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

A Day in a Life: On Becoming Glorious

We all have the potential to be solitary and strong...

We were driving down the highway last weekend when I glanced out the car window. In the blink of an eye I saw a most beautiful tree standing alone in a field. Now that’s a metaphor for life, I thought, maturity and wholeness achieved by standing alone and detached, made gloriously strong by having taken full responsibility for self.

The image stayed with me. I just could not get that stunning tree out of my mind. It stood there so regally, its branches fully extended, its symmetry unique, its solitude firmly established. It needed nothing except the earth to plant itself in, the sun to nurture it, the seasons and weather patterns to test it and provide it with all that it needed in order to grow. It did not hold back because there was nothing around it holding it back. Its own spirit was fully in charge.

Wow, that’s how we should all be, I thought. I contemplated my children and all the children in the world, struggling to become independent, to shed themselves of their fears and make their way into the world. I knew then that our greatest gift to our children, and to anyone else in our lives, is to indeed let them live the life they choose, to let them go.

As we continued on our drive down the highway, I noticed other trees crammed together along the roadside, clearly cramped, held back, unable to fully mature because of circumstances that did not allow for their branches to fully extend like the branches of the solitary tree in the middle of the field. Growing too close, I saw that they would never reach their full potential. They were so crammed together they could not access enough sunlight and so they lacked the splendor of the tree in the field. Perhaps their root systems were intertwined, entangled; perhaps they struggled to find enough water to keep them healthy. Again, I felt the significance of the lone tree in the field. Left alone, the sturdy tree was offered every opportunity to grow to full maturity unencumbered by others, only the forces of nature to do battle with.

As human beings, we too are offered the opportunity to grow to full maturity, to become regal beings unencumbered by the obstacles of energetic attachment and grasping, if we so choose. In fact, unlike a tree, which is firmly planted, we have legs. We have mind. We can make personal decisions and we can get ourselves up out of dire and unhealthy situations. We can move ourselves. Even though we may have entanglements and roots that appear to keep us attached, in actuality, we always have the opportunity to move into new and better circumstances. Rather than settling for unfulfilled lives, we can choose to change, if we dare.

As human beings, we can elect to live as our spirits desire. We can choose to move away from the crowd, from the restrictions placed on us by the world we grew up in and the world we continue to attach to, to need or think we need. We can choose to do deep inner work, finding our true spirit’s desires waiting deeply within us. Like the roots of the tree seeking nurturance and the branches reaching toward the sun, our spirits always strive to grow and mature. We can learn what it means to detach from that which is not healthy and, by redirecting our intent, achieve wholeness. We can choose to view ourselves in a new way, as standing as strong and solitary, as spiritually whole and fulfilled as that tree I saw in the field.

As we go through life we have so many opportunities to provide ourselves with everything we need, yet we often turn to others to provide us with what we seek. We often stay connected to people and situations that no longer offer what we truly desire for ourselves. We stay attached to old ideas of ourselves, to old fears, and old theories of the meaning of our lives. We often remain like the trees alongside the highway. Crammed in by circumstances, our energy depleted by those around us, our opportunities for fulfillment stifled, we settle for where we are rather than dare uproot ourselves and seek new life.

The solitary, strong tree, its branches fully extended in all directions looked so happy. It looked free. It had energy! Even though it’s winter now and it was cold and windy on that day that we passed by, that lone tree looked so glowingly alive. That tree looked so contented.

Who knows what our greatest potential might be?

Now that is what we all need, I thought. That is what our spirits truly seek. That is what we must all strive for as we live our lives, and we must let others strive for the same. We must find our way to fulfillment and completeness by constantly seeking our fullest potential, without attachment, without fear of being alone. For I saw that in aloneness that tree had everything it needed, as a solitary unit it was complete, it was enough.

