Category Archives: Jan’s Blog

Welcome!

Archived here are the blogs I write about inner life and outer life, inner nature and outer nature. Perhaps my writings on life, as I see it and experience it, may offer you some small insight or different perspective as you take your own journey.

With gratitude for all that life teaches me, I share my experiences.

Jan Ketchel

Jan's Blog

A Day in a Life: Silent Meditation

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Seeking peace and calm... - Photo by Jan Ketchel
Seeking peace and calm…
– Photo by Jan Ketchel

I attended a silent meditation retreat some weeks ago. I am not ordinarily a retreat kind of person. I am not a group person. I am a loner, but occasionally I find that going outside of my container offers the opportunity for new vitality and renewed commitment to my path. For me, it was to be a day of stalking, for I was leaving my known world and entering into an unknown world. I would have to be appropriate. Proper attire was required, white clothing, modestly covering arms and legs. Yoga and meditation, as well as teaching, would be part of the day long retreat. I stalked from the moment I got up in the morning and dressed. I followed the rules, arrived on time, ready to begin.

Things did not happen according to schedule. No one was ready for the arrival of the retreat attendees. We had to be patient. As we stood about, some attendees chanted softly to themselves, others practiced yoga, preparing themselves for the day ahead. I walked the grounds of the retreat center, calmly and slowly, already in silent meditation. Talking seemed unnecessary and inappropriate. I exchanged a few nods.

Three ravens flew into some trees ahead of me. I stood and watched as they landed, as they ruffled their feathers, and as small white down loosened and slowly fell to the ground. I heard more rustling and noticed a couple more ravens sitting on nearby branches. I saw more white down flutter to the ground. Suddenly, I became aware that I was surrounded by ravens. Out of the darkness of the leaves the shapes of perhaps fifty or sixty ravens appeared, materializing a few at a time, as if by magic. Raven energy, I thought, the scavengers who pick away at the dead, transforming empty carcasses into something new. Not a bad omen, I thought. I wondered what the day would bring. New life, new energy perhaps?

I walked slowly among the birds as if walking beside the ocean, the rustling of their feathers, like the sound of gentle waves washing upon the shore, accompanying me. I walked in a large circle, respectfully passing by the ravens several times as I waited for the retreat to begin. Eventually, the doors opened. Leaving our shoes at the door, we entered the coolness of the building.

Eventually a yoga instructor emerged. Pranayama, breathing, was followed by a series of chakra and meridian opening poses. I was quite at home, but it was an experience to do yoga in a room filled with perhaps 60 or more people. I began to experience a gentle energetic vibration as the session progressed, as creative energy coursed through all of us. The yoga ended with shavasana, as we all stretched out on the floor and sank into calm relaxation.

Chanting followed, in Sanskrit, which is foreign to me. I can chant some simple mantras, and my personal yoga practice involves personal mantras, mostly in English. Suddenly, however, it seemed as if everyone else in the room could speak the language. All of the other attendees were chanting away with gusto, the beautiful syllables flowing off their tongues as the room filled with vibrant, lilting energy. I sort of hummed along, but I realized I was an outsider, that most of the people at the retreat were seasoned and dedicated practitioners of a specific yogic path, used to satsang, used to group energy, used to practicing together. But even though I was not a member of this greater community, I felt welcomed into it, and there I was, as I mentioned, stalking.

In stalking, one allows the circumstances to dictate the process, even as one makes the initial decision to stalk. In alignment with my wish to have a personal experience, to see what happened, I had embarked on the day, and so I was open and receptive, perhaps a little too much, for as the chanting grew louder, I began to vibrate even more than I had vibrated during the yoga session.

I realized that I was taking in the energy and that perhaps it was too much. I stopped chanting. As good as the energy in the room felt, I could not accept any more of it. It was group energy, and a lot of people thrive on it, but I do not. I am not like the ravens who live in flocks; I am a solitary bird. And so I was relieved when it was time to take a break before the first meditation session began with the guru.

Soon the guru appeared, a tiny woman, revered by the many practitioners who had come to be in her presence. I knew little about her. I have never felt the need of a guru, but I sensed the deep affection that filled the room as she entered and took her place. She was serious, her energy almost heavy, as if she had to bear the weight of adoration and she was uncomfortable with it. This assessment of her proved true, for later it was revealed that she preferred not to be revered in any way.

