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A Day in a Life: The Energetics Of Intent

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I greet and honor my catalpa tree every morning…

Choices, opportunities, signs and synchronicities intrigue me. What will we do with the information we receive? What choice will we make?

While sitting in meditation, gazing out over the catalpa tree in the back yard—my tree, as I call it, for it has given me such deeply resonant answers to so many moments of indecision—I pondered these questions. I noticed the branches of the tree, some thick and strong, extending heavenward, energetically vibrant, others short and thin, ending in many spiky nodes. Here, I thought, is an example of making choices in life. Do we choose the path of healing energy, the strong and upward path of heart as represented by the stronger branches, or do we choose the shorter route that energetically explodes in many directions as represented by the smaller branches.

We make the choices we make based on where we are in our lives, on our experiences and our desires. But what if we were to make our choices based solely on different messages, those that come from deep within, from our ancient spirit selves supported by what comes from without to guide us?

As many of you know, I elected to take the longer route—after many years of avoiding it—by beginning a shamanic recapitulation. Facing all that lay hidden inside, I barreled ahead into the unknown self and into a future that was equally unknown. I let the energy of the recapitulation carry me forward, shedding everything that was familiar. I let myself be supported by a strange, and at that time unknown, energy. This was the energy of the Shamans of Ancient Mexico, as I began a healing practice of recapitulation. It became very clear, as I progressed on my journey, that I was fully supported by all who had gone before, those ancients whom had set the intent of recapitulation as the means to deep and evolutionary change.

Today, that intent flows through me too, energetic strands of that ancient intent interwoven now into the practice that Chuck and I bring into the world through our work. Over the years it has become clear to us—as we strive ever upward, like those long branches of the catalpa tree—how important it is that we bring the ancient knowledge of recapitulation to modern awareness. For we are convinced that recapitulation is the means to total and lasting healing from PTSD, from deep trauma of any sort. Whether this message is fully received now or later, after we are long gone, doesn’t really matter. What matters is that we have set the intent to pass it along.

Today the universe delivered a rainbow to the living room floor…

In addition, for the most part, we deliver the message of recapitulation through energetic means. Our intent, in keeping with the ancients, has been that people will find their way, that they will discover the healing power of recapitulation because it is so right. And that is just what has happened. Though we use some commercial means to publish our work—using the Internet to maintain a website and the self-publishing advantage offered by Amazon—for the most part, everything we offer is free. Even my books on recapitulation, the second to be published in the next few months, are provided at the barest minimum. We make no money on them, and yet we do not lack, for we have everything we need. This too is a result of engaging in and trusting in the power of intent.

And so, I acquiesce to the reality of the power of intent—the intent of the Shamans of Ancient Mexico and all others who energetically impart knowledge—absent of the busyness of engaging in all the buzz from outside (even the Pope is tweeting now!) for it really isn’t necessary. In absenting the self from all the outer buzz—from the greed for more connection; for the best deals, fearful that we’ll miss something; from the energy that is all consuming and over-consuming—we gain the inner calmness and the quiet that is required so we can be available to hear what the universe is telling us. In this manner, we become energetically available ourselves to channel the messages of the universe, to flow with the energy of ancient intent, to become part of a badly needed healing energy.

As I gaze out over my catalpa tree, I receive the message that now, more than ever before, it’s time for all of us to take full responsibility for our thoughts—as energetically resonant and affecting as our tweets and face-booking—for our actions, and for our own healing. Healing is truly an energetic process, and this we discover as soon as we turn inward, for here we find all we need.

As we decide upon a path, may it be a path of heart, a path of healing for the self and the world. May it be a path of ancient intent, for that is where the greatest energy lies, the deepest connection to soul, the possibility for true and lasting change. May we all choose the long branch when we come to the crook in the tree, rather than the short branch. If we pause long enough to contemplate, we will realize we’ve already taken that short and spiky branch so many times before, its end predictable. If we pause long enough to determine that it is indeed time to become fully responsible for healing the self, we will tap into the ancient intent of such healing practice and be supported and guided along the way.

A process of change, of recapitulation, of healing, is just that, a process, and so there are lumps and bumps to contend with, there are obstacles to encounter, there are challenging precipices to endure as we plunge ahead on our journeys, and yet there are also moments of great awakening and sublime experience as we open ourselves to such energy of intent. Our personal intent to embrace a practice of healing is embraced in return by the energy of ancient intent. Chuck and I are living in that embrace, and it is our deepest wish that others discover it and experience it too.