In that solitary tree I saw what I always knew, that aloneness did not mean being alone. It meant being totally free. It meant being strong and open, accepting and ready for anything. It meant having the energy to accept all energy from outside without damage to self, without attachment because it was not necessary. That tree did not need anything and yet its energy was totally open and giving. By its very beingness, by having achieved wholeness it was vitally alive, part of the greater whole.

We must all find our true selves by not holding back because of fear of this or that. If that tree had fear of aloneness, or fear of wind, or fear of the seasons, it would not have achieved its glory. So is it with us, we must not be afraid to seek our highest potential and achieve our most glorious selves.

Jan

A Day in a Life: Beware The Trickster

The Trickster comes in many forms...

The Trickster is everywhere, waiting to draw us in. Even in moments of deep contemplation and worthy endeavor the Trickster may appear, throwing a mighty chink in the works of our deepest inner process. Today, I write one more story related to the day my aunt died, as it seems relevant to the message channeled from infinity on Monday: Show me Something.

As I have written of in several blogs over the past few weeks, my aunt’s dying was a process that spanned years. Together we had spoken of her death, read numerous books about the dying process together, and in her last few weeks spent many hours talking until she could do little more than utter a few words at a time. Finally, in full awareness, she set her intent. She was done with this life. She was ready. She asked me to be with her, to see her through the dying process.

I set out early in the morning to sit with her. On the drive to the hospital, I threw out a plea to the universe: “Please give me a sign,” I pleaded, “just one sign to show me what to do. I’ve never done this before. I’m nervous about being all that she needs me to be on this most important day.”

At the first stoplight I came to, I noticed a red and black bumper sticker on the car ahead of me. I inched closer, trying to read the small print. Here is what I read: Gandalf Murphy’s S……… Circus of Dreams. I couldn’t make out the word beginning with the letter S, but I was struck. Circus of Dreams! That must be meaningful, I thought.

At the next stoplight, I inched even closer, still trying to read the word beginning with the letter S. It’s then that I noticed the picture on the bumper sticker, a magician in a top hat, a big leer beneath a large curling mustache. A Trickster! Now I was wary, but I was still drawn to try and read the word beginning with the letter S. Could it be Sensational? Stupendous? What does all this mean? It must be significant or why else would I be so drawn to it?

There were no stoplights for a long stretch. “Focus on the road ahead,” I heard a voice say, “don’t get distracted.” Okay, but I still wondered what that word was that I couldn’t read clearly.

I came into Rhinebeck and stopped behind the same car at the light. Something told me, very firmly, not to look at the bumper sticker anymore. It wasn’t important. I turned my gaze to the left and then I got it. I spotted the Tibetan store and I knew that, indeed, I must not get distracted from the mission at hand.

The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying by Sogyal Rinpoche, and the writings of Tulku Thondup are instrumental in my own evolutionary process and were major players in my aunt’s process of dying. We had been waiting for this day for a long time. Now I understood what the message of the bumper sticker was: Don’t let anything distract you from the mission of the day. Your aunt’s intent is all that matters. You will be fine. That bumper sticker is nothing compared to how much preparation you have already done for this moment in your life. Stay focused on the mission.

The mission at hand...

From that moment on I never glanced at the bumper sticker again. My eyes were focused on the road ahead of me, which turned into a tunnel without further distraction, leading me to whatever dream would unfold as the day progressed. I let myself become part of the transformational process that was already in progress without attachment to fear or self-consciousness. I arrived at my destination having fully detached from all that was going on in the world outside me. All that mattered was the intent of the day. I shrugged off everything except what my aunt asked of me: to become what she needed; an energetic presence guiding and guarding her own energy as she took her final breath and swam into the light.

In being open to the process of asking for guidance, in asking infinity to “Show me something!” as Monday’s message guides us to do, I was also confronted with correctly interpreting the message I received that day. Had I gotten caught in my endeavor to look too closely at the bumper sticker, any number of outcomes could have resulted. But as soon as I turned away, listening to another voice telling me to let it go, I clearly understood that nothing else mattered but the mission at hand.

