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Relationship

Another Day In Paradise

 For most people on this planet, 11/11/2011 will be just another day of routine chores. The commute to work, the myriad modest tasks that call for our attention. We will  hasten about the minutiae of our daily lives, not pausing to gaze skywards at the glittering stars or to marvel at the moon tonight, as she spreads her numinous milky shawl, bringing magic and mystery to the landscape.

For most people on this planet, this new day will involve finding sufficient food, water, a safe shelter before nightfall. As a world financial crisis looms, this day many people will face bedrock fear about physical survival.

11/11/11 has been heralded in blogs and movies as a day of foreboding, as we indulge our perverse addiction to drama and the horror of death and oblivion.  

For others, today is a day to meditate, to pray, to acknowledge that this day has special significance for our planet.

Many of us live divided lives. Longing for fulfilment in our work, more passion in our relationships, more depth in our friendships, more money, love, and eternal youth. We strain against what IS. We neglect our own natures and yearn for some ideal of perfection, somewhere over the rainbow….Modern psychology and allopathic medicine attempt to redeem us from the messiness of our lives, to fix, cut out, remove those things that cause us pain. Those unhealthy compulsions, painful choices that make us fully human, in all our complexity and in all our suffering. So maybe today we can be fully where we are. Working at our daily tasks no matter how mundane and humble they may be, entering our Fate and honouring the ebb and flow of our emotions, so that we can fully savour our brief lives, in the dappled light and the terrifying shadows.

The astrological chart for 11:11am in Cape Town on November 11th 2011 places the Lord of Karma, stern Saturn, ruler of the Ascendant conjunct the Midheaven. This represents a pinnacle, a time of responsibility and duty, a culmination of what has come before.  In other places, the event chart will reflect a different sky story. In the microcosm of our personal lives, this might suggest that 11/11/11 is a day to reflect on our life direction and the choices we make from moment to moment. The Full Moon in the sign of earthy Taurus yesterday, trail-blazed a solid grounded, realistic energy that echoes my feeling that today we need to honour the simple things in our lives. Come down to earth in some symbolic way. Perhaps we might see the beauty in the smallest things that make this world a paradise of delights if we choose to perceive it in this way. So you may wish to take some time today to marvel at a jewel dewdrop on a blade of grass, or breathe in the fragrance of a flower. And “to see a world in a grain of sand, and a heaven in a wild flower, hold infinity in the palm of your hand, and eternity in an hour,” as mystic and poet, William Blake inspires us to do.

Our ancestors were star gazers, who observed the cycles of the planets and the Sun and Moon. Astrologers use these celestial time markers to track the unfolding of our lives and world events. Pope Gregory XIII is credited for the reformation of the Julian calendar back in 1582. We use the Gregorian calendar in most parts of the world today, a system that marks time, in a linear manner. So 11/11/11 is just a number in a man-made system of ordering the passage of time. We can choose to give it meaning, or not. “Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.” Freud is purported to have said. So, for some,  11/11/2011 will be just another day in the wheel of the year, in the saga of an individual life, in the colourful  tapestry of human history, as  “we come spinning out of nothingness, scattering stars like dust” (Rumi).

If we choose to be in this moment, in this precious day, today will be like a birthday, an anniversary, a holy day, to celebrate in the knowing that long after our bones have disintegrated and we are without form, there will be an unceasing pulse of life in this vast universe, in a timeless space without beginning and without end.  “The clouds preceded us… there was a muddy centre before we breathed. There was a myth before the myth began, venerable and articulate and complete,” writes the poet Wallace Stevens.

Rumi said that “only from the heart can you touch the sky”, so in gathering together to pray or meditate, or to light a candle as a ritual to set a heart-felt intention, there will be, as Noetic scientist, John Hagelin, describes a profound shift in a field of pure, unlimited, creative potential. This will ripple through the quantum field and influence our individual lives and our planet in powerfully positive ways. So today, I will honour the brevity of life here on earth, the miraculous joy of a synchronistic meeting of a kindred spirit, and the comfort of knowing we are never alone.

Gone “viral” on the internet – watch and be inspired! Murmuration: http://vimeo.com/31158841

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_f7WyUnf_A8  Phil Collins sings Another Day In Paradise.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sghNjGaDbJ0 Johnny Clegg, It’s a Cruel, Crazy, Beautiful World.

 

 

4

I Wonder

 “I know he still loves me,” my friend with the luminous green eyes declares, deftly lifting her sashimi with ebony-varnished chopsticks.

