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.
I sit in stillness. I sit in nature. I breathe in the colored threads of the morning sun’s energy. I listen to the sounds of nature. Nothing overpowers. Nothing stands out. Nature sings in harmony. The Peewee calls, the woodpecker knocks on the trunk of a tall tree, a dog barks, a lover asks a gentle question. The cicadas vibrate the air, merging their energy and sending it along the same interconnected threads that I breathe in. I quietly take it all in. I am peaceful in this moment.
I am innerly focused, far from the world’s wars, conflicts, worries and troubles. In this moment of harmony with nature I forget that there are political, financial, social, environmental issues, that there is illness and disease, that there are struggles and hardships aplenty. In this moment I am at peace.
It is a day for me to stay connected in this way, to let the world go for a few hours, to listen to the sounds around me and simply be harmoniously present. It really isn’t that hard to do once the intent is set.
As I sit in the warm morning light I notice that all is well, that Mother Nature likes us to be this way, in harmony, part of the symphony that sings, chirps, breathes together. This is where we should be every day of our lives, but how can we when there is so much else to worry about, tend to, play along with.
I feel the urgent call of Mother Nature, asking us to more fully accept the truth of our existence on earth, that we are just one of the harmonizers. We seek to sing our solos, but in reality when we are too self-centered and demanding we interrupt the natural balance, the natural harmony. In reality we are just one in a chorus of all the voices of nature.
In her book, Silent Spring, Rachel Carson wrote: “The history of life on earth has been a history of interaction between living things and their surroundings. To a large extent, the physical form and the habits of the earth’s vegetation and its animal life have been molded by the environment. Considering the whole span of earthly time, the opposite effect, in which life actually modifies its surroundings, has been relatively slight. Only within the moment of time represented by the present century has one species–man–acquired significant power to alter the nature of his world.”
Take a day, or even two or three, in nature. Just be. Just be part of it, in harmony.
I write again about the process of recapitulation, the process that has changed my own life from one of fear—bound by feelings of inadequacy leading to resistance to fully experiencing what life has to offer—to one of fully embracing life.
Recapitulation frees us from the promises and vows we made as children, whether consciously decided upon or placed upon us by others. In my own case, as an extremely sensitive and withdrawn child with little self-esteem, if anyone told me something I immediately believed it and took it on. I was told that I could not sing and so I rarely opened my mouth, when in fact I have a nice singing voice. I was told I could not dance and so I rarely danced, when in fact I can indeed dance in my own fashion. In Taisha Abelar’s book The Sorcerer’s Crossing, her teacher Clara says the following:
“…as children, we often make vows and then become bound by those vows, even though we can no longer remember making them.”
“Such impulsive pledges can cost us our freedom…”
“…vows, oaths and promises bind our intent, so that from then on, our actions, feelings and thoughts are consistently directed toward fulfilling or maintaining those commitments regardless of whether or not we remember having made them.”
If we ponder where we first heard some of the beliefs we hold so tightly to about ourselves and question their truths, we may find that they are indeed true statements that we must accept in order to move on in life or that they are far from true. The process of recapitulation enables us to gain clarity, so that we can move on, freed of ideas of the self that hold us back from leading fulfilling lives.
Taisha goes on to say that “[Clara] advised me to review, during the recapitulation, all the promises I had ever made in my lifetime, especially the ones made in haste or ignorance or faulty judgement. For unless I deliberately retrieved my intent from them, it would never rise freely to be expressed in the present.”
In Taisha’s case she had to confront the truth that she was not loved by her family, and her mother specifically: “It was your fate not to be loved by your family. Accept it!” Clara says to her quite bluntly.
As an example, Clara goes on to explain to Taisha some of her own history:
“I too had a problem very much like yours…I was always aware of being a friendless, fat, miserable girl, but through recapitulating I found out that my mother had deliberately fattened me up since the day I was born. She reasoned that a fat, homely girl would never leave home, and she wanted me there as her servant for life.”
“I went to my teacher, who was definitely the greatest teacher one can ever have, for advice about this problem,” she went on. “And he said to me, ‘Clara, I feel for you, but you are wasting your time because then was then: now is now. And now there is only time for freedom.”
It may sound too easy and too simplistic to just accept and move on and indeed that is not what Clara is asking of Taisha. She is asking her to confront her bitter truths by recapitulating their sources, by reducing herself to her child self again in order to relive the moments of greatest pain, when intents were set that controlled and inhibited her from fully expressing herself and exploring her fuller potential. If we remain bound by ideas placed on us as children we might never grow up, mature into responsible adults, or evolve into acceptance of our greater potential both as human beings and as energy beings capable of far more than meets the eye in our everyday reality.
When Clara tells Taisha that “You have only time to fight for freedom, Taisha…Now is now,” she is asking her to investigate the possibility that it might just be okay to reinvent herself at each confrontation with the truths and the untruths of old, by staying in the present, knowing that there is no time to waste.