Many eyes look back at me... - Photo by Jan Ketchel
Many eyes look back at me…
– Photo by Jan Ketchel

Without further ado, she guided us into pranayama and then meditation. Meditation must be preceded by pranayama, and end with pranayama, she said. Do Yoga, pranayama, meditation, pranayama. Duration, one hour, she stated, as we began. If negative thoughts arise, she said, say your mantra, whatever it is, five times, then silence. Negative thoughts, mantra, silence. One hour.

Thoughts immediately arose. Is that a negative thought? I’d ask myself. Or is it just a thought. Does it matter? A thought is a thought. Mantra, what mantra should I say? Okay, I’ll say that: Mantra, five times, silence. This became the mantra I said as the meditation session began. “Mantra, five times, silence.”

Fifteen minutes passed. My legs hurt. I heard other people moving about, shifting on their cushions, some quite loudly. I carefully moved one leg, then the other, stretched them out for a time. I pulled my knees in and hugged them for a time. I got back into sukasana, sweet pose, with legs crossed. Another fifteen minutes passed. I knew how many minutes had passed by my body, from my years of sitting in meditation. I knew that soon, in the next few minutes, I would level out and not feel a thing, that by the time 45 minutes had passed I’d be floating, effortlessly present in my body. It happened as expected. It was then that I received this mantra: Look into your darkness until you see the eye of God.

I followed the instructions. I looked into the darkness behind my eyes, a place I look into often, a place where I have had some of my most enlightening and magical experiences, in my own darkness. I looked for the eye of God. Almost immediately an eye appeared. I saw the eye of the meditating Buddha head that we have at home. I saw the eye of an elephant. I saw the eye of a snake. I saw the beady eye of a mouse. I saw the eye of a lion. I saw many eyes floating in and out of the darkness, coming and going. Eventually I saw a big bright eye, staring right at me. Is that the eye of God? I wondered, and then I saw that it was my own eye staring at me. As if I was looking into a mirror, my own eye held my gaze, and then it was gone. I had seen the eye of God, and it was my own.

I had peeked at the guru several times during the meditation session. Every time I looked she was sitting perfectly still, a slight smile on her smooth face. Her head was tilted slightly, as if she were listening to someone speaking in her ear.

With the meditation session over, the guru softened, the stern look and the heaviness that she had entered the room with released a little as she smiled and joked. After a while, I began to feel like a student sitting at the foot of the teacher and I did understand why her flock tended to revere her as a guru. I became a part of their community once again, just as I had during the yoga session, the group energy like a blanket hovering just above our heads.

The guru spoke wisely, her concerns for the world in alignment with my own, her healing approach similar to my own as well. In simplicity and alignment with nature, with what we are granted naturally we can save ourselves, we can save the people of the world. Her greatest concern seemed to be with what we put into our bodies, with the contaminated food that is found in every American supermarket. “That’s not food,” she said, “that comes from processing plants. Food is real.” With the right foods in our bodies, we can access greater spiritual practice and we can change ourselves and our world, she said. I felt, for the most part that she was preaching to the choir, so to speak, but perhaps not. Perhaps too many people, even those in deep spiritual practice, dressing the part and knowing all the words, struggle as much as those who have no practice and no words to resort to.

We broke for silent lunch. I was thankful for the gift of silence, to sit and write my thoughts, to eat slowly of the ayurvedically seasoned and balanced meal, food for sitting in meditation—no rajas, no tamas, just sattva—nothing that will interfere with going into silence.

The afternoon started with more teaching by the guru. And then a man got up and stood before a microphone. I didn’t quite hear what he said, as he spoke too quickly, but everyone else seemed to know exactly what was happening as more chanting began. Again I could not keep up, although I hummed along for a time, but I had no sense of what it meant. The words projected on a screen in front of us seemed endless. Surely that’s the last of it, I’d think, and then another screen filled with phrases would pop up. Loud and fervent chanting filled the room, with the shrillness of bells ringing, a radiant energy building. Suddenly, I began to feel ill. Would it never end? Everyone around me seemed transfixed, mesmerized. Then it dawned on me that they were chanting the 108 divine names of the guru. What number were we on, surely we’d already done fifty.

