Being Home

I awoke this morning, grabbed my computer and a hot cup of coffee, pulled the drapes back, and situated myself on the couch. When I activated my computer, this song began to play. It stopped me in my tracks. Before going to sleep last night I put on a Native American Chant Mix that lasts about an hour. I was hoping to hear this song, but my computer battery died. Instead of plugging in my computer I decided to roll over and go to sleep.

So when starting my computer this morning, this song began to play before I even logged in. It was the very next song on the mix. I listen to it now while I'm typing, and it is moving me to tears.

You see, seven years ago I showed up in Steamboat Springs, Colorado without any idea of why I landed there instead of Aspen/Snowmass where I really wanted to be. In my mailbox one Sunday was the Steamboat newspaper that had a large picture and article about a shaman who had also just moved to town. I didn't know what a shaman was then, but I knew that I couldn't get rid of the article or picture of him. I put it on my table where I could see it from just about anywhere in my apartment. I knew I knew him. There was a connection that I couldn't place, but I felt it anyway. So I made an appointment to see him. Within weeks of that meeting I began to work in his office. He opened up a world to me that I did not know existed, and for the past five years since leaving Steamboat, I haven't lived in that world -- until now.

That world he introduced me to has come back full force, full throttle, bigger, better, more magnificent, and truly ripe with many possibilities. I did not know how much I missed it. Instead, for five years I got to play someone else. I got to try on personalities to see how they fit. There were many parts of those personalities I liked a lot. I had some fabulous times, met tremendous people, made extraordinary friendships, and laughed excessively. What I've learned though, is that all of that is not enough.

In 2004 the visions of Aspen began. They stopped for five years, and now they're back. I saw myself living there, working there, thriving there, being the light that I am there. What I discovered was that I needed to go on a five-year excursion of other experiences to be able to show back up with an authentically open heart and pure love. I had to experience a lot of what wasn't me to be able to excavate the real me.

I sit here right now on the couch watching the cars pull up. It's Christmastime in the neighborhood and relatives and friends are making their way to the neighbors' houses. I sit alone... No, that's not true. I sit here with a room full of magnificent beings who clothe me in pure love, and I can't help but have tears spill out of my eyes. I am overflowing with gratitude and excitement. I do not have a plan. I have a knowing. I have a tremendous feeling of going back home, being in a place that has made room for me. I feel this so strongly that I cannot express in words what I know to be true.

I sit here and breathe in the love surrounding me and filling me, and I wish that for all. This is home, this love. It is everything.

Oh, and the Native American Chant with which I stared this post? My shaman played it almost daily in the office. He certainly played it during our shamanic journeys. That music takes me back to a place within where I have always felt at peace and always considered to be home.

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Every morning I awake to a soft environment, one that places me at ease. It's uncluttered and feminine. I breathe  with such ease and welcome in the morning air knowing that I don't know what is next. I am very familiar with the unknown now. I've made it my friend. It's kind and gentle with me right now, but I do feel the known creeping in. Directives are amping up, and clarity forms. Ah... Either way, I'm okay. Here's what I do know -- What lies ahead is magnificent. It is what I've been waiting lifetimes for. I feel it. I revel in it. I bask in it. My breath calms. My heart beats softly, and smiles come easily.

I have watched today unfold as one beautiful experience after another appeared. Kindness and compassion have been the rule of the day. I have been moved to tears by the absolute generosity of those I haven't even met yet. My heart has blossomed. I have learned to love all, the sadness, the dissipating anger, and most of all, the infinite amount of love and light that have been pouring into my home in quantities that I've never experienced before.

I have learned that there is no need to worry about anything. I have learned to let go of the cliff and jump, to drop my hands from the steering wheel and allow Source to take over. Because of these lessons my life is a series of unfurling miracles. I. Am. Touched. Deeply.

For now, I am out of words to express my deepest gratitude for all.

Moving Forward by Going Back Where I Belong

Back in 1970 my life took a slight turn. I heard John Denver's music and never remained the same. It was certainly not popular to be a John Denver fan, much less a Texan who moved to Colorado four years later because of him and his love of the state. My dream had been to live in Aspen. I thought that dream had fallen by the wayside, but lo and behold all these years later I find it to be alive and well in my heart.

I've been to Aspen several times. The first one in 1975. Every time life would become too much for me, I'd head to Aspen. As a wife and mother I ventured there several times to get closer to what felt good to me. I've been to John's house. I've been to his Windstar Foundation more times than I could count. I've been up close and personal with his jet at the Aspen airport, but what I didn't count on was the relationship I would have with him after his death.