Life will not wait for us. It greets us every moment of every day, yet we must consciously, and with awareness, greet it in return, tackling what it presents us with, decisively and with impunity, intent upon learning what our own truths might be, not what someone else has decided for us. From the perspective of now, we are offered daily opportunities to dig for our deepest underlying truths. If we can hold onto our awareness of being independent beings, with our deeper knowing of what it means to be human held in highest regard—that we are energy beings at our core, that our lives here are meant for evolutionary purposes—we can allow ourselves to embrace the fact that it is always our choice to break out of the webbing placed over us a long time ago, and repeatedly placed over us as we live out our lives.
When we recapitulate we must pose many challenges to ourselves, along with those placed on us daily by life itself. We must dare to break our old allegiances, our old pacts, and question every thought, idea, and belief that arises. We must challenge ourselves to change every tiny detail about ourselves if that is what will lead us on to becoming our true selves.
We must ask ourselves many questions as we recapitulate. Are we ready to discover and embrace our truths and become someone new, someone unrecognizable to those who once knew us in the past? Do we dare go beyond the old beliefs that have held us captive? What will happen if we sing and dance when we were once told we could not? What happens if we tell ourselves that we are beautiful, not fat and friendless, as Clara did? What happens when we admit to ourselves that our family did not love us, as Taisha did? Well, nothing happens except an enormous sense of freedom!
Now is now, and I choose to live now. I hope you do too! It’s really the only place to be: living in the moment. I have found the only means of getting here, to this moment, is by taking a personal inner journey of recapitulation.
Sending love as you take your journeys, embraced with intent for good recapitulations to freedom,
Jan
Excerpts from The Sorcerer’s Apprentice are from pages 117-118.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about the human form as an intricate permaculture, from a holistic point of view containing everything we need to be healthy in mind, body and soul if we can keep our living world of the self—psyche, soma and spirit—in good balance. If we think of our body self as a biological unit and tend to it as we wish all people to appreciate, respect, and treat the earth, we may discover that we have the power to maintain not only a healthy persona, but the power to do anything we set our intent to. In fact, we humans are multifaceted, multilayered beings, not simply one size fits all, living organisms as deep as the oceans, as varied as the earth’s crusts, and as expansive as the universe. We are very complicated beings.
Everyone feels that they are different on the inside than they are on the outside. We may present one side of ourselves to the world, the safely prepared and carefully honed ego self but keep our inner self private, as is appropriate. When we delve deeper into the world of the inner self, exploring the layers of the unconscious, we discover that we are more elaborately constructed than at first suspected.
What follows is an excerpt from my upcoming book The Recapitulation Diaries: The Man in the Woods, year one of a three-year shamanic journey through my own multifaceted self. During my recapitulation I discovered that, by intent, I could volitionally experience more than one world simultaneously. I was reminded of the following experience from nine years ago by the violent thunder, rain, and lightning storm that barreled through our area last night. It feels appropriate to post it in this blog.
Entering another world
It’s thundering and lightning and I’m sitting on my bed in my room at night in the dark, surrounded by windows on three sides. I begin doing the recapitulation magical pass, the sweeping breath. Lightning flashes and thunder cracks loudly as I sweep my head back and forth, back and forth, breathing in my own energy and passing out my abuser’s negative energy. The flashing of the lightning and the crashing of the thunder accompany me as I sweep my head back and forth. The rain beats against the windows and the winds whip as the tremendous storm pounds out its flashing, drumming rhythms.
In the dark haziness of my room I’m aware of a scene off to the left and slightly in front of me. The silhouette of a seated figure on top of a mountain ledge appears, clearly discernable through the rain that is pounding down in torrents on this scene, remarkably like the storm raging outside. I’m aware that I am both sitting in my room at this moment and that I am also that figure sitting on the ledge and that I should go to that mountaintop.
Suddenly I’m no longer just sitting on my bed. I am also in ancient times, sitting on the ledge of a cliff, overlooking a vast valley in the dark of night, on a promontory sticking out into air, into the storm raging all around me. I am aware of the presence of others behind me in the shelter of a cave, but it’s my time to sit in the elements, to brave the forces of nature, to unflinchingly allow myself to sit exposed, unprotected, but fully aware that I have within me the strength and courage to sit here for as long as it takes, until I’m done with this challenge.
The storm rages and someone places a rough-woven, thick woolen blanket over my head and shoulders. This is allowed, the blanket is woven with symbols and icons that will protect and provide me with added strengths. I am a native woman, a tribal woman on a journey. Meanwhile, I am still in my bedroom, sitting on my bed doing the sweeping breath, breathing in and out, sweeping my head from side to side, the storm continuing to drum as I ride its energy.