Here is Jeanne’s energy of intent as I once painted it…

Now, as we come to the end of the year, as the winter solstice is soon upon us, we see how crucial it is for all of us who inhabit this planet to come together, energetically. We can do this by consuming less, destroying less, wasting less time, resources, energy, etc., turning instead to the energetic practice of intending change. Repeatedly intending change and personally taking responsibility to enact change in our own lives means there is hope for us, and this planet that we have done such a good job of bringing to the brink of destruction. Real change can happen on an energetic level. That’s my message for today.

And so I encourage all of you to give the gift of energy this holiday season, by intending healing, love, and kindness along with your other gifts. Begin a personal practice, extending positive energy to all in your nearness, to those you love and those who challenge you the most. And don’t be afraid to talk to the trees! They have a lot to tell us. Step out onto a new branch; a new path of heart, without fear, keeping in mind at all times that energetic intent is what binds us all. Let’s use it more fully now. Let’s heal.

From within the energetics of intent, I send you greetings,
Jan

Jan's Blog

A Day in a Life: Always Change & Change Is Good

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Seasonal change is inevitable…ice on the deck this morning…

Change is good. This is one of my favorite mottos. Change is good. Back in the days before I had done a shamanic recapitulation I had another, similar, motto that went like this: Always change. Back then I was suffering from PTSD (Post-traumatic Stress Disorder), though I didn’t know this. But even so I knew that change was good, I just didn’t really know why, not on a deeper level anyway. Now I know that it was something at a deeper level that was stirring me to always change, PTSD acting as a catalyst that eventually led to self-discovery and real change. The form that change takes under the auspices of PTSD, however, is very different from change that takes place once freed of PTSD.

Back in the PTSD days, change came knocking in uncomfortable stirrings to move, to always change, to change my environment in some way, whether it be changing the furniture in every room of the house every few weeks or uprooting and moving to another apartment, another house, another city, another state, another country, another relationship. I did all of these things, under the auspices of always change, restlessness my constant companion. But something at a deeper level was always asking me: Why do I do this? Why do I have to keep moving and changing? Why can’t I just settle down?

I felt like I was running from something, that if I stopped in one place long enough whatever it was would catch up with me and that would be the death of me. For at some deeper level, I knew that death was what was chasing me—death in one form or another.

Now, on one level, this is true, for death is pursuing us all the time, reminding us that in the end it will get us. In my case, I sensed death differently, the stench of it deep inside me already. Although I didn’t know it, that smell of death—that I could never run far enough away from—was trying to alert me to what I carried inside me: a dying spirit, a dying innocence, a dying sense of hope, for these are some of the things that PTSD robs us of. Until we stop and face what the stench of death is trying to alert us to, we will constantly seek change in our outer world, to find just the right place where we will feel comfortable, safe, and at ease. I went into my late forties always changing before I stopped and faced what was pursuing me, the past that was embodied in that diagnosis of PTSD, a past I had no memory of.

Fires of change like kundalini energy burning through us…

When I first met Chuck, he presented me with those four little letters—PTSD. Oh, so that’s what’s wrong with me! At last I had a name for all that had driven me in so many unsettling ways, a name that felt right. “Yes, I get it, I suffer from PTSD,” I said to myself, “I just never knew it.” Now I had a home, a slot to fit into in the world, I had PTSD. But I would not stay there. I could not settle for long. I refused to be categorized, tagged and diagnosed, for always change was still my motto after all. And so I told myself to change, that change was good, that it was what I needed in order to heal. And so I began a changing, healing journey out of PTSD and into new life. Long and painful though that journey was I would not, in a million years, wish to live the way I used to live.