Finally the chanting ended. It was evening, close to the time when the retreat should end. Time for a short break, but there was still the afternoon meditation to come. Shaking, I got up quickly. My stalking time was over. I had to go back to being me. I gathered my things and exited the building. I could not stay another second. I had to get away from the energy. How could I feel like that after being in that beautiful presence? I wondered, for I did feel the beauty and dedication of the guru, dedicated to her life’s task, to bring to the world what she had learned in the manner of her ancient tradition. It was her path. It was not my path. I am on a different journey. We all walk our paths, some parallel to others, some joining for a time, but in the end they are individual paths.

I shifted out of my stalking self and headed home... enlightened... - Photo by Jan Ketchel
I shifted out of my stalking self and headed home… enlightened…
– Photo by Jan Ketchel

My stalking self shed her persona as I slipped into my sandals at the front door and walked to my car. Shaking off the too good, the too much energy of other, I glanced over at my pals the ravens. They were still there, fluttering their wings, waiting patiently, but for what? Then I saw the dumpsters. They were waiting for food, to pick over the leftovers from the restaurant, to feast upon the energy. They had been there the entire time.

When I got home and told Chuck about the ravens, his first reaction was to remind me of the shaman’s world where they would be seen as predatory energy, also known as entities. We had produced, as a group, a lot of energy that day and the vultures where there to feed off it. As soon as he said this, it all made sense, it had been about energetic exchange, and I understood why the guru had entered with such a heaviness, as she was carrying excessive energy to feed her hungry devotees. She lightened considerably as the day progressed. But it was too much for me. I could not eat another bite of her energy.

When I left, I was more certain of my solitary journey, of my own vital and vibrant energy being enough, of my own spiritual practice, and my own road to freedom. I drove away, thankful for the experience, for it had indeed shifted me and introduced a new vital energy, just as I had hoped. Yet it also sent me right back into myself, back into my darkness, which was exactly where I needed to be, looking for the eye of God inside.

Now, whenever I sit in meditation, I have a new mantra to focus on, to swish away the thoughts, negative or otherwise: Look into your darkness until you see the eye of God. From the energy of the guru, I pass it on to you. Mantra, five times, silence.

Look into your darkness until you see the eye of God.

Namaste,
Jan

Jan's Blog

A Day in a Life: Stalking A New Self

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In that dissociative fugue state... - Photo by Jan Ketchel
In that dissociative fugue state…
– Photo by Jan Ketchel

It’s been in the news, a man wakes up from a coma speaking only Swedish. He doesn’t recognize his wife or family. A diagnosis called Transient Global Amnesia has been applied to his condition. Medical personnel assigned to his case have also decided that he’s most likely in a dissociative fugue state, wherein a person forgets their past and can sometimes take on a new personality. When I first read the headline I was intrigued, having had my own experiences with the Swedish language and inventing a new personality, wondering if the man had woken up in a past life.

The man, it turns out, had lived in Sweden as a child and for much of his adult life, so the fact that he spoke the language was no mystery. The mystery in his case was, how could he forget his current life so easily? The Shamans of Ancient Mexico would diagnose him as having suffered a jolt to the assemblage point, a shift in awareness into a totally new world.

My own first encounters with speaking Swedish came in a dream when I was in my early twenties. In the dream I was traveling across the United States by wagon train. I leaned against the back of the wagon, in which I was traveling with my husband and children, and wept. Great sadness had occurred, the death of our child, whom we had just buried along the trail. My husband came up to console me. We spoke a language I had never heard before. I spoke fluently and without hesitation.

My dreaming self observed the entire dream episode, saw what I looked like and heard myself speaking this strange language. I even understood what I was saying, even though I didn’t understand the specific words. I saw that I was a tall and strapping woman, with thick blond hair tied back in a long braid. I was dressed in neat, clean, but poor cotton clothing, a long dress and apron. My husband was taller and wore a hat. His pants were tucked into high boots. My dreaming self watched as he came over and embraced me.