Back on the ledge, I become the storm; I breathe it in and out. The thunder, the lightning, the darkness, the earth, the stone ledge I sit upon become one with me. I am earth and sky, water and sound, light and dark. I am journeying and yet sitting solidly at the same time, both on the ledge and on my bed simultaneously. I am strong, committed to taking this journey without fear and without regret. I know this is my duty, my destiny, and my challenge, but also the fulfillment of my shamanic line. I am completing my tests of worthiness and humbleness before all the gods of nature. I am testing my inner strengths, while acknowledging those sitting behind me as my guides. In full awareness I am marking this moment of my journey, knowing that this is part of my process, trusting all I have experienced in the past, all I am experiencing at this moment, and all that is to come as necessary, if I am to evolve.
Suddenly I am taken into the belly of the storm. I leap into its mouth, I sit upon its tongue, I swallow its saliva, I feel the beat of its pulse, I tremble with the rumble of its heart, and I withstand the blinding light of its intent. I am its apprentice at the same time that I acknowledge its power as my own, simultaneously humbly grateful for it and daringly accepting of it.
When it’s done, when the storm subsides, I am spat out of its mouth. As the winds die down, as the thunder rumbles off into the distance and as the rains slow to a drizzle I find myself back upon the ledge where I have been sitting for days, still under my blanket, now damp on the outside though warm and dry in the inside. My guides come out of the cave. They lift me by my arms, steadying me upon my feet. Helping me to walk upon my wobbly legs, they take me with them into the warmth and dryness of the cave where they have kept a fire going.
“Well done. You have done well,” I hear them say.
As I finish my recapitulation breath magical pass the storm ceases, the thunder rumbles off into the distance and the lightning quiets to intermittent flashes. The mountaintop scene where I have just journeyed disappears from my room. I’m still sitting on my bed, fully aware of having been in two places at once, having gone on a journey of significance into an ancient experience while expelling alien energy from my current body self. Though I’m not sure what it means I come away with a greater understanding of my self as wholly in alignment with the greater universe.
I also now know that my inner strength and determination are solidified, firmly aligned with my spirit and with my greater intent to continue trusting this shamanic recapitulation process that I have been allowing myself to take. I also know that I am indeed just beginning my journey, a journey of humbleness and awe, of inner self constantly being asked to make adjustments, to nonjudgmentally acquiesce to the process, to stay in alignment with what comes to guide. In addition, by constantly pushing myself to keep taking the inner journey, I have found that true self and innocence are completely compatible, trustworthy, reliable, and viable, no matter what world I might find myself in. I am indeed on a magical journey!
On Monday I channeled a message from Jeanne about learning to flow. Using a water metaphor she instructed in how to meet the challenges in life head on rather than allowing them to overtake. That night I had the following dream:
Learning to flow...
I’m with Chuck in a large, sprawling ancient city, Rome perhaps. There is very little vegetation in the city proper; everything is manmade. There are large plazas and stone structures, huge buildings of light colored sandstone, gigantic columns, streets covered in large planks of a similar light colored sandstone. The city is beginning to flood.
We are out walking before dawn, aware of the coming flood. We can actually see it coming from a distance as we stand on an elevated plaza overlooking the city and the valleys beyond. As we walk, the water begins to rise, swirling around our ankles. We see a tidal wave beginning to form, making its way in between the buildings of the city. The tidal wave quickly takes shape and overtakes us.
We begin swimming. I see three people in the water ahead of us, the only other people in this seemingly deserted or still sleeping city. They are dressed in evening clothes; a man in a tuxedo and two women is short black evening dresses. The tidal wave hits them and they go under. I can see from my vantage point that they are not taking the situation seriously. Tired after a night out, they are still in a boisterous mood, unaware of the power and danger of the water.
I take my attention off them as I struggle to swim. For some reason I can only get my left arm out of the water, the right hanging useless beside me. I can barely lift my head out of the water and it’s a struggle to breathe. I’m aware of Chuck swimming strongly behind me and I want to keep up with him, not slow our progress. I can feel his encouraging energy and I want to show him that I can do this, that I’m a strong swimmer too. I lift my heavy left arm out of the water over and over again, trying to swim, flapping like a bird with only one wing. It’s cumbersome and frustrating and I’m not getting anywhere.
I don’t feel panic or fear. I don’t sense imminent danger or death, but I do know that we must flow with the water, that we cannot let it overtake us as the threesome in evening dress are doing. I’m aware that they are still floundering in the water up ahead of us when suddenly I flip over onto my back, without even thinking about it, and now I can swim! Both arms are functioning beautifully. I take long and swift strokes, my chest expanding and opening. I’m breathing easily, deeply, and comfortably by swimming in this manner. Effortlessly I glide along, fast and strong. I can also hear Chuck picking up speed behind me as we take off in the water. I’m amazed at how simple it is, how easily I’m flowing along now, loving it, when a moment before I was struggling to move my arm and take a breath. I am now in totally right alignment with my body and the water.