Now when I say that change is good, I’m talking about the deepest kind of change, change of the self at the deepest level, from the inside out. This involves letting go of everything that has upheld the world we’ve lived in—everything we’ve been taught and taught ourselves, everything we’ve believed and couldn’t bear to believe, everything we’ve created and controlled in order to be safe. This involves learning to let go of our judgments, resentments, fears, and regrets, opening instead to the truth of our infallibilities, our frailties, our imperfections, and our inflations. It involves discovering what it really means to be humble, to live simply, in balance with all of nature, taking only what is necessary. It involves learning to love ourselves so we can one day be available to love another, so we can understand what it means to be loved, and how to give and receive love on a far more expansive, interconnected level of consciousness, far beyond the needs of the self. It involves letting go of our ego selves, detaching from that which has held us in our defended states for so long, making way in the process for a new self. It involves allowing this new self to emerge out of the stench and fear of death that has encapsulated us in all of its forms and fully acknowledge that yes, death is the ultimate catalyst to evolutionary change. It involves discovering for the self what it means to be an evolving being, here in this lifetime to discover and resolve an evolutionary challenge, given another opportunity to get it right.

Opportunities abound, coming at many times throughout our lives. Our challenge is, indeed, to always change, to go with the flow of our lives, accepting full responsibility for where we are at all times, accepting that we are not perfect, that we are human beings, but also that we are evolutionary beings as well, spiritual beings seeking something higher, something far beyond our PTSD, our boredom, our fear, our self-pity and our hopelessness.

Seeking always a higher evolved self…

The deepest kind of change means facing who we’ve become and daring ourselves to become someone far more evolved, far more connected to life on this planet while striving always to become far more aware of the spiritual possibilities of all things, and far more aware of all life as sacred.

The creative, urging us on one level to do something about ourselves or our environment, stirs in us at all times. Perhaps we project it outwardly as I did, as an artist constantly creating something new, some new picture, sculpture, dance, play, music. But after a while a deeper creativity comes knocking, asking us to channel the ultimate creation: a new self. And you know what, it’s really okay to do that, to totally change and become someone new, for after all, in the end, it’s the evolution of the self that we’re all here to spur on to a new level. This is why, I believe, we’re all here—to always change—and such change is always good.

I am a changing being and so are you,
Jan

Jan's Blog

A Day in a Life: Dreaming All The Time

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What it says…

I dream each night, long and winding dreams that string me along, taking me through many structures, along roads and pathways, through intimate and public settings alike. I encounter people I know and people I’ve never met. Sometimes I’m an observer, sometimes I participate, sometimes I’m all parts of the dreaming self, the dream and dreamer alike.

I dream with the intent of training my awareness, my greater intention to be alert at the moment of death so that my time in the bardos may be limited, so that I may swiftly make my way through that state of dreaming and onto what comes next without getting caught. I’m also interested in learning as much as I can now, about the human potential beyond the mind and body. And so each night I set my intent to remain alert, to wake up in my dreams and remind myself that I’m dreaming, and to be proactive in my dreams.

This process of dream intent and training really began during my recapitulation, as I found myself able to tackle issues and do things that I could not ordinarily do in real life, everything from simply saying no to defending myself with masterful moves and extraordinary powers. I learned how to hone such skills, gradually daring myself to go beyond my normally passive and asleep self in real life too, being as fully awake and as powerful as I was in my dreams. As this powerful dream self eventually spilled over into real life, I grew into a new person as a result of the work I was doing in dreaming, complementing my recapitulation work so nicely

I began to understand that everything I was dreaming was part of the bigger picture of my recapitulation process and my life as a whole, and that my transformation was directly linked to all that I was doing in both waking and dreaming life, and so I took dreaming very seriously. As I found myself doing things in dreaming that I could not ordinarily do as a human being, I began to value the work, more eager to hone a supple energy body, for I saw that it offered a deeper understanding of the meaning of life itself.

Training our awareness is a gradual process, but a good first step is to begin each night as we are on the verge of going off to sleep by simply stating: “I intend to remain aware during dreaming.” Since we all dream anyway, this may be all it takes to begin honing the skills of awareness that will lead us to transformation, now, and later at our time of transition from this life.

Just as the signs and synchronicities in life may not at first be clear, so are dreams sometimes unclear, their meaning unapparent for days. At other times, they are immediately significant and helpful. Part of training to be a good dreamer is to sit with what we return from dreaming with long enough for its truth to be revealed. If we gloss over or forget—allow a dream to be too complicated or confusing to interpret or know on a deeper level—we limit ourselves. So part of the training involves doing inner work around the messages we receive in our dreams, to keep them in our awareness. As we work on this during waking hours, keeping our dream messages alive, our dreaming self gains strength as well. As we hone our energy body in dreaming, we begin taking back our personal energy too, making it available for use in this world as well.