We wept together and then he told me that we’d have to move on, keep going, that everything would be okay. The rest of the people traveling with the wagon train were preparing to leave. We had to stay with the group. Moving on was essential. It was a strenuous journey, but I knew we’d make it to our destination. I just needed time to gather myself together, I told him. I’d be alright. Then I felt myself pull inward, into deep inner silence. I felt a core of strength shoot through me, like a fire rising out of the depths of me, energy like I had never felt in real life. Then I shook off my sorrow. There was life still to care for, life still to live. Times were tough, but the tough keep going. I woke up as I shrugged off my sorrow, that core of strength burning brightly inside me.

Upon awakening, I was immediately puzzled by the strange language I’d spoken and the sense of connection I felt with the woman in the dream. I knew it really was me, had been me, and that I too had that fiery core of inner strength inside me. I suspected, at the time, that the dream was related to a past life, though I had little knowledge of how that could be possible.

Within a year of the dream, I met my Swedish husband-to-be and six months after meeting him I was living in Sweden. It didn’t take long for me to recognize the Swedish language as the same language I’d spoken in my dream. I took language classes and within no time I was speaking Swedish fluently, like a native I was told, like a native from the southern part of Sweden called Smaland that had been so devastated by drought that the vast majority of farmers left and moved to America during the 1800s. I spent considerable time exploring the country and always found this southern region extremely warm and inviting, the forests and thick-walled cottages so familiar. At the time, all of this reinforced the real possibility that I had indeed lived a past life in Sweden.

Who am I really? - Photo by Jan Ketchel
Who am I really?
– Photo by Jan Ketchel

At the time, however, I was dealing with my own deep issues, undiagnosed at the time. Indeed, I was living out my own dissociative fugue state. Many years later, as I write about in my books, I started working with Chuck. The first thing he did was give me a diagnosis of PTSD. The diagnosis gave me a sort of anchor, an anchor from which I could dive into the dark pool of the unconscious and do deep inner work, but it was not the answer. However, it was during that time that my past, including my decision to move to Sweden in the blink of an eye, all began to make sense. Unlike Michael Boatwright, however, the guy who woke up speaking Swedish recently, I had never lived in Sweden before, though I felt so at home there. I assimilated very quickly, learning not only the language but all the nuances of the culture as if I were, indeed, a native Swede.

Sweden offered me many opportunities. First, I got away from my past and, much like Michael Boatwright, I forgot what had happened to me during a certain part of my life, most of my childhood, in fact, as I write about in my books. I was also offered the opportunity to become a new me, and I did. I changed a lot while I was there. I stalked, as the Shamans of Ancient Mexico call it, a new personality. My introverted, shy self soon felt comfortable to become a new being. The distance really helped. I was so far from everyone and everything that had influenced me up until then that I felt really free for the first time in my life. And so I lived a new life for several years, until it was done, until it was time to return to what I had run away from, for I knew, instinctively, that I had run from something.

It would still be some time before I was ready to face my own mysteries. And, as I was to learn, a diagnosis, whether it be Transient Global Amnesia or PTSD, is not the real answer if one is to evolve. As Chuck likes to say, “Now let’s do the work!” The only thing that was going to help, was the work of recapitulation: facing the past, finding out why I was the way I was, and why I had to move so far away to begin with before I felt safe.

Upon return to the States, I had to reinvent myself once again, for the Swedish woman I had become was not appropriate for the life I embarked upon in New York City. Once again, I stalked a new personality, and I kept stalking different versions of who I thought I really was until I ran out of energy, until I finally collapsed and gave up. It was then that I met Chuck and began to learn about my own inner mysteries, the Shamans of Ancient Mexico, and the process of recapitulation. It was then that real change began and everything made sense.

It was then, as I embarked on a new journey of self-discovery, that I found I really did have within me that fiery core of inner strength that I’d experienced in my dream of the Swedish woman on the wagon train journey. For the most part, it had been deeply buried and inaccessible, as most of my life had been spent in a state of numbness, that dissociative fugue state. It was during my recapitulation that I saw my decision to move to Sweden in a different light. It became clear that it was a move on the part of my psyche to jolt my assemblage point.