We can never know what is going on inside someone’s head. We can wonder. We can make up stories, soothe, or torment ourselves with assumptions and lies. The best we can do is to visit their world, invite them to share their thoughts and perceptions with us. Listen with our hearts; even though we may not agree with what they are saying, we can imagine what it must be like, living in their world. We can savour the fragrant dishes of their experiences, vicariously visit the library of their memories, and embrace the wonder of our uniqueness as human beings. Rupert Sheldrake, Lynne McTaggart, Bruce Lipton, Greg Braden, and other prophets of new consciousness talk of a new science of Life. Sheldrake talks of Morphic Resonance, Gregg Braden refers to a  “Divine Matrix” that surrounds us all. A  matrix of energy without beginning or end, no cause or effect.  On some level we all sense that field of energy when we enter a home, walk into an office or visit a sacred site. You may feel it between the couple you invite to share a meal with you. A field of energy that lies between them – warm and connected, or heavy with unshed tears, or seething with anger and the bitterness of betrayal.

So, if we come from a lineage of ancestors who lived in dire poverty in a war ravaged valley, we have a blueprint, a template, that life is hard and dangerous. Our sponsoring thought, as Neale Donald Walsch calls it, may be that money is scarce, strangers are not to be trusted, and we are unworthy of being loved in our totality. If we are unwilling to consciously shift this consciousness, we will keep doing what we’re doing, and keep getting what we’re getting. The story my friend tells herself (unconsciously) is that she is not worthy of Love. She seeks out the married man, the boy-man with Will Never Commit invisibly tattooed on his forehead.

I do not believe in the old model of Nature/ Nurture any longer. Too simplistic, as we cross the threshold into this new paradigm, this new awareness of our unlimited potential to change our perception of what we see around us. The Field where we meet each other on our journey through this life time is the Universal hammock where we writhe or lie, enraptured by the magnificence and Divine potential of each human being to Greatness. Says Neale Donald Walsch, “It’s time, in fact, to re-create ourselves anew – in the next grandest version of the greatest vision we ever held about who we are.” The astrological birth chart depicts The Field, and the transits and progressions, our evolving consciousness, if we choose to meet each other there, to truly listen, and take action.

As science converges with the wisdom of the shamans and sages, we now know that what we think is “true” is seen through a glass, darkly.

If we believe that all our relationships are simply our perceptions, that the stories we tell ourselves about the Other, and the thoughts that torment, or soothe, are our own imaginings, and that “life is but a dream”, then we can exhale. What we think about the other person may not be their truth at all.  

The Trompe-l’œil of relationships, the subtle ambiguities, the mystery of the human heart, continues to intrigue me.  What is real? It depends upon our perception. Did those doomed men and women of the Americas really not see the tall death ships of the Conquistadors as they sailed close to shore? Or were they great butterflies, harbingers of a new Messiah? We can wonder.  And we will never know what they were thinking, and like all of his-story, we can make up the stories that suit our perceptions, as well as those of the place and time we’re living in.

My beautiful friend knows he still loves her. I wonder, don’t you?

Sixto RodriguezI Wonder

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fMHdq4jm0oQ

0

No More I Love Yous

Love never dies when soul meets soul. Our souls never stop loving the significant people who appear as actors in the various scenes in the play of our lives. Because once we ignite the flame of love, no matter how briefly, or how fiercely, devastatingly, that flame burns and chars, Love endures, long after we part, long after we die.

I met my former husband for lunch yesterday. He appeared taller, younger, and happier than I have seen him in  years. “She’s the One,” he said, eyes sparkling. “I’m going to ask her to marry me.” Still sprinkled with the glitter of his happiness, I left this man I had lived with for 26 years, my heart a – bloom with flowers of joy for him, for her. There are never No More I Love Yous. The container of marriage may fracture and break under the avalanche of an affair, a cot death, an intrusive in-law. Love affairs are extinguished not with a bang but a whimper, realtionships stagnate as the current of passion dwindles to a trickle. Even in the No More I love Yous, are small seeds of renewal.  There are really no “lessons” to be learnt so we do not make the same “mistake “again.  Our marriages are the holy sanctums for the in-breath and out-breath, the cycles, and twists, of our soul. From the moment we say our wedding vows, through all the in the years we may spend grinding off each others’ rough edges, even in the heartbreak and despair of the endings, are our soul’s rites of passage; our circling Home.

A divorce can be a sacred act of renewal, if we transcend the power plays, the anger,  discard the role of Victim.  Love can be transformed into a caring friendship if we are willing to step into Gratitude for all the memories, and experiences of our past, that have made us who we are today. When we are able to look into the eyes of our former tormentor-husband, wife, lover, mother, father, friend – and feel the lotus flower of compassion blossom in our heart, then we will know our own Wholeness. The ancient Greeks knew that Love wears interchangeable costumes: Agape meant the deepest sense of true love, that sense of contentment and mellowness, the holding of another in the highest regard. Eros was understood as  passionate love, sensual desire, and intimate love, which did not have to be sexual – it could be the power of beholding something beautiful within that person. Philia was the love of friendship we feel in community and family. So what is this thing, called Love? Even after death, divorce, frozen years of separation, the sacred vows reverberate. We may find, after the atomic fallout, the love we never dared admit, even to ourselves, is there still. We find a wedding photograph, a piece of jewellery, a gift given in the innocence of that love that carries a fragrance of sweet memory. There is remains a fragment of something noble and pure in the the vows we made all those years ago.