The Trickster pulls us constantly away from the real mission at hand: to evolve, to rid ourselves of our attachments, our agendas, our angers and selfishness, to be fully open and present for others, so that their journeys may be smoothed by our true and selfless presence in their lives. This is what I strove for on that day when I drove to the hospital to be with my aunt. The mission was not only her smooth dying process, but also my own letting go to the process. And that is what happened, we both let go, she of this life in her body and me of my self-consciousness and fear.

As I went with the flow, aligning with her needs and intent, I became—without thought really—energetically available. That is what I believe we are all prompted to do every day, to learn how to flow through our lives, making choices that matter, dismissing what in not in alignment with our greater mission. That is what the message on Monday asked us to consider when it said: Challenge infinity and dare yourself to experience something that will lead you to greater understanding.

It takes baby steps. Oh, and learning to identify the Trickster and then reject its intent to usurp our energy. And remember: the Trickster is not human, but energy that wants what it wants for its own selfish purposes. Watch out how it comes into your life. Just as the good signs of guidance come in many forms, so does the Trickster. It can be very tricky just trying to figure out the message we are supposed to learn.

I never did read that last word on that bumper sticker that day. I let it go, until I thought about writing this blog. Through a little Internet research, I discovered that the bumper sticker referred to a band: Gandalf Murphy’s Slambovian Circus of Dreams. In knowing that, I see that it’s relevance to the mission of that day was exactly what I needed.

It let me know, in one sense, that I was about to enter my own dream world and to not get caught up in someone else’s. It let me know that nothing was as uniquely and magically attractive as the mission at hand. I was being asked to stay attuned, aligned with what I was being asked to do: to guide another human being through her last hours on earth, to see her through to new life. Isn’t that what we’re all here to do: see ourselves through to new life?

Thanks for reading. Here’s hoping my experiences of the Trickster help in the unfolding of everyday life, tricky or otherwise.

Jan

A Day in a Life: Reflecting On Lessons Learned

When the crows of recapitulation come...

The crows of recapitulation show up regularly, asking us to reflect on lessons learned, asking us to seek value and meaning in every aspect of life. It is only in looking back, in recapitulating, that we are fully available to see what we might have missed while in the midst of learning our lessons.

Our lessons come to us in a myriad of ways, in the situations we find ourselves in and in the circumstances of our lives, desired and looked forward to or put upon us and feared. It doesn’t matter how the lessons come. The only thing that matters is that we take the time to study them and fully grasp what they are trying to teach us.

I wonder what I’m supposed to learn today? I often ask myself. And then I wait. By the end of the day I may often have to search for meaning, yet, at other times, I have grasped meaning throughout the day. Either way, I am aware that I must recapitulate the day’s events in order to fully integrate the lessons of value into my evolving spiritual journey.

In daily recapitulation, as well as in deeper recapitulation around our past, we are offered the opportunity to become a more fully evolved human being and to grow spiritually as well. Eventually, we might learn that everyone we encounter in our lives has something important to offer us. Whether they appear as angels or devils, it doesn’t really matter, because they are all there to teach us something of value.

Although the process of recapitulation can be extremely challenging at times, if we stay focused on learning we offer ourselves a tool to navigate through even the roughest of memories and situations as they arise. In constantly asking what we are supposed to be learning, we give ourselves a purpose. Often the deeper meaning is only revealed as we constantly return to an event, over and over again, going back over the details, seeing everything from a new angle each time we return.

It may not be clear at first just what it is that we are supposed to be learning today...

The gift of distance is the most important gift we are given as we recapitulate. The gift of time having passed offers us the additional gift of reflection from a new perspective because, each day as we live out our lives, we are different; we are inevitably changing. We are a day, a week, a year older and wiser. We are physically different too, as well as mentally and emotionally. Life’s unfolding itself offers us change, even if we are not able to see it clearly.

