I was especially interested in some of the musicians at the Anchorage Folk Festival who had succeeded in taking a complete stance within a musical tradition and conveying that fully and completely to the audience.  They certainly seemed to have the intention of giving themselves completely to the task and to serving the audience (and also, perhaps, to something greater than the audience sitting in the seats).  There was the sense that they had made a choice and put everything into bringing forth that choice with a sense of joy-filled service.

To me, this is art at its peak. It transcends self-gratification and becomes conscious surrender to something more than one’s small self,  no matter what it takes. The motive, at least for that part of one’s existence, is to surrender to the whole.  When these musicians played, they were, to me,  an example of the part surrendering back to the whole– through self-effort.

I was then, as a listener, able to experience my own inner ecstasy.

At some point on the path of inner evolution, it seems that one does learn to give oneself completely to one’s actions. The actions do not need to be creative or artistic. They can be the actions of everyday life. And, in fact, we must come to the point where we do do this for every tiny action in our lives (if we wish to experience our true wholeness).

When I admit to myself that I am the whole, that I am everything– not just a part, a piece–  I am no longer lacking, bereft, desiring that which I do not have. I am beginning to see that I can make this choice in perception.

It’s not that I am separate and am asking to be whole. It is that I have always been whole but under the illusion that I am separate.

The bud
stands for all things,
even for those things that don’t flower,
for everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing;
though sometimes it is necessary
to reteach a thing its loveliness,
to put a hand on its brow
of the flower
and retell it in words and in touch
it is lovely
until it flowers again from within, of self-blessing.

by Galway Kinnell

A simple goal is to make my bed. My senses can tell me if I achieved that goal. An intention would be to make my bed with an attitude of playfulness. An intention takes us beyond the realm of doing into the realm of being. It requires more than just “getting something done.” Intention has to do with the state of being. It is not nearly as obvious to most, this state of being, as is the “doing” or “function”  part.

Now I am remembering the trio of function, being, and will, how all are interrelated and important in the process of transformation of being.

This morning I woke to the inspiration of “streamlining my life” in 2014. Reading “Flylady” and Molly Gorden email letters together reminded  me that I really want to do this in 2014.

My son Ben and I had a discussion about how constant reassessment/ streamlining is necessary as we walk the path toward goals.

What is the balance point between goals set for the future and the reality of constant change? How do we avoid either being stuck in rigid thinking that we must do exactly what we said we would in the future (as predicated by the mind)–or– wallowing in unfocused action?

The key factor is, I believe, discerned intention. Discerned intention requires that I be present, aware, awake in the moment. Inspired by Molly Gordon’s term “template,” I had a vision of a snowflake template of discerned intention constellating the nature of the present moment. This process is the balancing factor between the eternal and the world of change.

It is certainly possible to set a goal and travel down an unswerving road to achieving it through self will (ego). For that I do not have to attain the Witness state. But if I wish to remain aligned with the larger reality, I need to be present to subtle, fluctuating change which may require an adjustment of my goals.

Practicing mindful attention and refining my ability to set intention are indispensable ingredients. I create an intention while in a state of mindfulness. I assess the results of working with that intention mindfully. I form a new intention based on what I learn. In this way I form a “living trajectory” instead of “one straight inviolable line” to what “I” want. (Which seldom works anyway.)

I see now as I read this that I must differentiate between the meaning of  “goal” and “intention.”

I never met my “real” grandpa, John Paul McDowell. He died when my dad was 14 years old. (Nevertheless, in the last few years I have felt closer and closer to him.)

The man that my grandma “Gusty May Bennett McDowell Bennett” married after my real grandpa died was the one I met. I always felt that Arthur was my grandpa, and now I think how lucky I was to have three grandpas!

Arthur Bennett was the third grandpa, the step grandpa*. I didn’t see him a lot, because our family had to make the long journey from Pennsylvania to Missouri to see Grandma and Grandpa. We didn’t have a lot of money and my dad only had so much vacation time from work. Nevertheless, Art was my grandpa. And what a grandpa he was!

Art had lived in a small area of the Ozarks all of his life, except for some time spent in St. Louis. It was as if he was part and parcel of the land he lived on. When he walked, the land was walking. When he talked, the land was talking.  When he breathed, the land was breathing. Everyone in the area knew him, and by the time I was a kid, he was respected as an elder of that place.

This type of person has always intrigued me. Someone who has lived in a place fully and without reservation. Someone who has accepted that that place is enough. He/she is married to that place and takes complete sustenance from it. This person may know of other places on earth but that doesn’t keep them from their steady stance in that one place where they belong.