These days when I go to weddings, what I celebrate is the Hope that comes, an invited guest, to the bridal table. The noble belief in a love that will endure as the dark storm clouds gather on the horizon. First marriages are sprinkled with Hope and Great Expectations that we believe no man will tear asunder. Second and third marriages are more sober affairs. Jean Kerry said wryly, “being divorced is like being hit by a Mack truck. If you live through it, you start looking very carefully to the right and to the left.” We are not always wise in the choices we make. We do not always listen to our inner guidance. But in our fumbling, in our folly, in our delusions, will always be the seed of great passion and enduring love.

Says Marion  Woodman,  “real love happens when soul in the body meets soul in the body. Not in that disembodied world of spirit where we want to be perfect, but in life, where we’re changing the diapers of the one we love who is dying, swabbing the lips, doing things we never thought we could do. Stripped of all pride, of everything unreal, we have no false modesty. Where soul meets soul that is Love.”

How can there ever be No More I Love Yous when Love never dies. It simply changes form.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k5z7R-5Znoc

 

2

Nothing Compares

Nothing compares to the passion, pain, the alchemy of unrequited love. The obsessive love of an extraordinary relationship may quench our soul’s thirst for drama and intensity. It may be the conduit for the fantasy and the creative Muse that is lacking from the soft comfort of our daily lives. When soul meets soul across time and space, this is no aberration, no psychological projection, and no insane fantasy.

In the realm of the soul, falling in love with someone we see everyday at the office, connect with on Facebook, or meet by “chance” at the video store, is beyond the crassness of words, the literalism of psychology. It is a process of wonderous self-discovery. Each relationship that touches our soul leads us into dialogue with the Divine.  “The fiery moments of a passionate experience are moments of wholeness and totality,” Anais Nin says. We may smugly moralise about obsessive attractions, narcissistic impulses, selfish behaviour, or in psychological parlance, talk about “withdrawing projections,” as we find the qualities that draw us to adore the Beloved, are of course, within ourselves. All very white picket fence, manicured lawn.  Pleasantville.  Nothing compares to the white hot passion of erotic obsession. Nothing compares to the Phoenix Love that leads us into a deeper, more soulful life. What we feel in our hearts, in our bodies, cannot be captured by cliches, emblamed with words.

Erotic love is not to be demeaned as merely a projection for our unlived life, but  celebrated as  an Angel of Awakening to the Countenance of our boundless Imagination. Our soul hungers for the Beloved, and our imagination lures us into the fathomless ocean of desire embodied in the flesh.  The symbolism of astrological transits from the outer planets to personal ones often suggest that passionate obsessions are not aberrations to be caged or cauterised. They are the wings that carry us to a life of more connection, to an acceptance of Who we are. W.H Auden writes powerfully of the crooked heart in each one of us that we must confront when the firebird of passionate love blazes through the dark depths of our psyche: “O stand, stand at the window as the tears scald and start; you shall love your crooked neighbour with your crooked heart.”

Many of us are now experiencing a sense of living on the edge of a world on the brink of great change.  Like two tectonic plates, Pluto in earthy Capricorn squares off against Uranus in fiery Aries, a crucible of heated, irrevocable change in our lives, in society, in the way we embrace the urge towards authenticity.  The emergence of the new always coincides with the breakdown of the old, so be awake to the whispers, the coincidences, the power of attraction, the wild song of Passion in whatever form it appears in your life these coming months.

I watched The Bridges of Madison County (again) and cried (again) for Francesca and Robert, these middle-aged soul mates. I cried for the choice Francesca made to shackle her desire for Robert Kincaid to duty and responsibility. Throughout history, men and women have made heart-wrenching choices to honour duty above the authentic call of their soul. So many of us have been raised in family awash with the tears of unspoken secrets. Lovers kept hidden, passion doused by fear, authenticity shamed into submission. Says John O’Donahue, “your soul alone has the map of your future, therefore you can trust this indirect, oblique side of yourself.”

As Neptune swims into the deep waters of Pisces in February 2012, will we be willing to be still and listen to the passionate pieces of ourselves that call to us through music, poetry, the whisper of the wind? As we loosen the bonds of reason, will our souls ignite with delight in our Beloved who may be Clark Kent, Superman or Superwoman? Our  liquid light diamon that urges us to open our hearts, and sing our song.