With deep inner work, peace will come... - Art & Photo by Jan Ketchel
With deep inner work, peace will come…
– Art & Photo by Jan Ketchel

That journey to a foreign land had been pivotal in rediscovering some important things about myself, to not only awaken a past life experience in this life—and live it again in a sense—but more importantly to give me a hint of the possible self to one day look forward to in the future. For I now know that the free woman I became in Sweden was an immature model of my more mature, true self. I didn’t know any of this at the time, of course, but all of this and much more has been revealed as I’ve stayed on the trail of a life of change, the same kind of trail that my dreaming self was on.

The other thing that my time in Sweden hinted at, I understand in retrospect, was the first hint that I would have to go back in order to go forward. If I was to birth myself into a new woman and allow that fiery core strength to become a part of this life in a real way, I would have to go back into the darkness of my past and retrieve it. I would have to, singlehandedly, move it forward, out of my past life, into this life.

This is the real energy that moves through all of us, through our many lifetimes and many life experiences, but we must discover our own path to retrieving it. We don’t really have to go anywhere to do it, either, unless we have to. We can stay right where we are and do our deep inner work. But if we are to evolve we must take the journey of deep self-exploration so we can harness our energy, hone it, and utilize it as we travel along our life’s journeys.

Stalking new life, always,
Jan

Jan's Blog

A Day in a Life: Thresholding Time

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The energy of the day... Photo by Jan Ketchel
The energy of the day… -Photo by Jan Ketchel

I was quite affected by Jeanne’s message the other day, Transcendence Through Fully Living, stirred to “inhabit my beingness in a fuller way,” as she suggested. Maybe I’ll get a tattoo or a piercing, something daring, I thought. Maybe I’ll cut my hair, make a drastic change, do something to reflect the energy I feel coursing through me, I thought. Then I stepped back and let the energy settle. No, I thought, that’s not what she means. She means own yourself, be yourself to the fullest, be who you truly are. She means live what is inside on the outside now, I decided.

I had a busy day. I selected the clothes to wear with great care. My energy was buoyant and that helped me decide. I wanted my clothing to reflect what I felt inside, my beingness, in a fuller way. I felt good as I left the house in the clothes I had selected. I was in many places throughout the day. I had to travel a bit. I listened to beautiful chanting as I drove, turning the volume up high. I noticed that the day was flowing along nicely.

Afterwards, as I headed toward home, I decided to play a little game with myself, letting the traffic lights guide me, leaving my return route open to guidance from the universe. I have used this technique many times. It was especially important when I was learning how to release my tight hold on controlling, obsessive behaviors, when I was doing my recapitulation and learning how to acquiesce to life itself. When confronted with which route to take, I’d simply let the lights guide me. “If the next light is a green arrow, I’ll take it. If it’s a red light, I’ll go straight.” I have had many transcendent experiences as I’ve played this game, like a virtual map suddenly appearing out of nowhere, a video game that I have never played before.

As I played this game on Monday, green arrows lit up my way, determining which routes I was to take. My energy was still good. I was still flowing along with my chanting music blaring. Suddenly a large shiny black raven swooped in front of my car, seemingly out of nowhere, from the left. Had I been going just a little faster we would have collided. I had no fear, I didn’t even brake, we simply crossed paths. He carried something round and red in his beak. I got a glimpse and then he was gone. Oh, I thought, that’s don Juan, Carlos Castaneda’s benefactor, raven/crow energy, an omen. My first thought was ominous, my second thought bright. I let it be a good omen.

I was on the approach to the bridge, crossing the Hudson, coming up to the toll booth. I let a car merge in front of me from the right, a little blue car much the same color as my own. I was patient. My thoughts went to the man that Chuck and I had met at a checkout line in a store the other day, jokingly suggesting that we pay for his small purchase. He used to be generous himself he said. He used to pay the toll for others crossing the bridge behind him when it was only 50 cents, but now that it’s $1.50 he doesn’t do it so often.

The man in the little blue car stuck his hand out the window and handed the toll collector two dollar bills. He seemed to be talking, taking his time. I waited. I saw him hand the collector another dollar bill. I wondered what he was doing. Can you buy a second passing? It seemed odd. Maybe he was asking for change?

