Author: Gin Getz

On Death, Dying and Depression: Dealing with our Darkest Days.

/ Gin Getz / 17 Comments

~

Finding a bright side to a dark situation.

Going with it. Allowing it.  Honoring it.  Moving beyond not in spite of, but because of.

Because we can learn the greatest lessons from our darkest days.

This is the natural cycle of life. And death.

~

This is not what I meant to write about this week.  A whole essay on another topic open on my desk top ready to share with you.  It can wait.  This came up. And so we go with it. Ride the waves of life. For to miss out is to lose those greatest lessons.  This is living.

~

Here in the high country, rain and hail continue. Clear mornings bring heavy frost. Clouds amass by mid day and the sky is awash in striations of deep grey by afternoon. Maybe in evening after a good downpour, the sun will break through far to the west and illuminate the tops of the snow covered peaks, glowing like stars on top a Christmas tree.

Leaves challenge the elements and slowly emerge, blending hillsides of the most vibrant greens into bands of waving white above tree line. Dandelions are quick to open their sunny faces in fleeting moments of sunny skies, and tuck themselves in with a sense of self preservation and practicality when the clouds wash over again.

Now is the time of rebirth, yet what I feel is the oppression of loss.

No one I know has recently died, nothing has changed, nothing is really wrong.

And yet, I feel I have lost something.

Something deep and primal and personal and essential.

A part of myself.

And for that part, that something I can not fully define, I find myself in mourning.

Amazing we can feel this way, so strongly, when on the outside it appears everything in our lives is “just fine.”

~

I need to rant.  Please bear with me. I think you can take this, and maybe, just maybe, you’ve felt this way too.

Winter was hard.  It’s a long story; I won’t bore you with it now.  But the season on one hand left me empowered and with new focus; and on the other left me tired, empty, something in me missing, hurt, off, wrong.  The wind got me.  That sounds weird and I don’t really understand how and I can’t explain it better than that, and believe me, it doesn’t make much sense to me either.  But I think that’s what it was. The wind.

I thought I was strong.  Impenetrable.  (At times we may find we are weaker than we think, and the lesson may be in finding the beauty in that softness which only weakness allows.)  Well, I don’t particularly want to be weak, so I went to a Traditional Chinese Medicine doctor and she noticed the wind right away.  She said my chi was weakened and the wind got in me and got me bad.  Believe what you wish, think what you want, this really made sense to me.  It just felt right.  Something deep inside was off and needed to get grounded.

So, I’ve been working to balance my chi again, and thought I was doing well… but then suddenly… WHAM.

Suddenly I am sad, angry and depressed.

What triggered this? Where does this stuff come from?  I thought I was doing great… everything was fine.

I walk down to my beloved bridge – my way to get away – and the river is so crazy high with spring melt off from the warm temperatures mixed with the abundance of rain, swirling café au lait colored brown and raging, loud, wild, powerful and intense like I have never felt her run before… and I just sit there, legs dangling off the bridge in the middle of all this powerful water… and I cry.  Hard.  I have visions of falling into that water. I think how easy it would be. Just let go, slip away. No more problems, confusion, hurt… But I don’t want to end my life or miss out on what will be or cause pain to others.

What then, can I do to end this suffering?

Don’t worry, I won’t kill myself. I’m not suicidal.  I’m just really sick of life today.

~

The next day, I walk back down to the river, that bridge, and stand there over the mighty river and smile. The sun shines warm on my face and my husband holds me and says just the right things, and my dog sits by my side as I stop and listen to the strong white noise and I can’t imagine a better life.

~
Nuts, you may say.

Maybe so.

Or maybe, just maybe, this is living life, wild and free.

And what can we do but go with it, and make the most of it?

~

Considering balance.  Our life is fuller if we allow the cycle of life to ebb and flow and even over flow at times. Remaining in balance at all times denies us this vast array of human emotions, creative expression, wild adventures, amazing acts of beautiful passion and tremendous bravery, and ultimately, great achievements.  Balance is an over-touted safety net by which we can remain level, in line.  Mediocrity, if you ask me. And missing out.  It’s not easy, riding the pendulum, but it’s a wild ride, and well worthwhile. And I’m just starting to get it: this is what living life fully means.

(More on this can be found in the fabulous excerpts from this week’s Brain Pickings.)

What can I say?  Don’t say a thing.  Instead, let’s hold on to our hats and stand out in the wind and pouring rain, raise our heads back and howl!

Because remember this too:  What about love?  What is level and balanced about love? Would you be willing to miss out on love in order to keep your cool and maintain control and live your life well balanced?