What is your Passion, what calls you today to celebrate the Authentic You? “Passion is part of Real Life’s package – we were created by Love, for love, to love. If we’re unsure of our passions we must continue excavating until we rediscover them, for it we don’t give outward expression to our passions in little ways every day, we will eventually experience self-immolation – the spontaneous combustion of our souls,” says Sarah Ban Beathnach.

 http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x2cdyy_sinead-o-connor-nothing-compares-2_music   Sinead O’ Connor

 

4

White on White

 

Fairy Tale Weddings are compelling in their sentimental perfection. The flowers, cake,  months of meticulous preparation. The dress, tiara, spray-on tan, flowers in the button holes.

In our desire for the perfect wedding we so often find the golden apple of Discord. TheTrickster appears to knock the bouquet off the altar of tradition. The fainting bride, the lecherous uncle, the little page boy who squeals just as the vows are pronounced. A flaw in the perfection of the meticulously planned occasion that brings laughter, the prelude of a profound agitation of two entwined souls. Think back to your own wedding day. Was theTrickster at play? I was a guest at a beautiful wedding ceremony recently where there was a glitch in the sound system. No music at the wedding, and a brief, tumultous marriage, with no music to bring joy and levity into their troubled relational space.

Marriage is not a ritual or an end. It is a long, intricate, intimate dance together and nothing matters more than your own sense of balance and your choice of partner,” says Amy Bloom. There is a celestial line-up in relationship orientated Libra right now. The Sun and Saturn, spotlighting the importance of mature and committed relationships.  Inviting us to clarify, define, strengthen our identity by confronting us with limitations. Challenging us to grow up, make our dreams real. Commit to  honest self-appraisal, compromise, acceptance of reality.  

For me, the compelling mystery of Marriage is that it can flay and brand, or softly kiss our soul. It is through our sentimentality, our innocence, our insistence in the “happily ever after” and the romantic dream of the marriage made in heaven, that we meet the dark challenges that a soul-ful union will always toss, like a gauntlet, before us.  It is through the difficulties, often the sojourns in hell, that we refine the prima materia, the raw stuff of life, and learn the phases of Love in all their complexity. Like actors on a stage, bride and groom, play out the old scripts of the marriages before them. In their own lives, or in the matrix of their family history. Their unconscious roles as little children,  keeping warring parents apart,  holding psychic secrets, plugging the grief that spills under doors and carpets, the dissappointments, the frustrations, the bitterness. We hold this energy in the etheric, in our limbic and nervous systems, in the fascia of our bodies, and play it out with the men and women we marry. Our mother who married “to get out of the home,” our grandmother forced into wedlock before her belly ripened, our father who married “beneath him.”

Today, we think we have free choice in the men and women we wed. We believe we marry out of our own free will. In the West, we have inherited an ancient world view based on a biblical view that marriage is sacrosanct, in juxtaposition to the view of the ancient Greek philosophers and  French rationalists, where the right of the individual to happiness is enshrined. So we have the challenge of  delineating our personal identity within the structure and boundary of  marriage – a tangled web of roots that dig deep into our personal and collective history!

Marriages based on love are as fragile and fickle as the gossamer thread of love itself. Few of us thoroughly modern women need a partner to protect us physically, to provide for us financially, or to give us the social status of “married woman”. Many of us do not choose marriage to sanction the birthing of our babies, or to provide us with clan. We marry for love. Yet the cost of failed love can cleave hearts and families. Divorce is an emotional and economic apocalypse. No one walks away unscathed. There is always a great gaping hole and scar tissue in your heart, no matter how much you loathed the bastard. The dismemberment of divorce ranks next to the death of your spouse, as the most stressful event you will ever endure.

So if we marry for love, we gamble with the fragility of our hearts. As Mignon McLaughlin says, “a successful marriage requires falling in love many times, always with the same person.” On a metaphysical level, the ritual of Marriage is sacred. It is a rite of passage, through which we metamorphose into a deeper, more soulful self. We integrate the masculine and the feminine within; we discover that he or she is not the god/goddess we thought they were. We discover we cannot depend on our partner to make us whole, to love us forever and ever. Perhaps we could see marriage as a threshold into a mansion of self discovery. An archaeological dig into the layers of our ancestral past. A calabash that holds the milk of compassion and forgiveness for ourselves and for each other when we make mistakes, behave appallingly. Perhaps we ought not give up too soon, stand on our soap boxes pontificating about the flaws and weaknesses of the other. Perhaps we will learn to truly love one another and not make a  bond of marriage, but a circle of love that protects those who dwell within. “You were born together, and together you shall be forever more. You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days.”  Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet.

Remember Danny Williams from Port Elizabeth? Today he sings for us White on White

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=edmej2DOiLM&feature=related

 

4

And I love her

After spending three weeks in Mountjoy women’s prison Teresa Treacy, of Clonmore, is home. Her crime, her refusal to comply with High Court orders to allow power lines on her property which would, and did, ruin the beauty of the landscape, destroying tall trees. This act of courage and defiance has made this 65 year old woman a cause celebre in Ireland.