When the crows of recapitulation descend, when thoughts return to a recent event or a long past event, we are being asked to learn a valuable lesson. Can I be open to it? Can I suspend judgments about my self and others, so that I can reach a deeper meaning and understanding of what I am being offered?

Personally, I discover the intrinsic value of recapitulation more fully each day. In my last blog I wrote about the death of my beloved aunt at the age of 92. It was quite a day we had together. Now, a week later, as I reflect on that experience again I gain a new, deeper sense of what else was transpiring that day. I more clearly see now, in looking back, just what a journey it was.

In a shamanic sense, it was an incredible journey for both of us, but for me, personally, I have gained a level of clarity that I might otherwise not have accessed had I not continued to reflect. I now understand that my aunt was always an impeccable Shaman, present in my life as a teacher of the highest magnitude from the moment I was born. No matter what I presented her with, she never dismissed or doubted me, or my experiences. She was loving and tender, emotionally and compassionately supportive. Sharp and witty, never one to beat around the bush, she was also cuttingly direct when necessary. She taught me how to value experience, how to value the journeys that we all take, what it meant to care deeply about others, and finally she taught me how to leave this world without attachment.

We shared a lifetime of connection: in spending time together in deep conversation, in letter writing, in sharing books, in taking many walks together over the years, whether we were in New York City, the countryside or along the beaches picking up shells. And finally, we shared her dying process together. We were deeply, spiritually connected. Now I know more fully what that means.

At the same time that I accept this woman as a shamanic presence in my life, I must also accept other people in my life—those whom I feel less spiritually connected to—as shamans as well. I must accept that though these other persons may have been strict, withholding, even downright cruel, that they too have been Shaman teachers of the highest magnitude, leading me on my journey, teaching me invaluable lessons. Though presented in a different fashion, the lessons taught by the tricksters, devils, and disconnected journeyers are no less important than those taught to us by the soul mates, angels and spiritually connected journeyers we meet and travel through our lives with.

By constantly recapitulating the events of the past few weeks, I have recapitulated my way to a greater understanding of life itself. This is the ultimate gift of recapitulation. What I know today that I didn’t fully grasp a week ago, is what the Shamans tell us, and what the Buddhists tell us: that we are all Shamans and we are all Buddhas. I now understand more deeply what the Shamans mean when they talk about dreaming and what the Buddhists mean when they tell us that all worlds are interconnected, and that is, that we are all dreaming the same dream; awake or asleep, alive or dead.

Eventually our deep reflection will lead to greater clarity...

And now I can see how I flowingly embraced and proceeded on a journey with my aunt through her final days, taking up the intent she set, as it was presented to me each day. In retrospect, I see how seamlessly her agenda flowed. I learned so much from this Shaman teacher, as she asked me to face each challenge as it arose, personal and otherwise. Synchronistically tapping into her intent, I was asked to perform and facilitate things I could never have dreamed of. In so doing, I learned how to flow with the energy in the universe, going into our interconnected dream world without fear and without attachment, knowing that it was right, that life was flowing as it should.

In facing my fears and challenges—in everyday life and in recapitulating—I have learned so many lessons about the people I encounter every day. In reflecting on life from this newly gained, greater clarity, I conclude: You are all Shamans on shamanic journeys. You are all Buddhas seeking enlightenment. You are all teaching lessons to everyone else you meet—in how you live and learn your own lessons—just as they are teaching you.

As the crows of recapitulation swoop in, it’s important to remember that they are carrying our most valuable life lessons on their broad wings, in their strong beaks and in their sharp claws. If we can withstand their presence, listen to their messages, step back and reflect on the meaning of what they show us, we eventually gain access to the clarity that deep inner work affords us.

And once we have learned our lessons for the day we are free to turn and walk away from the crows, free for the moment, until they reappear another day with new lessons for us to learn. And then, without fear and without attachment, we are challenged to ask once again, most humbly: What am I supposed to learn today?

