The Art of Awareness

As we move into the next phase of our global renaissance, copious creativity is the axis on which our elevation will turn. How deeply are we willing to tap our inner reservoirs? Can we expand our perception of what constitutes "art"?

Jose Argüelles, who adapted the evolutionary secrets of the Mayan Calendar for the Western mind, saw art as the unifying field, a path to help us move "from biospheric waste to artistic regeneration," by attuning ourselves to a natural time frequency expressed as an equation: T(E) = Art. Energy (E) factored by time (T) equals Art. Energy is essence: a rock, a flower, a star, a human being. Time is a frequency. When we use our energy in concert with natural time cycles, we are living creativity. In other words, Time is Art…not the clock on the wall or the cash in your wallet.

Eye of the Beholder

What this means in terms of cross-cultural energy exchange opens unimagined doors. A woman traveled from Denmark to the tiny West African country The Gambia, toting numerous colorful plastic bags — prized by Gambian women as symbols of status and respect — to use as barter. (Women of The Gambia also recycle worn or ripped plastic bags into one-of-a-kind purses).

In the marketplace, she discovered a hand-carved figure of an African goddess and, through gestures, opened negotiations to purchase the stunning piece.

But the indigenous artist had no interest in money. She wanted plastic bags. The Danish visitor tried to give her all the bags she'd brought, explaining that there was a surplus of these in her country. The Gambian sculptor accepted three, and each woman felt she'd enjoyed the better bargain. Plastic bags or a unique woodcarving: equally sacred art in the eye of the beholder.

Then there is the children's book that became a collaboration between two Jewish translators, a Protestant editor, a Muslim painter and a non-profit publisher in the deep South. It was a collective endeavor all the way, explained one rabbinical writer: "An Arabic Sufi tale (originally penned in what is now Iraq) translated by a rabbi into Hebrew in the Middle Ages and translated by us (into 21^st century language and sensibility), with a Sufi publisher and a Pakistani artist." The subject matter — animals protesting their treatment by humans — transcended all ethnic, cultural, and religious boundaries.

The Art in our DNA

The universal urge toward the aesthetic is coded in our cells. Theologian and author Thomas Moore writes, in Care of the Soul, "Children paint every day and love to show their works on walls and refrigerator doors. But as we become adults, we abandon this important soul task of childhood." When we relinquish this soul expression to professional artists, "we are left with mere rational reasons for our lives, feelings of emptiness and confusion, and a compulsive attachment to pseudo images, such as shallow television programs. When our own images no longer have a home, a personal museum, we drown our sense of loss in pale substitutes, trashy novels or formulaic movies."

Because art arrests our attention, living "artfully" might require of us something as simple as pausing: taking the time to shift from acquire to inquire, to let go of buying more in favor of being more. This is what honoring our collective creative impulse can do for humanity: restore us to wholeness, holiness, health. "Whole", "holy" and "heal" all spring from the same root. To be whole is to be balanced and harmonious in body, mind, soul and spirit.

It's this level of awareness that will characterize the coming Psychozoic ("spirit life") era, says Argüelles, when, having rediscovered who we are, we can create a culture based on the three virtues of true time: autonomy, equality, and loyalty to the truth in every moment. These are strikingly similar to the Three Commitments delineated by The Reconnections: stay free, stay present, follow the energy.

We already have fusion food: a culinary blending of cultures to delight the palate. Now we're primed to feed our deeper hunger, to fuse mind and heart into healing art, and reawaken the sacred dimension in daily life.

And if we make a subtle shift — move the "h" in heart from the start of the word to the end — we create "Earth". We live in a heart circle. Earth heart. The beat goes on.

Homecoming

Home. Except for love, perhaps no word in the English language conjures more evocative imagery. We crave the cozy, nurturing, roaring-fire scene depicted so effectively on film. Home houses our identity. It's less about the four walls than what they represent: "the abode of one's affections, peace or rest," according to Merriam-Webster. At some point in our lives, many women (and men, too, if they will admit it) harbor a fearful fantasy of becoming a "bag lady/guy," carting our belongings out on the street. We see the homeless and quake — "there but for the grace of God go I."

What we're seeking is a sense of security inside ourselves, a home within that can never be taken away. As national boundaries dissolve and corporations invite poets and spiritual mentors into their boardrooms, the hunger for this broader definition of home has never been greater. 

From Me to We

Creating this inner sanctuary will entail a quantum shift for many of us: out of the competitive, "What's in it for me" worldview into a more collaborative, compassionate perspective in which the operative question becomes, "How may I serve?"

For instance: as record numbers of us skate towards elderhood, home care has become a hot topic. What does this mean? On one level, "home care" is about providing caregiving in the home to enable our elders and homebound to remain in their comfort zones. But the larger view begs our attention. Before we can care for our home, we need to know it viscerally. We must embody the place of wholeness that wants to be born in us.

Our own bodies and the planetary body are inextricably linked. Anthropologist Gregory Bateson speaks of "the pattern that connects," the common ground of our unity. We exist in relationship to everyone and everything else on Earth. What kind of home care is our aging Mother receiving? Maybe that's the real key to conscious aging: caring for the personal and the planetary with equal reverence.