For me, Teresa symbolises the uncompromising Crone energy we must draw from our bellies if we are to live authentic lives in challenging times. I believe that in order to cross the threshold into the realm of the Crone, we as women, (and those men who have integrated the Feminine energy,) must experience a rite of passage, so that we may enter the sacred centre of the web of our lives, to learn what real Love is. Illness, divorce, death of a child or a partner, retrenchment, prison – tsunami times of intense physical or emotional suffering when the loss of our old identity becomes a psychic death. Times when we feel like utterly alone, floating in a fathomless ocean… no direction home.

How does it feel ?
Aw, how does it feel ?
To be on your own ?
With no direction home ?
Like a complete unknown ?
Like a rolling stone ? sang Dylan.

I saw an interview with 74 year old activist and feminist Jane Fonda. Breasts like Barbie’s, face taut, impossibly white, perfect teeth. She seemed brittle, very fragile, unmothered. Still hungry, unable to embrace the energy and quiet assurance of the mature feminine or the fierce wisdom of The Crone. The initiation into the wise woman archetype or Crone (which means “corona” meaning “crown”,)   lacks ritual and celebration in a world where we worship at the altar of  youth. Change is never easy. Most of us lack the support of community, or the mentorship of mature women to guide us over the crossroads through the dark forests and dangerous pathways. Mature Women to shake us firmly from our torpor, when we prick our fingers on the spindles and fall “asleep”. Our conversations are a timorous lament of our loss of youth. We sprinkle conversations with self-depreciating remarks – saggy breasts, stretch marks, flabby arms. We self-harm in our desperate attempts to stay sweet sixteen foolishly falling for the folly of Botox, HRT, face lifts.

Hollow-eyed beggars, starving for the crumbs of love. We’ve been fighting our bodies all our lives.  Marion Woodman describes the Crone cycle as a time of Crossroad, where we come eventually, to a place of deep surrender. “After a lifetime of trying to improve herself in order to become a “perfect” daughter, wife and mother, a woman’s “surrender” to herself just as she is, becomes like bathing in the refreshing water in the pool of her soul. Grounded in her connection with her inner wisdom, she now lives from her own authority.”

And so, through illness, loss, the inevitability of our own death, we stumble or are pulled with ferocity into the liminal landscape of the Crone. She is uncompromising. The giver and taker of life. She demands as payment for crossing the threshold, precious gifts hidden in the challenges that crucify. These are times when we may also glimpse the white butterfly of new possibility. As we integrate our aloneness and despair into new learning, we plant it back into a world that looks the same outwardly, though we have changed irrevocably. Says Marion Woodman, “periods of renunciation are the initiations in life when we realise God is not running a day care centre.”

Goddess is a word that has lost its currency. This powerful archetype has been prostituted to sell perfume, bath oil, and deodorant. It’s bandied about as a term of endearment.  Goddess, like Woman, has been made infantile, pretty-in-pink, static, always smiling, naively youthful.  But, there is not only one goddess. She has, for eons, appeared in three: Maiden, Mother, and Crone; and she takes many forms. In a civilization as flatlined as ours, she lives still as the Fairy Godmother, the Woman of the Mist, Baba Yaga, the Cailleach. She is the dark moon, the cruel winter, the fierce, wise Mother of All. The Crone courageously embraces her values, her truth, and her beauty. She caresses the silver riverbeds that lattice her belly and her thighs, sees the eyes that stare back at her in the mirror, and says, yes!  She works through those who have not pricked their fingers on the spindle and fallen asleep.

There is an old story, told by Lame Deer, a Lakota Elder. It speaks of the importance of injury. When we die, we meet an old hag in the Underworld. She will eat our scars, and then allow us to continue on our journey. If you have none, she will eat your eyes instead. This suggests to me, the value of inner sight, as we die in various ways on our journeys. It is in our scars, the fractures in our hearts, our wrinkles, our stretch marks, as Leonard Cohen says, There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.”

So there will come a time when we must stand in the fire, like Teresa Treacy of Clonmore. We must speak our truth quietly, with assurance. We must persistently mine the metaphors in our lives. Dig deep, chew the cud of our dreams and savour the delicious sweetness. Stir the cauldron of our darkest emotions. And when we have prepared, and are ready, the Crone will appear. She will take our hand, and lead us back to the Garden.

Well, then can I roam beside you? I have come to lose the smog.
And I feel myself a cog in something turning.
And maybe it’s the time of year, yes, said maybe it’s the time of man.
And I don’t know who I am but life is for learning.
We are stardust, we are golden, we are billion year old carbon,
And we got to get ourselves back to the garden.
Joni Mitchell, Woodstock.