Noticing the crows,
Jan

A Day in a Life: A Clandestine Meeting

“Is this a clandestine meeting?” my elderly aunt asked me when I arrived at her hospital bed yesterday morning.

“Yes, it is,” I said, and we laughed.

We had spoken the night before. She was ready to move on, done with this world, in her 93rd year eager and happy, contented and determined.

“Will you see me through?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, “I’ll see you through.”

So began a process that we both knew had begun eons ago, lifetimes ago, not clandestine in the usual sense of the word, but more like a final meeting that we both knew was meant to be fulfilled. Not only had we conversed over the past few years and weeks about her death, but we both knew that we had been a part of each other’s lives many times before. There was no doubt that we had sat at each other’s deathbeds before, prepared to “see the other through.”

The woodpecker came to visit this morning, that most determined of birds who drums the heartbeat of life itself, including new life.

The day began with determination and focus. She was ready and the mission was begun. We went over everything together, making sure that she knew what to expect as we took her off the machines, and that all of her wishes were attended to. She thanked her body for being such a pleasant and steady vehicle her entire life, letting it know that it would be handled with respect when she left it behind. We talked about the dying process as like being born. In fact, this had been our conversation for many weeks. She had called me the night before.

“Why can’t I die?” she pleaded.

“Well, I’m going to be very straightforward with you. You are dying,” I said, reminding her of what we had spoken about. “You are in the process. You are going through the labor of dying just like you once went through the labor of being born. Your body remembers it even if you don’t. It will happen, you are already on your way. It takes patience and release.”

“Okay,” she said. “Thank you.”

We talked about her diving in and swimming into the light and not looking back or getting distracted. She was thankful for an image that she could work with as she lay dying.

“I’m ready to swim into the light,” she said when our preparatory talk was done, and so began her final journey on this earth.

In a most profound experience we spent the next twelve hours together, both of us going in and out of worlds. She spoke a few last wishes and then relaxed into the process. A few relatives came and went, the priest came and gave her final rites. We prayed for her. The prayers of my Catholic childhood, not spoken in many years, came easily to my tongue, spoken for her, a devout Catholic. I prayed for her in my own way too throughout the day, the things we had already spoken of: that her journey be peaceful, joyous, and happy, that she leave this world and its worries behind and go freely now.

I had told her that I would see her as far as I could, but then she would have to take over.

She nodded, and then asked, “When?”

“You’ll know,” I said, “when you’re ready.”

“Okay,” she said, and that was all we needed to agree on; we would both know when the time was right. I bent down and whispered in her ear, giving her encouragement throughout the day, until I felt my job was done. Then I let go of her hand and sat back.

Chuck came and joined me in the evening. We sat beside her together as she breathed her last breath. We experienced her energy calmly leaving her body, not looking back, her spirit freed, swimming right into the light.

We all have a clandestine meeting with death. My aunt knew this. She was well prepared, unafraid, looking forward to the journey. Today I feel her having that experience, as profoundly and fully as we had our experience together yesterday.

I too will one day swim into the light, and I look forward to going as peacefully and with as much dignity as my aunt did yesterday. I thank her for allowing me to be part of her long journey in this life and I wish her Godspeed on her new journey in infinity.

Jan

See also Chuck’s blog: Here Comes The Judge, on the same subject.

A Day in a Life: Get What You Want

Be careful what you wish for…you might just get it! This phrase has been going around in my thoughts for weeks now. It has been echoed by Mick Jagger’s voice, singing:

“No, you can’t always get what you want
But if you try sometime, you just might find
You get what you need”

The other night, I dreamt of flying over the Valley of Death, a dark landscape of half-exposed corpses stuck in a black bog, thousands of them rotting away in the stagnant scene below me. From my perspective I did not perceive the rotting corpses as horrifying or nightmarish, but as a natural consequence of being human. At one time I might have startled awake, shaking in fright, but this time I calmly noted: “Yes, our bodies will become like that, corpses rotting in a bog when we no longer need them. They are carcasses that will one day reside in the black Valley of Death, but our spirits will live on.” Indeed, as I thought this my dreaming spirit heard a voice that said: “Go toward the light, turn always toward the light.”

