in a new world. The bluebird greeted me on the deck again, showing me just how much in alignment with my spirit’s eagerness for changing life our natural world really is.
What are you being offered today to change your perspective, your outlook, your inner world, your relationship to self and others? There’s always something out there. What was the first indication in your world today that it’s just not as routine and boring as you’ve perceived it to be? Even in the subtlest ways, nature guides us.
Sending love and good wishes, and I thank the raven for posing ever so briefly so I could snap a photo of him!
Jan