Next, in a second dream, we go to a friend’s house. Her ceiling is leaking. She has had someone come and look at it and the diagnosis is that nothing is wrong with the roof. I ask her if she trusts the guy because to me it’s very obvious that something is seriously wrong. We stand in her kitchen while the water pours down. It’s as if we’re standing outside in a heavy downpour.
I turn to Chuck and whisper: “I think she just doesn’t want to face the truth that there is a problem. Tired of having so much to deal with, she’s electing to ignore what’s so obvious. She’s almost insisting that her roof is not leaking.”
“People can ignore things for a long time. Eventually they get there. She’ll get there,” he says, as we leave her to resolve her issues in her own manner and in her own time.
My dreams ended there, but meanwhile, Chuck was dreaming right beside me, of slipping on a steep icy mountain slope. On the eve of the summer solstice and cusp of the water sign of Cancer—the night after Jeanne had guided us to learn to flow, using a water metaphor—we both dreamed of water. My dreams were of water in liquid form, feminine energy, as I see it; while Chuck dreamed of water in its solid form, ice, masculine energy. In his dream he too did not feel fear or danger, only the process of trying to figure out how best to navigate the slippery slope. We both had to figure out how to flow with what we were presented with, all in keeping with Jeanne’s message of learning to flow rather than float, taking charge rather than being overwhelmed, overtaken, or simply ignoring the truth of what is happening.
I see, in my own dream, the struggle of my ego, wanting to keep up with Chuck, and wanting to show off. For a long time I have envisioned my right side as my ego self. I’ve had many experiences of this, a true fact as I now see it. In this first dream, this right side, my human earthly self, is compromised. My left side, which I consider my spirit self is struggling. I am dreaming and in my energy body so my ego, my right side, does not function properly, yet my ego is making the decisions. Suddenly spirit, my energy body, usurps ego. It flips over and it is only then that I am in total sync, dream and energy body in alignment. This was a moment of enlightenment for me, when Jeanne’s message made even deeper sense, showing me the greater meaning of spirit in alignment with circumstances that are beyond our control.
These dreams were dreams of awareness, yet there was also another part of the deeper self in operation, offering guidance: the ancient deserted city perhaps suggesting this ancient self in my dream and the mountain in Chuck’s dream implying the same. Both Chuck and I did not struggle with the circumstances, either with worry or attachment, but we dealt only with the immediate process of how best to navigate the situation, how best to flow.
This attitude of flowing was contrasted by the second dream I had, of my friend, indicative of the tired ego self not wanting to deal with yet another catastrophe, another problem. In choosing to ignore the water pouring into her house, she offers us the same insight that the three partiers from my first dream suggest, that we can get overtaken and swept under by the force of nature taking its natural course. How long do we really want to do that? How long do we want to allow the ego, tired or inflated, to be in control? How long are we going to struggle before we shift ourselves into a more comfortable swimming stroke? For as long as we need to, as Chuck suggests, but eventually, as he also suggests, people get where they need to get.
I think it’s funny that Chuck and I lay side by side and dreamed a balanced sort of composite dream, the masculine and feminine actually in sync, attempting to get it right, both equally focused on seeking the means of flowing, in alignment with what we were presented with by Mother Nature.
Ever since I was a girl and started carrying Stalking the Wild Asparagus around in my backpack I have been on the hunt for the illusive wild asparagus. Eureka! I’ve finally found it! I’ve been passing it for years probably, but the other morning my attention was caught by a large and beautiful plant, its color and wispy fronds reminding me of the vibrancy of the early morning and the energy of all things.
“Wow! That’s a wild asparagus!” I exclaimed, without a hint of doubt. It was as if I always knew what it looked like and it was just sitting there waiting for me to recognize it.
Here is a picture I took of it, and here is some of what Mr. Gibbons wrote about the wild asparagus. He first discovered it as a twelve-year-old school boy while living in New Mexico, and it wasn’t until he was a middle-aged man and living in Pennsylvania that he found it again.
Wild Asparagus
“The edible tips and spears, in which we are chiefly interested, appear long before the asparagus puts on its summer finery, and they must be located by that drab, old, last year’s stalk. My neighbors often smile when they see me by the roadside with my asparagus knife and pail. They think it is much simpler to merely buy the asparagus one wants at the supermarket. But I have a secret they don’t know about. When I am out along the hedgerows and waysides gathering wild asparagus, I am twelve years old again, and all the world is new and wonderful as the spring sun quickens the green things into life after a winter’s dormancy. Now do you know why I like wild asparagus?” –From Stalking the Wild Asparagus by Euell Gibbons, page 31.