We all go to sleep each night. We all dream each night. We all wake up each morning and reenter the life we live in reality. We see these two worlds—night and day, dreaming and sleeping—as so separate, but really they aren’t. They’re two sides of the same coin. We are the coin and both sides are us. The challenge is to meld them, to make them one flowing life. That’s how to become aware.

Dreaming all the time,
Jan

Jan's Blog

A Day in a Life: Turning

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Worry like heavy stones comes…

Between us, Chuck and I have five children, his three and my two. All in their twenties, all on their own journeys, we worry about them nonetheless. Some days we hear from them as they express deeply painful challenges. On other days they call with good news, glowing in their accomplishments, bubbling with happiness and self-confidence. At other times we hear nothing at all for weeks on end. One of our greatest challenges as parents is to let them all go into the world and have their experiences, whatever they may be, knowing that they are learning how life works, deciding how they want to live their own lives, just as we’ve done.

During my intense recapitulation period, which spanned three years, I received hundreds of messages of guidance. They came from many sources—from dreams, from the signs and synchronicities I’d encounter in everyday life, from otherworldly sources, from the ever-deepening recapitulation process itself—as I dove deeper and deeper into my past and discovered what I harbored in body, mind, and spirit as a result of that past. Last night, as I was drifting off to sleep, a familiar voice came to visit and delivered a message from my days of recapitulation.

“Just turn away from that which comes to occupy your mind, turn away from worry, for worry is nothing more than a cogitation of the mind,” the voice said. “Turn away and you will see that it is nothing; it only exists if you let it.”

And so I turned. Each time I woke during the night, I’d automatically turn, and in so doing I left whatever was seeking entry behind. Without thought, I’d turn away, instinctively knowing that it was the right thing to do. But I did notice that each time I turned something seeped away from my awareness; I could feel it fall away from my head and land on the pillow behind me. A thought that was just about to anchor, easily flowed out of me, for I would not allow it to get a grip. And I realized the truth of worry, that it’s like air, flowing through the universe looking for a crack to seep into, looking for an opening. In turning, I refused it. “Nope,” I said, “you can’t land here.”

Eventually the void clears…

For some reason lately, worry has been seeking me out. I feel it coming to me, asking me to engage it. The Shamans of Ancient Mexico, from the lineage of Carlos Castaneda, talk of worry as an entity, seeking to attach and siphon our energy, and that is exactly the way I feel it, as a foreign entity looking for a way in, seeking sustenance. I feel it tickling me, asking me to please let it in.

As a clairvoyant, I’ve made a concerted effort to not let certain “knowings” in, to refuse to accept some of the things that I intuit. There are things that it just isn’t right to know and so I turn away from them as soon as I sense them trying to occupy my psyche, for they too will siphon my energy. In the past, I’d get clear messages of knowing, seeing the unfolding of events, seeing deaths. Such insights aided me in trusting my psychic abilities, but now I don’t need such things, for I accept where I am and who I am. I understand that this “knowing” is natural, part of being human, and yet it must be carefully considered and utilized in the right way.

In addition, I’ve learned that it doesn’t matter what I know, that the most compassionate thing is to just be present for people as they go through their lives, to be available when sought out. The Buddhists say that it isn’t right to interfere with another person’s life, and I understand that, that we may be interrupting a process many lifetimes have been spent perfecting and is perhaps on the verge of being resolved. I’ve learned that you can’t tell anyone anything either, no matter how clearly you see. I believe that people will get what they need when they are ready, and only when they are ready. And they will get it in their own way.

And so, last night, as worry about others came to tease me, asking me to attach and give it life, I paid attention to my message of guidance and turned away. For I also believe that in attaching to worry my energy would feed it, grow it, and perhaps even manifest it, when in reality I know that in the lives of others there are so many possibilities, so many outcomes, so many paths to unfold.

And so I refuse to influence another’s choice, another’s life in that way, even energetically. By attaching my worry to another, to their decisions, I believe that my energy will interfere. Instead, I choose to send positive energy out into the world, loving energy that says, “Take your journey!” At the same time I continue to train myself in compassionate detachment.