In 2004 I had what has since been known to me as an incredible spiritual awakening, and it was John Denver-inspired. I learned that he was almost constantly with me providing me information of what I needed to do next. I had just built a magnificent dream home, and I was readying myself to move out of it after just a year of being there. I was ending a 27 1/2 year marriage, and I was training to become a pilot. And the desire to move to Aspen amped up tremendously. I tried for two years to get myself situated in that town but with no luck. Instead in an instant my life plan changed to Steamboat Springs, Colorado, a town where I knew two people and been to just two times. I never felt it was home, but the situation opened up and I slid into town. I remember looking in my rearview mirror on my way down my driveway the day I was moving to Steamboat. I was crying and said, "You better know what you're doing because Steamboat's not Aspen." A snake slithered across the drive, and I slammed on my brakes to keep from hitting it when I heard: "I will lead you to people who will bring you closer to me."

The first person I met in Steamboat was a shaman who showed up in town the same time I did. We both looked at each other and asked at the same time, "What are you doing here?" Neither one of us knew. Within weeks I was managing his office. After working with him and his wife for several months, his wife, Sarah, and I were waiting for him to finish for the evening. She asked me my story about my own spiritual awakening. I told her how it unfolded with all the myriad John Denver inclusions. She asked me if I'd told her husband. I said no. She let me know it was imperative for me to share the story when he came out of his treatment room.

So, I did. I told him all, and I watched his face grow pale. I saw him back up to the front desk and hold onto the counter. When I finished, he looked straight at me and said, "John and I were really good friends, brothers in previous lives."

Through Rob I got to know a John Denver I wouldn't have known otherwise. We began working in Aspen several days a week, and I met more and more of John's friends. I listened to story after story of him. I got to know the stories behind the songs, how they were written and when.

In 2008 I thought my time in Colorado was over. I thought my time with my shaman and John Denver was through. I was wrong. I have recently -- very recently -- been "given notice" to get myself back to Aspen. After years of no signs of John, he's been with me pretty darn consistently now. This time I'm relaxing into the journey because I've already been through so much with following my guidance, and I have never been steered wrong. Every single time I've followed my heart I've been greatly rewarded. Each experience has been extraordinary. This time though I know it's what I've been waiting lifetimes for. This is the show of my life. I'm not sure what it's to look like, but I'm game for the thrill of it all. I know it will be a thrill because I feel it, and I trust the information that's coming to me. I am stepping forward with a touch of fear, but also with happiness in anticipation. Watching the above video made me remember all the times I've flown over Aspen and surrounding mountains. It brought back to me the wonderful memories of how those private flights altered who I was. And now I'm going back an even better version of myself because I'm ready to show up authentically and more sure of who I am. The five-year detour has been a journey of my lifetime, and I am incredibly grateful.

Letting Go

I just read this on my FB page: "Let go of your past and your past will let go of you."

Let Go has been my mantra for a while now. I don't hold onto things. I have revamped, reshaped, redesigned my life over and over and over. And, I am doing it again. Every day. Every moment. The more I read and study and meditate, the more I realize the importance of letting go, giving up the illusion of having control. I call it white knuckling life, holding on with a death grip as if my anxiety over the outcome of something will really change a thing. It never has.

So now I sit in tranquility in peaceful surroundings with beautiful beings and I breathe easily. I was taught years ago to live my life in ease and grace, and I feel I have slowly put that on the back burner for the last few years. I am uncovering the layers I've wrapped myself in and now discovering the space and inclination to spread my wings with love.

I want to say that I'm starting over, but that would be incorrect. I'm returning to who I really am. I'm living my life with wings unfurled and reuniting with some of my greatest teachers. I'm not going back as much as moving forward with greater maturity and deeper calmness. I think of those who journeyed with me in my Steamboat Springs, Colorado days, it seems that they are the ones who truly knew me most authentically because I created with them a space of growth in my own spirituality. The magnitude of layers that I cut through back then was only the beginning. I took what I had learned and experienced in my spiritual growth and set foot on soils that weren't so open to what I knew myself to be. I allowed my environment to mold me instead of the other way around because I was scared. Scared of the unknown. Scared of not fitting in. Scared of being "found out."

Well, I'm outing myself now so that being scared of that is no longer possible. I am a spiritual being that happens to be experiencing humanness. When I feel into who I really am there is no being scared. There is no need. There is only the known, and that is love, love beyond words and imagining. I have packed my bags again to set out on the next leg of my journey called life. I am unencumbered and full of peace. That's not to say that scared moments don't creep in, because they do. This time however, peace is at the ready. I just breathe it in and remember who I am. The details fall away. The happiness factor revs up, because as I look back on all that has unfolded so far I can't help but relax in the momentum that propels me forward. The people that have showed up in my life and the assistance they have given are beyond my wildest imagination. I let go of being in control, and let the doors open. I allowed the Universe to bend for me. I am grateful beyond words. This next step, whatever it is, I will take with a smile on my face.