I am grateful to have had my third grandpa teach me something that is now informing my process of integrating myself with place.

* My mother’s father, from York, PA, was Chester Samuel Ely.

Coming home, for whatever else it is, is certainly coming home to the body. This morning I noticed two things in particular in this regard. I awakened being especially aware of my flesh as flesh– with its unique resilient pliability. The first sound I heard through the open window was the sound of a raven flying and cawing; the ravens come into town each winter morning from far-flung places. I heard that  caw in my heart as well as my ears.

The meditative efforts I have been making are in part “open-eyed” meditation with sensory awareness. In this way the senses become gateways to the heart; they become “sanctified.”  The body becomes a holy place. As many traditions have stated, the body is one’s temple.

This coming home to the body goes along with coming home to the land, the earth. When I strive for awareness in this body, I do connect with the earth, for we are one.

Certain places I have been are potent “spiritual” places and I find that I can “be” in those places and avail myself of their power and holiness no matter far away they might be. One such place for me is Notre Dame de Paris. In 2009, our family ended up staying in a very old apartment building within sight of Notre Dame and we visited it many times within the space of a week. I am hoping to continue invoking the essence of places that, for me, are charged with the evocative energy of heaven and earth coming together. For me, coming home to my body and coming home to “place” go together.

Peace mounts to the heavens, the heavens descend to earth, earth lies under the heavens, everyone is strong.

–Victory Song of the Morrigan, Book of Fermoy

The rush and pressure of modern life are a form, perhaps the most common form, of its innate violence. To allow oneself to be carried away by a multitude of conflicting concerns, to surrender to too many demands, to commit oneself to too many projects, to want to help everyone in everything is to succumb to violence. More than that, it is cooperation in violence. The frenzy of the activist…destroys his own inner capacity for peace. It destroys the fruitfulness of his own work, because it kills the root of inner wisdom which makes work fruitful.

–Thomas Merton

(Thanks to Rhonda Johnson.)

I have found that my nature meditations and the drawing process bring me a heightened sense of awareness within a particular place. The earth, all of Nature,  and people (including their buildings, objects, etc.), come together in a more integrated manner in my perception as I meditate and draw with mindfulness. My hope is that “place” will also benefit from this work.

I have already begun to make a shift in my storytelling work– telling a story “to” and “for” a place. That seems unusual, as storytelling is usually thought of as entertainment, etc., for people, for an audience. Perhaps the audience can be much broader than the individuals gathered. Perhaps a story can be told for a place, to evoke the essence of that place and uplift it and all who happen to be there– from “beneath the ground” up.

Drawing can also be a way to uplift and “mend” place– especially when it is done as mindfulness practice where the earth and Nature are held in my awareness.

In the “civilized” world, so often we do things to a place that tear it away from the land beneath it, from Mother Earth and the elements. Both the land and its inhabitants are diminished.

My wish is to help bring us and Nature back into balance, into a state of reintegration. The project is done at specific sites  by : discerning the essence of the site from “under the ground up”– and offering story, drawing, and uplifting ritual* to that place.

This work has already to begun to heal me, and I hope to refine, focus, and continue with it, so I can be more inclusive than ever before of “place.”

I am encouraged by what folks are doing locally to uplift “place” — turning lawns into gardens is just one example. I feel that this work will also be of benefit, one small place at a time. Even so, it is big work, and it is a little scary to me.

* I am a CCW facilitator– Crystalline Consciousness Work. This work employs the help of the crystalline aspect of Nature to awaken individuals and the land to their highest potential. In the case of humans, we know that we use only a portion of our potential; we are capable of a much more integrated, conscious, and loving way of perceiving, being, acting. We are capable of acting from discerned intention for the good of all. For this reason, many are currently engaging in mindfulness practices. The CCW work amplifies these mindfulness practices so that they become even more effective. Our “latent potential” blooms at an accelerating rate.

During my nature meditations of three recent mornings I have  put my attention on the snow. Each time, a different quality was revealed: flawlessness, adhering, malleable. I have noticed this before, that any one aspect of nature is multi-faceted and can teach me what I need to learn at that particular time. I don’t just get a word; I get an experience in my own being of the substance of the word. This then helps me to return to mindfulness during the day from a vantage point bestowed by my meditation. This is important– I am not working out of a mental concept or idea, but with a real experience, a new sense of self.

Over time, these meditations, based on a quieted mind, build upon one another to give me an expanded sense of self. I realize that I am more than I thought I was, and I feel progressively freed from judgmental thinking.

Come forth into the light of things. Let nature be your teacher.

— William Wordsworth