Fire and Water: The Deeper Meaning Of What We Unleash

When I was deep into my spiritual awakening, I had startlingly prescient dreams; in one, the words, "violent emergency" reverberated through my mind. It was a violent emergence; birth is fierce. There is an ocean of difference, however, between Nature's ferocity and that which is deliberately inflicted by human beings with their own agendas.

Theologian and author Thomas Moore writes, "Deep in the etymology of 'violence' is a strong Latin word, vis. It is the power in nature that we sense in the surging sea and the growth of grass. In our experiences of violence we witness the vain attempt of life to push itself into existence and visibility. This is a sexual power. Sex is not just about making bodies but making souls as well. The people of the world need every opportunity to be creative and visible. They need to enjoy life, not just survive. Without that opportunity, they will turn to violence, in spite of themselves."

Life's Novocaine

We tend to go through life anesthetized against our own yearning. The call to claim our power can be terrifying, because it means accepting our invitation to the Dance — and most of us have forgotten how to dance, if indeed we ever knew. We find it easier to lash out in anger: rage, the undiscovered country. If being "outrageous" means getting the rage out, Americans are black belts. Having lost touch with the wilderness within, we savage the Earth and each other in an effort to combat our loneliness.

War is the grand expression of this misdirected energy. It's akin to our ability, or lack of it, to harness the power of the sun. Yoked to our solar egg, we could shine on in all our ecological radiance for millennia. Yoking means union, but we're used to living the more limiting definition of bondage. Trussed to our desperation, we sigh, "That's life!"  Since interdependence — becoming what Kenny Ausubel christened "Bioneers," or biological pioneers, co-creating with Nature — feels so foreign, we stay (un)comfortably in the familiar, pump up the volume, and wearily watch as the world turns.

There is a way out: it's through. The trees are gods and goddesses who in their stillness keep the Earth's counsel; the animals are our allies. We can commune with a snake or a sea lion as easily as with the people we call kin. The key lies in reclaiming our wildness — not as violence, but as an abiding, sensuous connection with Nature. Instead of experiencing everything at one remove, we can allow it to enter us. READ MORE

The Melanin Wars

I was one of the unlucky ones. Born with just a smidge of melanin, I can't pass for coffee or any type of tea; just a distant cousin of pink grapefruit juice. In cultural parlance, I'm Caucasian. And even though I've never been persecuted for it (except one time in New Mexico, but I'll get to that), I can appreciate how the amount of melanin in one's skin affects who they'll become.

Consider the Melanin Megastars: people with skin so black it's almost blue. They're melanin rich, whether they reside in a poverty-stricken African country or in the United States. Then there are the Melanin Middlin': people whose skin color may be a toffee brown or other shade that reflects a blended heritage. Those who hail from the Mediterranean, India, Latin countries, and Native Americans generally fall into this category.

But the melanin-deprived are a vast group, spread across the globe. We don't talk about being Melanin Midgets; it simply isn't a subject for polite discourse. But it rankles. Why can't our skin glow with the bronze hues other ethnicities take for granted? To assuage our privation, some of us may occasionally use an epithet to describe members of one of these privileged groups. It's an attempt to camouflage our sense of inferiority.

Perhaps this is what happened with Paula Deen, who made headlines recently because she admitted to using the "N" word in the past. Ms. Deen was promptly and roundly punished for her error, losing both face and finances in a very public way. It was a temporary slip, long ago, she says. But as Oprah so trenchantly observed, we're not yet ready for a "real conversation" about racism in today's world.

One of my few direct experiences of racial prejudice occurred nearly two decades ago, when I lived in northern New Mexico, an area whose inhabitants are a mix of Latino, Native American, and Caucasian, living an uneasy cultural détente. In the midst of a labyrinthine healing quest from chronic illness, I was also opening to Spirit, not working except on myself, and living on savings.

Shopping in a local pharmacy for personal care needs, I observed that my cashier appeared to have a cold. Solicitously I asked, "Are you sick? Maybe you should take a few days off." She flared, "Look, Lady, I gotta work! I don't have no sugar daddy!" Obviously, since it was the middle of the day, she assumed I was a woman of leisure. I understood her rage, and that it wasn't directed at me personally so much as at her life situation. It was nonetheless shocking, because it was new to me. Yet this is what melanin-endowed people experience perhaps every day of their lives.

What will it take to begin the conversation? What if melanin was valued instead of money? African Americans would be wealthy beyond measure; Caucasians, not so much. Just because people of minimal color may be Melanin Midgets doesn't mean we have to be mental midgets.

We have bigger issues to resolve that affect us all, regardless of the amount of pigment in our skin. Let's grow beyond the Melanin Wars. We've transcended the apocalyptic drama of 2012. Surely we can do this.

Memorial Day: Releasing the war within us

This weekend the United States observes Memorial Day, a federal holiday enacted after the Civil War to commemorate the men and women who died in military service. Yet there is no recognition of a more insidious war that's being waged globally, every day, by billions of people: the one we're fighting with ourselves.

In our civilized, industrialized, pasteurized, homogenized world, we're frozen into form, ossified in the material — and inured to the whispers of tree leaves, the murmur of brooks, the hissing of summer lawns. Now it takes a rock and roll band pounding 110 decibels directly into our ears, and still most of us, earbuds securely in place, walk on placidly. It's a false peace, and we know it. The uneasiness stirs in our bones, barely kept at bay by the jackhammer rhythm of life in the 21st century.

It's as if we've all been secretly anesthetized against the pain of those who yearn — and it's our yearning, our fear, our wounding, our wonder, that's wanting. But turning to face the music means accepting the invitation to the Dance. And most of us have forgotten how to dance — if indeed we ever knew. We find it easier to lash out in anger: rage, the undiscovered country. If being "outrageous" means getting the rage out, Americans are black belts. READ THE REST!

What If They Gave An Economic Crisis and Nobody Came?

The Vietnam War was raging when the rhetorical question began circulating, "What if they gave a war and nobody came?" There was even a 1970 film by the title, "Suppose They Gave a War and Nobody Came?"

What if ... we apply this same wisdom to the economic and political "crisis"?

I've never understood where the money goes when the media announces we're in a recession or depression. Are people suddenly hoarding it? If the money's still in circulation, then it's only fear and foreboding that drives prices sky-high and creates a scarcity mentality.

Everything that happens in 3D begins first in the mind, so we must drop from a higher vibrational resonance of faith and well-being into fear, loss and lack in order for the outer reality to follow.

Suppose we "just say no" to this scenario? Ignore the mass media hysteria, and follow our soul's dictum, which is always about abundance, grace, love and truth. It's only pie-in-the-sky if you doubt; when millions of us choose to walk on faith and follow our hearts, the outer reality must mirror this inner truth.

What if they gave an economic and political crisis and nobody cared? What if we evolved beyond the Dementors of Doom, held high our wands of wisdom, and envisioned the future we know we deserve and are capable of creating? This is how Y2K didn't happen, after all: enough people ignored the fear in favor of a positive, easy outcome, and the new millennium began not with shortages and widespread blackouts, but in celebration.

Isn't it time to vote for what we want, rather than fighting shadows?