Love the Crone, and listen to the original sounds of the Beatles:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JaJIQmIei14  And I love her, the Beatles http://www.offalyexpress.ie/news/local/teresa_treacy_to_meet_with_esb_1_3143058

 

 

8

I’ll have what she’s having

Faking it. We all do it. The casual, “let’s have lunch sometime,” we toss out during a chance meeting with an acquaintance in the supermarket, knowing full well that we have no such intention or desire. The “I’m doing so well,” when our heart is heavy, and we are overwhelmed with worry.

The little white lies we tell others – and ourselves – as we create a busy collage of perfect images that mask our Authentic Selves. “Waits at the window, wearing the face that she keeps in jar by the door. Who is it for?” sang John and Paul in Eleanor Rigby. We feel the heaviness of the suffocating masks we wear, and still we protect, preserve, settle for, ideas – and relationships, that keep us feeling like frauds. Eventually, we come to believe that we are what we do, or what we own. We rationalise, quantify, articulate, until all we are is a pastiche of the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves.  

Remember the scene in When Harry met Sally? They’re in the diner. Sally wants to prove to Harry that women can – and do – fake orgasm. She puts on a very vocal performance of ecstatic pleasure. The woman customer in the booth nearby says, “I’ll have what she’s having!”  It gets the laugh, makes a point. We fake orgasms, tans, happiness, success, and youth. As little children we may be told to dry those tears and put on a happy face, and as little children in grown up bodies, we may continue to be “the good girl” and fake it to win approval, or avoid saying what we really think and feel.  The little lies we tell that erode our authentic Self, and split our energy. We wear our tragedy mask when we lament, “why is this happening to me?” when the question that always empowers is, “What do I want to make of this situation?”

The Zen Koan asks, “What was your original face before you were born?” It asks that we discard the masks we wear to conceal our vulnerabilities and hide our  fear.  It invites us to go deeper, further, to excavate our origins, the meaning in our lives, and the source of our true selves before the story of our lives. To reveal our original face in everything we do. We have all lived many lives, whether we realise it or not. Childhood, adolescence, our student years, first jobs, unrequited loves, marriages, motherhood, divorce, illness, or death – each experience has left a deposit of sediment, like a sandstone cliff. It will require some painstaking digging to unearth the sacred site of our True Self.  If you have a photograph of yourself as a little child, take some time today to study that snapshot and look deeply and lovingly into her eyes. Examine her little face. Notice the jaw, the eyebrows, the mouth; get a sense of that little child, and of who you were before the layers of assumptions and expectations, covered her essence. Brush off the clinging soil that hides the truths, exhume the promises and the pain that have entombed your True Self, and gently, very gently, allow your Original Face to smile back at you this new day. 

We view ourselves as works of art. Somewhere in us there is a perfect image, a perfect work, a well-wrought mask that cuts us off from flesh and blood. Our real terror is that the work, being precious, may, in an instant, be destroyed. Medusa wants everything permanent, perfect, engraved in stone.” Marion Woodman

5

This is a Man’s World

Look around you at the boys pretending to be men: the conniving political leader, the indifferent school teacher, the pedantic priest, the sadistic gang leader, the vanishing father who leaves his wife and children destitute, the bully boss who ridicules his junior executive.

The world is teaming with boy-men. We extol the boyish behaviour of celebrities; we mistake threatening, controlling, hostile behaviour for strength, when the Tyrant is really the Emperor wearing no clothes – an angry, lost little boy. We have reached a tipping point, a collective crisis in mature masculinity.

Pluto in sombre Capricorn, sign of the archetypal Father, now heralds a new world order: a relentless breakdown of structures that no longer serve their purpose. Quantum physics sanctions what mystics and shamans have known for eons: we are all One and we live in an interconnected Uni (one) verse (song.) So what is necessary now, in this new age where sacred rituals have lost their potency, where rites of passage are medicated away, numbed down by distractions and addictions, is for us all to embrace our Masculine energy, and be hu-man. The word, man, means “human being, person.” And as Pluto, like a miniscule drop of purging homeopathic remedy, pervades the  waters of the Collective Consciousness, we confront these ancient blueprints. Archetypes of Masculine and Feminine which are out of balance as we cross the threshold of a new awareness as foretold by the oracles of old.

Now is time for critical self-appraisal. If our governments and world leaders reflect the microcosm of our own lives, where are we out of integrity, acting as bullies, withholding or abusing power over the earth, or each other in our homes and communities? Says Neale Donald Walsch, “Stop looking all over the place for “the answers” – whatever they are – and start looking for the questions – the inquiries which are most important in your life, and give them answers. You do not live each day to discover what it holds for you, but to create it.”

This is the challenge we face today, in a world devoid of True Heroes, Wise Statemen, and Gentle Men.

We must collectively take responsibity for holding the Father Archetype and bringing Masculine energy into balance with the Feminine.