Making whimsy

 My Facebook page is filled with posts on the incredible energies surrounding the planet right now, and I don't know about anyone else, but I sure am feeling it. I've thought about jumping out of my skin or losing my mind, and maybe I've done a little of both, but what I've recently added to the mix is making whimsy for walls. I love seeing the progression my creativity is taking me. This is the first one and it has the most fabric in it, meaning that I've made the tree and the person almost totally out of fabric. I've dolled up her hair with embroidery floss that was tie-dyed by my partner, Dan. As a matter of fact all the fabrics on the front of this piece are from his own creative mastery of  tie-dye magic.

Here's a picture of my second attempt. I got a little more cocky with the fabric markers and less into the fabric. I've been doing a bit of doodling lately to calm the crazies that show up every now and then. It's very meditative for me to sit with pen in hand and doodle the hours away. My breathing slows dramatically and I feel better in no time. Making my dresses is a much speedier process with a serger that goes faster than an Andretti on a race track. So, for now I'm tip toeing through the Sharpie marker world and seeing what shows up. 







Sometimes my own photography leaves much to be desired so let's just have a little closer look at these two to see what kind of shenanigans they're up to.

 

 

I have no idea what's going on. I just sit down on the floor or loveseat with my little pieces of fabric, thread, and markers and just let the process begin. I don't have preconceived ideas. I just know that I need to slow down, breathe, and let it happen. Whenever I get my head involved - my wacky thoughts - it muddles the process and I usually don't like what I've done.  These two little creatures just tickle me. That's all I have to say about them -- except that I'm glad they showed up. They make me smile.

Strawberry Wine

 We have a friend who has given us homemade wine since I've lived here. It's the only wine that I can drink without having any side effects whatsoever. When I drink it, I savor the fruits (or flower petals) that it was made from. I know the extent that my friend has gone through to make his wines because now I've been working on my own (with great assistance and guidance from him -- thank you, Ron!)

This morning when we stopped by to pick up some racking equipment from him, he walked out the front door with two plates of egg sandwiches and a bean and squash mixture that made me think I'd died and gone to heaven. We sat out on his front porch and ate to our hearts' content.

Here he is on his front porch on Father's Day. I was not handy with a camera this morning because I was too busy eating.

But first, before we had breakfast on his front porch, we picked strawberries. In Central New York there are strawberry fields all over the place to pick and pick and pick. So, we do.

And then after the picking, is the stemming and the washing, as I'm doing in the background of this picture. Dan's the photog extraordinaire and I'm the stemmer at the helm. In our household we can't just do something without documenting it, so here are some more pictures of the strawberries freshly washed and ready to be smashed and loaded into the ale pail.

But, before we go to the mixing in the ale pail you must view the strawberries as they were all lined up waiting for their transformation...

Sixteen and a half pounds of strawberry goodness ready for the next phase.

See all those little bubbles in there? It's the yeast going crazy. It popped the lid off the pail twice! So, now it's time to put it in a carboy and let it sit for six weeks. My babysitting days are over then. Well, at least until the blackberries come in...

I Heart CNY

It's official. I heart it here. And, here being Central New York which encompasses so much more than the town in which I live. Right now the sun's shining, the breeze is blowing lightly. The strawberries are ready for picking. Birds are singing, and bees are humming. It truly is my most favorite time in this area. It helps me to forget the brutal months of staying indoors I just endured.

We have a deck on the back of the house where I love to sit outside and enjoy my morning coffee. This morning I actually took a book outside thinking I'd read and sip, but how could I when a squirrel came over to try and bite into Dan's brick bread? You know, the kind where the yeast is dead. The squirrel grabbed the chunk with both his paws. I saw him struggle to sink his teeth into it, but he gave up and ran to the garden for a strawberry instead. Much softer.

This garden is the first one I've planted since 2005. I inspect my little plantation while sitting on the deck with my coffee and watch the robins scavenge for worms, and yes of course, the squirrels picking the strawberries. It's the best "TV" watching ever. In the evenings I come home from wherever it is that Dan and I have scampered off too, and I hand water the garden because it's comforting. I can feel my heartbeat lower, and my breathing go deeper. Whatever cares I had before entering my little patch of earthly heaven are absolutely gone while I watch over my squash unfurl its leaves, and my sweet peas climb up their little fence.

You can see the corn shooting from the ground. I just planted Mammoth Sunflower seeds in a row to the north of the corn. There's also coriander, turnips, broccoli, beans, cilantro, carrots, and small basil near the crop of beans. On the far side of the garden near the "squirrel ski jump" I planted lettuce, turnips, radishes, chives, and onions.

We've already made several salads with the likes of them. There is nothing like going out to my garden, picking salad fixings with the seeds I planted weeks ago, and serving them up on the table outside. Ah...