I had my $1.50 in hand as I pulled up to the toll booth and opened my window. The toll collector, with a tone of wonder, told me that the man in the little blue car had already paid my toll. “Oh! Thank you!” I said, delighted, as he opened the gate and I sailed right through. I waved to the man in the blue car ahead of me, wondering if he saw me thanking him.

As I continued my drive home, I took note of the events of the ride, the decision to let the lights guide me; the raven bearing its gift, the merging car, the thoughts going through my head, the gift of the toll. All these synchronicities were significant, but they alone were not the message. They were just signs from the universe leading me to understand the true message. What was it? It took me a little while to get it. I had to recapitulate my experiences to grasp the deeper meaning.

There is always some kind of bridge to cross up ahead... - Photo by Jan Ketchel
There is always some kind of bridge to cross up ahead…
– Photo by Jan Ketchel

I was back home when it finally dawned on me. I was about to cross a bridge, the symbol of connecting worlds, of bridging the disparate selves into a new self, to “inhabit my beingness in a fuller way,” as I had intended when I’d dressed in the morning. The energy of my intent was flowing, the gate simply opened before me, free access was granted, sending me over the crossing. Had I not set my intent to let the universe guide me, none of those things would have happened. In fact though, I had been on the threshold of transcendence all day, steeped in the intent of the channeled message from Jeanne.

We have all been on that threshold of change for a long time; it’s the times we live in. While on that threshold we struggle, just as our world struggles now. We see these struggles in so many areas. We must face our struggles, confront our challenges if we are to evolve. And when we are ready, when we know that it’s time to cross our bridge, if we let the universe be part of our process it makes the crossing a lot easier. I found this out. The next challenge is to keep going over all the bridges in the same manner, fully alert and aware, reading the signs and acquiescing to the journey as it unfolds. We must allow transcendence to become a natural and acceptable part of our lives. It’s not really that hard, and the magic of it is both invigorating and joyous to experience. As Jeanne says, let a little joy in!

Navigating,
Jan

P.S. Just a note to say that the next day I had to face all red lights! The message that day was: PATIENCE! And indeed, as the day unfolded, patience was required, but I found it was an effortless process, as I quite easily flowed without frustration. I read the sign and let it become important. In acquiescence, I have learned many great lessons. Be well. Be flowing.

Jan's Blog

A Day in a Life: Out Of The Shadows

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Female energy in hordes, laying eggs in hordes, unstoppable... - Photo by Chuck Ketchel
Female energy in hordes, laying eggs in hordes, unstoppable…
– Photo by Chuck Ketchel

We have been and continue to be in a time of great feminine energy. The birth of the cicadas after seventeen years underground is only one sign of the emergence of long-suppressed female energy. Once emerged, the main intent of the cicadas, male and female alike, is to reproduce another crop of eggs that will lie dormant deep inside the earth until they too emerge in seventeen years and do the same.

The moon, the ultimate female symbol, is equally important now. The masculine sun has ruled for a long time. We know how important the sun is for life on earth; without it we’d perish pretty quickly. The feminine moon is just as important, ruler of the tides and time, linked to the seasons, to birth and death. She lights up the darkness, revealing things in a different light, while other entities not accustomed to light emerge and live. I always think of the moon in correlation with the oceans, with the ebb and flow of life, especially affecting the female body, its menses and moods, the salt of the oceans and the salt of our human bodies inextricably linked.

The Supreme Court knocked us back a few decades with their repeal of the Voting Rights Act. Texas wanted to close all abortion clinics, but the bill was filibustered by State Senator Wendy Davis, for 11 hours, and failed! My first reaction is an exasperated, “Woe! What is this world coming to!” But I see these things as last ditch efforts by the ruling male energy to suppress the emerging female energy. But they won’t be able to—just think of those cicadas. Nothing is going to stop this energy from coming out of the shadows now. It’s the time of the feminine. At least that’s the way I see it.

The Republicans don’t want Hillary to be President of the United States in 2016, but she will be. Even the Dalai Lama has spoken of the possibility of the next Dalai Lama being a woman, that it would be good because “females have more potential to develop affection or love…” Basically, it’s time. The world is badly in need of help. It needs a healing balm like no other. It needs the soothing energy of Mother, of nurturing energy, a new set of rules to play by. It needs a shift away from the male/masculine domination of our times to a new time of female/feminine intervention. The sun cycle is over; the moon cycle is about to begin. As the Dalai Lama also said, we need a compassionate approach to world leadership and women offer this.