Living in Tune with Nature

In other societies, the old ones are the keepers of wisdom. So-called developing cultures that honor their tribal elders also honor the land in which they live. "Home care" is a unified practice for them, as indigenous as the planting and the reaping, as natural as celebrating life's quotidian rhythms with ritual.

In this visionary view, we're all caregivers — Earth stewards, some say. Home care for our elders is rooted in how we create home in our daily lives. What kind of home do we want to cultivate and care for, inside ourselves, interpersonally, and as part of the collective "home body" we inhabit? 

Try this: for the next week, take a time-out from worrying about the economy, your teenager's pierced body parts and the latest virus scare to live into the larger questions about the quality of life you're choosing in every moment, by the way you live, by what you do and don't honor. Does your definition of home serve you? Is it inclusive or exclusive? Will your practice of home care help create a sustainable future for us all? 

Within a decade, for the first time in human history, the number of people in the world aged 65 and older will exceed that of children under five. If you're not already among this exhalted majority, one day you will look in the mirror and see your grandmother's or grandfather's eyes. Will they reflect the wisdom of generativity, of the home that you carry with you always, as a turtle does, caring for it because it is an intrinsic part of you?

Native Americans call this planet Turtle Island. I imagine this is what they mean.

Code Blue: Revivifying the Heart of America

In hospitals, Code Blue indicates cardiac arrest or respiratory failure. It's an apt metaphor for our political emerge-and-see. Time to take a deep breath, revive from unconsciousness and plunge ever deeper into our hearts.

The body politic is broken, yet repairing what isn't working will just keep the existing system chugging along longer. We need to craft a new mythology, a wholly different story for unprecedented times.

Embracing the both/and with both feet on the ground

Early in 2012, when we were preparing for a quantum jump into a reality beyond the tide of prophecy, I referenced polymath Jim Channon, an author and corporate shaman with a military intelligence background (how's that for crossing borders!) who writes, of reimagining our future,

"Between the crack of time and the fold of space there is an impulse to seek the fullness of life. Let there be the slipstream of knowing that penetrates in the flash of an eye to the core of the prize. Let that edge of knowing blaze a trail of pure magic for the spiritual warriors of the galaxy to rise again in the grist of the great surge forward and strike the banner of pure heart into the midst of the fury and bring her all — home again."

It's time to move from being edge dwellers to center walkers, embracing the both/and with both feet on the ground. We're doing it: getting involved, questioning the structure of the Electoral College, connecting with allies we've never met to discover what the new path might look like.

It won't be constructed of asphalt ("at fault") but from pumps primed around the nation and across the globe: the pumps that live inside us, circulating identical blood whether our hearts beat in black, white, brown, straight, LGBTQi, American, Mexican, Muslim, or any other cultural body.

Progress is a process

Our differences are skin deep, and micro-thin. Beyond the clothes our organs wear, we are One. Poet David Whyte, whose words resonate equally in boardrooms and blogs, offers an internal aegis for us all:

"Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into


the conversation. The kettle is singing even as it

pours you a drink, the cooking pots
 have left their

arrogant aloofness and seen the good in you at last.

All the birds
 and creatures of the world are unutterably

themselves. Everything is waiting for you."

Or consider the term Steve Rother, five-time United Nations presenter, brought through: "Espavo". Espavo means, "Thank you for taking your power". The ancient Lemurian acknowledgment is akin to the Indian greeting "Namaste", which means, "The Spirit in me recognizes the Spirit in you", and the Mayan expression, "In Lak'ech": "I am another yourself." The distinctive difference is, Espavo carries an implicit call to action.

The Heart of the Matter

And the moment is now. Pragmatic mystic Gillian Macbeth Louthan shares, "The 11:11 doorway begins its activation on November 11, 2016 and closes on January 11, 2017. It is a gateway into your highest potential as a human seeking divinity. Promises present themselves disguised as foxes in a henhouse." (Ahem…)

"When the forces of Eleven become fully activated they have the power to change history and even fate if enough love is globally broadcast. Eleven teaches us every problem comes as a divine opportunity to learn. It shows us how to see beyond what is everyday and boring. It tests our faith and our belief system. It forces us to listen to that small, still, quiet voice within: the silent witness. It reminds us we are all vast beings who have come to Earth to help with the healing and awakening process. It asks you to locate the light within and share it with all."

This is a potent time for powerful pre-emptive magic. Initiated Mayan elder and author Martín Prechtel suggests we engage in "love drive-bys", where we run up to someone, press chocolate into their palm and run away. What a deliciously playful expression of the true meaning of power: that which heals us into our wholeness.

We're on our way to Code Clear. Breathe from deep within your soul, and feel your heart expand to encompass winnovative solutions. Remember, Earth and Heart are anagrams: only the "h", for home, healing, humanity, moves from one end to the other. Espavo.

© Copyright November 2016 Amara Rose. All rights reserved.

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