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The always delightful Barbara Marx Hubbard has an intriguing theory about why we sometimes "click" with each other in such profoundly generative ways ...
I've often experienced the thrill of creative communion she talks about, and I love the provocative twinkle in her eyes when she names it as she sees it. Of course we'd all be feeling pretty good too, if we'd stimulated as much vocational arousal in the world as she has. :-) What a Beauty!
I've just heard that John O'Donohue, the great Irish poet/philosopher that I have quoted here so often from his fabulous book on Beauty, The Invisible Embrace, died unexpectedly on January 3rd.
His friend David Whyte has written a beautiful memorial, including a poem he wrote for John.
My sorrow at this loss is beyond words.
Whether or not this intricate pattern of reality ('e8') from new scientist Garrett Lisi is indeed a theory of everything, it is certainly beautiful.
After the intensity of the last few days, it was a wonderful pleasure to relax a bit and spend time connecting with friends in beautiful Seattle.
I’ve started walking again … I’d stopped for a week or so, feeling I was too busy to take the time. ☺ Another one of my life’s little ironies - being too busy to do the thing that helps me handle being busy without spinning out. ☺
The weatherman says it's going to rain soon; my guy is making sure our garden is prepared and on my walk this morning I saw people busy re-tarring their roofs and cutting those branches precariously situated above power lines. The energy of change is loose in my world and summer's heat has been chased into memory by the last few days' crisp breeze.
What's most fascinating to me about all this, though, is the light, and what is happening to it now that we're moving into autumn.
If a year were to be superimposed on one day, this season would be the first dawning of sunset, the beginning of twilight; my favorite time of the day. The colors are intensified, and the light soft, almost swollen.
Earlier this year, during the Winter Solstice Dreaming ceremony I did with my dear friends Pele Rouge and FireHawk in the Santa Cruz mountains, I wrote this love poem to Light, which I found the other day and thought I would share with you here.
I’d heard of Einstein’s Dreams long before I found my own copy at Moe’s (God, I love Moe’s! What a fabulous bookstore!). A quirky little ‘literary’ piece by scientist Alan Lightman, this hauntingly delicate first novel explores the nature of time and how our conceptualizations of it rule the way we experience life.
It’s a quick read – I devoured it whole on the flight between SFO and Denver - 30 short dated prose-poems threaded with ‘interludes” of real-time interaction between the 26-year-old Einstein and his best friend Besso, and framed by a prologue and an epilogue.
30 dreams, recorded between 14 April and 28 June 1905 illustrate the same world, or versions of it, through 30 different views of time. Time stands still, runs backward, is mirrored back and forth, stays frozen in the past and is different in every city and for every person: every possible conceptualization is played out in Einstein’s dreams…
My favorite is the dream of 15 May, 1905:
Imagine a world in which there is no time. Only images.
Another powerful Thought Leader Gathering session from Heartland Circle ...
This July's conversation starter (and regular TLG member) Betsy Saunders led us in an exercise using the symbolism of a monk's begging bowl as a channel that receives contributions from the world and demands only that the gift be accepted as precisely "enough" for each day's needs.
As you know, I've been having a dialogue here and with several friends and colleagues about the need for a new language in which to speak our experience of nature-connection and sensory awareness of the deeper currents in life. As part of this conversation, the following words came through Bob Stilger from the Berkana Institute. They have been ringing in me ever since, so I thought I'd share them with you:
"I (suddenly) realized what was needed wasn’t so much a new language as a new listening... We must listen deeply into these resonant fields...
Words, new and old, will eventually emerge which we use to communicate with others. Our invitation, I think, is to learn to hear these words as invitation, not as dogma. To hear them as incomplete and yearning rather than as Truth."
And so I find myself listening for invitations ...
I just returned from a Solstice celebration held in a redwood forest in the Santa Cruz mountains. This ceremony and its ‘Dreaming’ counterpart held in the middle of winter have become necessary bookmarks in my year, rituals of integration and relationship that bring wholeness and balance to the busi-ness of my life.
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