And so, I practice compassion…

I learn compassion as I step back and let others live their own lives, learning as I once learned, by living my own life. As a teenager and young adult, the only thing I wanted was to be freed of others, of my parents and the life I’d had with them. And yet my father was a supreme worrier and so—clairvoyant that I was—I sensed his worry and his fears, and they burdened me. With all that I carried inside me, his burdens were the last things I wanted, and so I was forced to reject him, turning from him so many times because I could not bear his thoughts. I told myself I would never do that to my own kids. I would never burden them with my fears and worries. And so each day, I energetically send them off on their own journeys, freed of my worries.

I know that we all have to live out our lives as we must. I cannot change another’s path, make their choices for them, or direct the outcomes of their lives. I can only work on my own. And so I continue to turn.

Compassion enfolds me at every turn. Love embraces me at every turn. Life fully expressed asks me to come into its arms, receive it, and keep going with it to a new level of understanding and growth. And so I turn and turn, night and day, finding my way to energetic freedom and compassion for myself and others. No matter how much I love the others in my life, I must let them go so that they may fully live, as I too wish to fully live.

Turning,
Jan

And yes, it was the voice of Jeanne that came to me last night, in a deeply loving and compassionate way, so reminiscent of my days of recapitulation.

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A Day in a Life: Two Tales Of Meaning

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We switched things around this week, so Chuck’s blog appeared on Wednesday and here is mine today. Have a great weekend, I’ll be back on Monday with a message from Jeanne!

Path stone—The only path worth taking is the path of heart…

I’ve been hard at work on the next book in my Recapitulation Diaries series. Today I publish a couple of excerpts from the Prologue. One about an encounter with an ostrich, the other, in keeping with Chuck’s theme, is about an encounter with a coyote. These two animal omens not only predicted events in my life, but also bracketed the fifty-year pact of silence that I unknowingly upheld before beginning my recapitulation—information that remained hidden inside me until I was ready to receive it. I invite you to read on. My intent is that the new book, On The Edge of the Abyss, be published in January. I’ll keep you posted.

An Ostrich Bite

As the story goes, I was about a year old when my parents pushed my stroller up to the ostrich exhibit at the Bronx Zoo. Without warning or provocation an ostrich simply poked its head through the bars of its cage and bit me on the arm, only releasing me after being whacked repeatedly over the head. I received a nasty pinch, but other than that little damage was done. This curious tale was told often during my childhood, though the retelling was always brief, the details left to the imagination. “An ostrich bit you!” my parents would say, in the same dumbfounded tone they would have used had a dragon bitten me.

“But why?” I’d ask, seeking deeper meaning. “What does it mean?”

“An ostrich bit you!” they’d simply say.

By the time I was twelve this story no longer intrigued me; in fact, I was rather bored and embarrassed by it. I’d often wish it had been some other bird or noble creature, or that it had happened to some other girl. Why couldn’t a handsome peacock or beautiful swan have bitten me, why the ugly ostrich? And why did this have to be the only story my parents ever told about me as a baby, and why did they have to tell it so often? I was never satisfied by their presumption that it was just a plain and simple fact of my life; I knew there had to be more to it. Now, after all these years, the possible significance of that bite emerges.

Both an omen and a warning, I believe the ostrich was marking me for the journey ahead, for shortly thereafter, by the time I was two, my trials began. Perhaps, with that nip on the arm, the ostrich was saying: this child will be challenged, but this child will also find the means to transcend the ugliness of those challenges. Perhaps the mark of the ostrich signified strength and groundedness in this world, but the severing of all ties to this world as well, for only in having experiences of transcending this world would the innate abilities of the spirit self find reason to emerge.

I believe the bite of the ostrich was preparing me for what was to come, predicting the encounters with the sexual predator and the lessons I would learn during my life. And so began my solo journey, ritually initiated by the ostrich at the zoo, stamped by the keeper at the gate so that I would be recognized in the dark and dreary world I was soon to enter. I believe I was guided as my journey transgressed from the world of protected infancy into the unknown, into the shadows of a forest filled with dangers more fantastical and abhorrent than that meager nip on the arm.

Within a few months of that ostrich bite a new baby brother took my place on the lap of our distant mother, my brief year of maternal tenderness over. I was sent out into the world to play, to explore, to gain sure-footedness, to become self-sufficient and strong, worthy of the bite that had been placed on my arm by that ostrich at the zoo.