Now, more than ever in our human journey, we need mature masculine energy, as our civilization nears its great initiation into a Whole, more Uni-versal way of being.  We’re being forced into the responsibility of making wise decisions— setting new goals, or we’re not going to survive as a species. As a culture of fatherless boys and girls, we must now access the Positive Father within to embrace the Postive Mother.

Patriarchy is not masculinity. Patriarchy is about Power, and patriarchy drains the life blood from the Masculine, and throttles the Feminine.  So patriarchy will amplify the either/or.  Patriarchy separates, divides, it amps up the dualty of black and white, right and wrong. It is always self-serving – like the Imposter King or Queen, it usurps power and tramples over dead bodies to get to the throne. Matriarchy can be just as vicious as patriarchy, as anyone who has worked under the an archetypal ward Matron or Mother Superior might have experienced. When we identify ourselves with power in any form – power over other people, power over nature, even power over our own bodies, denying the inevitablity of ageing with the insane quest for eternal youth, we are in the Venus Fly Trap of distorted patriarchy.

Goal setting is a positive masculine attribute, cutting away with the Sword of Truth things that are non-essential. So is taking action, being discerning, discriminating. These masculine attributes are positive when they are in relationship to the feminine. The masculine protects and honours the feminine, champions and celebrates the attributes and the values of the feminine, and these two energies are active in mature men and women. The feminine is chaotic, creative, and is the “being” energy of our humanness, while the masculine is the dynamic, the goal orientated, “doing” energy we must send out into the world  to bring forth the fruit of our creation. We need a balance of both energies to be in balance in our lives.  Says Marion Woodman, “there’s a divine marriage going on between the feminine and the masculine in every creative process. The more a woman develops her masculinity the more feminine she becomes, and the more a man develops his femininity the more masculine he becomes.”

We, as Women, need to be in our Mature Feminine to hold our men in their Mature Masculine. Pluto’s long passage through Capricorn these next sixteen years, will make us so.

This is a man’s world
But it wouldn’t be nothing, nothing without a woman or a girl.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Fd8_gojNXc James Brown at his soulful best! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rh2Yxp6q2h0&feature=related Christina the Diva

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Money Money Money

 “Money is better than poverty, if only for financial reasons,” quips Woody Allen. “For I don’t care too much for money, for money can’t buy me love,” sang The Beatles.  Our relationship with money is steeped in contradiction, confusion and myth. We were told, it does not grow on trees, or that we should save for a rainy day. Most people find it easier to talk about sex than money.

 So what is this thing we call “money”?  Like slippery bodily fluids, money is a stream of electrons, a medium of exchange. Even Wikipedia is somewhat woolly about the origins of the word. As in myths, fairy tales, archaic beliefs, “money”  is swathed in the mists of time. It is said to originate from the temple of the goddess, Hera. It’s associated with the goddess Juno. With the Etruscan goddess, Uni. Some sources claim the word “money” is believed to originate from a temple of “Moneta”. The Latin word for money is “monere” (remind, warn, or instruct) and the Greeks used “moneres” (alone, unique).  Sound fuzzy enough for you?

“Everyone’s consciousness draws from the same underlying reality,” says Deepak Chopra. Over these next 14 years in our human story, we are moving through a new domain of consciousness. Neptune moves into its home sign of illusive Pisces this year, calling us Home to Spirit, to float in a sea of interconnectedness. Neptune is a transpersonal planet, and that means it its energy operates in the Collective consciousness, as it swirls silently in darkness, within the outer reaches of our solar system.

In its highest vibration, Neptune draws us to a direct experience of the Divine, and conventional religious theology will not satisfy our yearning. Neptune calls us back into Dream Time. Boundaries become permeable, spirituality, medium ship and psychic activity may become more acceptably mainstream.Yet, the  light is dim in the murky oceanic realm of Neptune (Roman god of water and sea,) and moray eels lurk in hidden crevices. Neptune can also manifest as charlatans who deceive, gurus who are not all they seem, mass hysteria, illusion, disillusion, addiction, victimhood, and sacrifice. Watch the movies. Note the newest fashion trends,  these are  harbringers of this new consciousness. With Neptune’s influence over  porous boundaries in terms of personal privacy and safety, I’m guessing there will be changes in the way we use social media. There will be far-reaching changes in the power base in world government, in banking systems, financial institutions, and the value we place on this thing we call “money”.  Those people on the first wave of change are now offering skills exchange, or payment for what they believe a service is worth. Already, they are re-imaging their relationship and beliefs about money as a form of energy, nothing more. So we come to the inevitable question: How do I follow my bliss, do what I really want in my life, and have the money I need to live in this material world? Our fear of money has spawned a surfeit of books, Cds, self-help gurus who preach abundance, prosperity, The Law of Attraction… and yet there are still  barnacled beliefs, old  myths that keep us chained to poverty consciousness and lack, no matter how many pairs of shoes we have, or how much food is in the refrigerator. Neptune entreats us to dream differently. To use right brain intuition that defies logic and the rational mind. 