I know that once the body’s work is done, we must leave it behind and, without attachment, go into new life.

One outlook

The Buddhists and the Shamans alike suggest that we create our own reality. If we focus only on negativity, in thought alone, we keep ourselves stuck in negativity. Negativity and negative entities will attach to us, as we become feeding grounds where they know they will find sustenance. We actually compound the situation, bringing more on ourselves, one bad event leading to another as we energetically attach to crisis upon crisis. If we constantly bemoan our state of affairs, crying that our lives are terrible, that nothing goes right for us, that only bad comes to us, then that is what we will get.

I have experienced this myself. In fact, I once believed that I had to accept everything that came to me. “I can handle anything, good or bad,” I said to the universe, feeling powerful, “bring it on!” But one day I got fed up. “I’m sick of bad,” I said, “I only want good now!” And with that simple though hard-earned declaration things began to change significantly for the better. My whole outlook on life began to change too as a result of a new, more positive attitude.

As good began to arrive in my life, the negative slunk away. I learned in the process how to accept goodness from the universe, from others, and, most significantly, from myself. I softened and began to learn how to love myself. I learned the lessons of the Buddhists and Shamans: that I am largely responsible for the world I live in, in fact, that I create it.

Another perspective

In asking for good, I also had to confront what that meant. I got what I needed to propel me forward as I reconnected with my spirit and listened to the truths it told me. I had to leave a lot of my old life behind, leave it to rot in the Valley of Death, without regret and resentment. Those were some very challenging times, but they were also the most transformative times of my life as well.

The biggest challenge of that transformative period, during which I did my recapitulation, was learning how to face myself and my life lived without fixating on having been bad. I learned what it meant to be without judgment. I learned that everything that had happened in my life was necessary. I had to get to the point where I could view everything from a different perspective, as I did in my dream the other night, and clearly see how everything fit together, how everything was meaningful and significant and absolutely necessary for me to get where I am now.

As I turned away from the Valley of Death in my dream and looked into the light all around me, I knew that our spirits always seek the light. They seek what lies beyond the negative, nightmarish outlook we tend to attach to with fear. In the light there is no fear.

If we shift our focus, as the Buddhists and Shamans suggest, to focus on the light, the darkness will shrink away from us. If we change our thoughts to thoughts of joy and peace, love and kindness, as we reject the entities that seek to siphon our energy, we will begin to understand the necessity of their presence in the first place. Shifting our perspective begins with closely and honestly looking at our fears. Rather than focus on them as frightening, and on the Valley of Death as a horrible outcome, we must question the meaning of such symbols in our lives. Where are they leading us? What are they showing us? What are they trying to tell us? Eventually, as we face the darkness within ourselves with curiosity rather than fear, the darkness without will sense our disinterest. It will loosen its hold on us, and our attachment to it will diminish as well.

A whole new viewpoint

We may not be able to control how our lives unfold, but we can certainly control how we react. We create our world with our thoughts and what we choose to attach to, but there will come a time when our spirit will ask us to shift our perspective and it will be up to us alone to accept responsibility for doing so.

Accepting responsibility for our lives is perhaps one of our biggest challenges. We may spend a lot of time blaming others, blaming our circumstances, the raw deal we got, the universe colluding against us from the moment of birth. But living life that way, steeped in victimhood, gets pretty stale after a while. Eventually, we learn that our life will not change if we do not make a move on our own behalf.

Today, I wish that joy and peace may be yours, that goodness may come your way, that your thoughts may turn positive, that you may turn toward the light, and that self-nurturing healing and transformation may always be yours,

Jan