A Coyote Tale

I began my life encountering the bite of the ostrich and much later, a few years before beginning my recapitulation journey, I encountered another animal totem, another sign of life’s potential unfolding. I was in the midst of change, having experienced a brief moment of clairvoyance that had precipitated a move the year before. I was living with my then-husband and our two young children in a farmhouse on the edge of ten acres of land, our backyard enclosed by a white wooden fence and a rush of tall pines. One early spring day I walked back to the compost pile in the corner of the fenced area farthest from the house. Surrounded by open fields, I was just about to empty my bucket of compost onto the pile when something caught my eye. Looking up, I saw a coyote standing no more than five feet away on the other side of the fence, an enormous groundhog hanging limply from its mouth. Catching sight of me at the same moment, it dropped the dead animal. Our eyes locked.

Unable to break the intense scrutiny of the coyote’s eyes, the world around me dissolved and I was pulled into a different world by its stare, a world that was timeless, dark and silent. I had the sense the coyote was assessing whether or not I was a threat, while I silently sent it the message that I would not harm it, nor challenge it for its prey. After what felt like several minutes, the coyote shifted its eyes, breaking the spell, and the ancient silence between us dissolved. The world reappeared and I dared to breathe again.

I watched as the coyote slowly bent down and picked up the large furry animal in its powerful jaws, tossing and juggling it to get a good grip, before it slowly turned away. Taking one last look at me over its shoulder, it pranced off through the field at a brisk pace. I stood there for a long time, looking after it, amazed at what I had just encountered. We had stood so close, both surprised to find the other creature intruding upon our private space, our private thoughts, our private experiences, yet we were simultaneously caught in the same state of utter calm knowing, ancient and unthreatening.

So what did this mean? At the time I was uncertain, but I took it as a good omen. My spirit uplifted by the experience, I felt sure it meant something important. A shaman friend told me it was an unusual occurrence. “The coyote rarely shows itself,” he said, “especially rare to see one on a sunny afternoon.” So, why did it show itself to me and what was I supposed to learn?

Although its message evaded me, the magic of the moment stayed with me, and I gradually allowed myself to envision positive change coming my way. Within a few years the fragile world I was attempting to uphold would crumble, not through anyone’s fault, it was simply done. There was nothing left to be gained by staying there. Similar to my experience of moving on from infancy, after receiving the ostrich bite and being released from my mother’s lap, it was simply time. Moving on this time meant discovering that it was time to recapitulate my childhood, to rediscover the world I had lost, the world I had blocked out, the secret world of the predator and its prey.

Coyote howling at the moon, awakening what lies within…

In recalling the encounter with the coyote, I began to wonder what it was hinting at, for I knew our encounter was deeply and personally meaningful, even more so as time went on and change did happen, much as I had dared to foresee. Was the coyote hinting that I had once been locked in a battle with a predator like itself and that I would only rediscover this by going into the dark past and reliving it? This seems likely to me now, though at the time it would have been a far-fetched idea. At the time, I had only a vague awareness of the shaman’s world, and yet I was deeply struck by the encounter with the coyote, a significant shamanic symbol, and I could not let it pass as mere coincidence. I had learned a long time ago that everything was meaningful in some way, though that meaning could be as illusive as the memories that lay hidden in my inner darkness. Or was I just a fool, tricked into thinking I was being offered something by the wily coyote? Only time and hindsight would tell.

Indeed, what I could not have imagined then has transpired. Warning of what was to come, what was to be reawakened, the coyote signaled that I had the strength to go back into the predator’s world, telling me not to be afraid, not to flinch at what I would see and experience. It was telling me not to fear or back down when I went back into the past and looked the predator in the eyes. It was telling me to use my own adult eyes to gain clarity about what happened to me in that world and to pay attention to everything I encountered along the way. In utter silence, the coyote told me these things.

Though these two tales bracketed the first fifty years of my life, I made the choice to remove the brackets, to let in memories and experiences that would transform my entire world, and me along with it. My books are about taking such a journey, about finding meaning and purpose in even the most dire of circumstances and discovering a direct connection to that ancient self that the coyote briefly reconnected me with. It became my job to allow that knowledge to fester, to remain in my awareness, and then to elect to go inside, taking the inner journey of self-discovery, reawakening it more fully. Glimpses of meaning must be taken seriously and allowed to fester, for they are what lead us to real change and transformation.

Everything is meaningful,
Jan