I observe the cicadas. I can’t help it. They are everywhere in our yard, their carcasses littering the deck, the walkways, piled at the bases of trees, crunching beneath the wheels of our cars. I watch the birds swoop down and catch them in mid-air. Even the tiny wren easily grabs them. The cicadas, I notice, are a little clumsy. They flutter and buzz about with great determination but they often land on their faces and flop over onto their backs. They lie there inert, perhaps catching their breath before expending a lot of energy trying to turn over. Eventually they flip onto their prickly legs and stand dazed and unsure. I don’t think they really know what to make of this world that they are in for so short a period of time. Having lived in darkness for so long, they must struggle to get their bearings. In spite of this they attack life with great gusto. With their loud whirring, cheering, and piping sounds those little critters are having an impact!

Poppies popping up all over the place...more of that natural feminine energy! -Photo by Jan Ketchel
Poppies popping up all over the place…more of that natural feminine energy!
-Photo by Jan Ketchel

I think we’re going to have to be patient with ourselves as we move into a new cycle of moon energy. As I see it, it’s going to happen. There is no stopping it, just like there is no stopping the cicadas. But we all have to take full responsibility for where we’ve been and where we’re going. As human beings—not as male and female, but as an embodiment of both energies—we will have to learn how to navigate in a changing world. We may find ourselves as clumsy as the cicadas, but eventually we’ll get ourselves sorted out. We’ll align with the intent of now, which surely is that we correct what has been wrought by our dependence on the masculine energy of our society, as well as the masculine energy of our individual selves, on the suppression of our feminine, from outside and inside. Our egos have ruled for too long. Now it’s time for our hearts to take over and guide us forward into a new world.

We must pull our hearts out of the shadows and let them live and lead us to do what is right for all human beings, for the planet and all of life. Many of us are already there, doing it our entire lives. We must not be afraid to continue being the loving and tender beings we truly are, no matter what kind of backlash comes to stomp on us—and it will come, again and again. But just as we expect Hillary to go the distance, so must we. Just as we wish for a kinder, gentler nation, so must we accept that hatred, bigotry and racism abound, but we cannot allow them to harden our hearts and make us mean too.

We must not dismiss the lessons of the cicadas. They are here because it is their time. Their energy is decidedly feminine, their mission one that only females can enact. Yesterday, as I sat on the deck, a cicada suddenly dropped from the sky and landed with a plunk. “Wow, look at that,” I thought. “Just dropped dead from the sky.” I bent over to look at it and noticed that its back end was missing. “It must be a female,” I thought, “her reproductive cavity worn off with all that work of getting her eggs laid. This one’s mission is accomplished.” But just as I thought that thought, she suddenly turned over. Still alive! And then she got up and flew away! Wow, half dead, half her body gone and still flying! Not done yet! And so I say, we must not forget the cicadas!

Our own time to fly is now. Are we going to forget the cicadas as we move forward? Are we going to forget that we all have feminine energy inside us, just waiting to burst forth out of the shadows and finally live? We all know how good it feels to love, how good it feels to soften our edges, drop our ego pretenses and just be REAL. Why not do this all the time?

We must embrace and live by a new feminine paradigm. We are all charged with emerging from the shadows to change the world in a very new and untried way. We must challenge the status quo all over again. We must get up and fly again, no matter how exhausted we are. We may have to redo a lot of things we thought were already securely embedded in our American psyches. We may have to march again for our basic Civil Rights. Abortion rights, voting rights, and marriage rights are seminal to our growth and freedom as healthy masculine/feminine human beings. A female president of the United States and a female Dalai Lama are seminal if we are to not only heal the ills that we have all created, but move on in a totally new direction.

He died with his boots on, as they say! - Photo by Jan Ketchel
He died with his boots on, as they say!
– Photo by Jan Ketchel

Oh, by the way, I noticed that the male cicadas die with their reproductive parts intact. Once again, it’s the female who gives her all. Take that into consideration as we go into the new moon phase of life, rife with powerful and unstoppable female energy!

Just my opinion,
Jan