Neptune’s realm is our dream time, our spiritual exxperience, our creative imagination, our yearning to transcend the hardships and rigours of this earth plane.  Neptune is John Lennon calling us all to Imagine. And by 2025 when Neptune enters the fire sign of Aries, we will have the challenge of putting our  imaginings, our dreams, our new world view into action.


Imagine there’s no Heaven
It’s easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today

Imagine there’s no countries
It isn’t hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace

You may say that I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world

You may say that I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us
And the world will live as one. John Lennon.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WCkOmcIl79s

Abba’s Money, Money, Money

 

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Love Is All Around

Nothing much has changed when it comes to the map of the human heart. Two dressed-for-success business women are engaged in serious conversation between nibbles of a warm mushroom and ricotta cheese salad. They lean towards each other over the restaurant table, talking not about the crisis over the euro, or the latest merger. They are talking about Love.

Much in the same way, I imagine, our ancestors sat around fires, in mossy caves, talking to each other about their children, their men. Much in the way women of the land  laugh from the depths of their bellies, as they pick tea, hoe the red earth, peel the leaves off maize, talking about the people they hold close to their hearts.

Just like the stars that shine even when we can’t see them, Love is all around. It’s the Field, the Matrix. And when you connect to Love, miracles happen.

Love is all around at airport arrivals, in the cancer ward.  Love is in the eyes of our lover, as we lie, limbs entwined. Love is all around when the parent we have been at war with for years, now lies, just like a little boy, breath rattling in his sunken chest. Love is the flowering of our heart when we hold our first grandchild. Love is the aged family dog, now deaf, almost blind, tail still wagging, warmly welcoming us home.  Love comes  softly sometimes. And there are times when Love strips us naked, flays us bare to the bone.  Love is boundless, arching over barriers that divide race, gender, age, or social status. We fall in love with the married man, the gardener, boss. We find the love we have been searching for all our lives in the soft arms of another woman.

Aphrodite, or Venus, as the Romans named her, is  goddess of love, beauty, and lust.  She  was once a creator-earth goddess, and like other feminine deities she delighted in lusty pleasures, found her Joy in the embrace of handsome young men. She is Woman, relishing the curves and fullness of her body, finding beauty and pleasure in all things sensuous and playful. Her gutsy call to pleasure and beauty is  enticing, and her siren call draws us, to the vortex of our desire.   Love brings lasting happiness and  soulful partnerships. Love  also detonates marriages, divides families, destroys kingdoms, ravages our bodies with venereal (Venus) disease.  Our quest for youth and sexual allure  disfigures our faces and bodies, depletes our bank balances.  “The course of true love never did run smooth,” Lysander laments in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.  Ask anyone who has tried to navigate the stormy seas of  long distance relationship, or who has loved someone who has committed to be with another. Yet if we honour her respectfully, and connect with the Aphrodite essence within, she always brings us just what we need at just the right time for our soul’s sorrow or joy.

Each one of us has a Venus in our birth chart. Unique by her position in sign, element, and aspect.  Our Venus longs for her own distinctly unique expression. Some of us deny our Aphrodite energy. Or allow our partners to carry it for us. We cage our primal sexuality, wage war against our bodies; bridle our lusts, disconnect  from what makes us feel sensual, feminine, and alive.  Aphrodite’s essence has become split in our Judaic-Christian world view, where femininity, sexuality, our bodies, have been smeared with morality and judgement. Yet, centuries on,  Aphrodite lives  in art, in advertising, literature, and in the characters of  soap operas. Modern Aphrodite’s appear in movies, on the pages of fashion magazines.  She is the diva of song. As distant as the Evening Star,  she is the  wet and wild porn star –  Aprhodite the insatiable  Harlot. As the chorus in Euripides’ play, Hippolytus sing, “neither fire nor stars have stronger bolts than those of Aphrodite.” When we are struck by Aphrodite’s  bolt of Love, we experience a profound stirring of the loins and the soul. Aphrodite initiates  by piercing the armour of our defences, dishevelling our lives. Challenging us to go within and connect with what we value, what feels lovely, delicious, what brings us pleasure. Love is all around, so dance today with Aphrodite!  Allow her to caress you, and delight you with her charms.  Love  and honour your body today.  Tune in. Listen to what it says to you, so you can listen to the call of your soul. Love yourself,  then be truly willing to receive Love – it is all around.

Carrie: Have you?

Mr. Big: Have I what?

Carrie: Ever been in love.

Mr Big: Absofuckinglutely.

Sex and the City

The Troggs http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ut5uC91FcbI

 

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