~

And yes, that means risking a broken heart.

A little bit of death every time.

Would you have it any other way?
~

And so we must die. Leave the past behind.

What does it mean to die and remain among the living?

Is this not an intense part of the spiritual journey, and like all experiences, unique to each of us?

Giving everything, going to the ends, letting go, a complete release, and opening up to that which is absolutely new.

Or do we prefer to let go of those extremes, find center, be steady and stable and secure, and live life only from that balance point?

There is no one right way.

What way do you choose?

I won’t tell you your way is wrong if you won’t tell me mine is.

~

Suddenly in meditation it all makes sense.  Fleeting glimpses of great wisdom and the Divine.  The intensity is intoxicating, though it does not last long.  I don’t have the answers, but the questions become more clear, and I can’t help but want to know more…

~

There is such comfort in knowing we are not the only one. And so I share this, with you.  Maybe you’ll think I’m nuts, and prefer to remain safe and stable. Or maybe you’ll feel this way too.

~

Dear Amy of SoulDipper shares the following wisdom:

We do have to die before we are reborn.  One book used in my study of the mystical principles in Sufism (borne from the wisdom of the Desert Fathers) contains a chapter titled “Die Before You Die”.    

…Rumi, the poet who was a devout Sufi, is also quoted in the chapter.  He wrote:  

The mystery of “Die before you die” is this:
that the gifts come after your dying, and not before.
Except for dying, you artful schemer,
no other skill impressed God.  One Divine gift
is better than a hundred kinds of exertion.
Your efforts are assailed from a hundred sides,
and the favor depends on your dying.
The trustworthy have already put this to the test.
(Mathnawi, VI, 3837-40)

(Amy is a wonderful friend, well known resource, powerful guide, and fellow soul searcher along this journey.  She offers two invaluable services for the awakening mind. First is her Operation Blind Spot, helping you help yourself in understanding, accepting and healing your past.  Second are her Intuitive Sessions, channeled readings bringing insight and wisdom into the Self through spirit guides, and ultimately, through the Divine.)

~

Can we call it depression in the literary sense, not the clinical:  low, slow, down, dull?

Finding a bright side to a dark situation… for is not depression a little bit of our soul dying and being reborn with every wave?

I think those of us who think a lot about things like… say… life… are going to have our spells.  How could we not?

We are not taught to treat ourselves, to trust ourselves and even to understand ourselves.

I am challenging you to begin. With me.  Let’s give it a try.

To clarify depression, I do not mean the clinical term but the emotional state.  As in sad, down, low, dull (for none of us can be up, high, bright and light all the time!).

The label of Depression for disease, chemical imbalance, mental illness are of separate concern and beyond my realm.  Not that I don’t want to give this matter value, but I don’t deal with labels (nor the medical model).  I deal with life, and hope to share my little glimpses with you, not take on medical assumptions.

What I speak of here is the inner turmoil of the eternal seeker.  The natural part of life for those living fully.  The low on the waves, the ebb of the tide, and dark cycle of the changing moon.  To avoid darkness is to deny half of our life.

As we are all unique, so are our maladies, and so are our treatments.  Listen to yourself; trust yourself; know that you are your own best excerpt – no one knows you better than you know yourself. And yes, sometimes knowing our selves means knowing when to turn to others for help…

For those of us for whom depression is but a dark spot to dive into, it serves as an opening to the light on the other side.  Maybe a cliché.  But you get what I mean.

~

Because there must be death before new life.

Leaves will wither and fall before new buds emerge.

Which promise then new blossoms, fragrant and bright and wild.

~

My husband tells me he was told you haven’t really lived if you never thought of dying.

~

Does the cycle ever end?

What would the alternative be?  Balance?

Missing out on the lows would mean missing out on the highs.

Am I willing to forgo all that to remain somewhere safe?

~

At times I am tempted, but these times do not remain for long.

I return to life with a childlike zeal and curiosity and passion.

Lost as the young women I try to help.

How can I help when I don’t know the answers?

Somehow just being there, reminding others they are not alone, you are not the only one and this is not wrong… in fact, within this is something very beautiful indeed.

I am still on the path.

Walking beside.

Some days wildly wandering.

~

I don’t know where I am going with my writing.

I don’t know where I am going with my life.

Saying that at nearly fifty seems wrong.

I want to know. I think.

Some days I don’t want to be searching still.

I want to have found the answers.

Truth.

Maybe we never do.

So, I write.

Words come.

I can’t keep up though I try, and have no idea where these words will lead me, will lead you, if you will even read.  And somehow this matters, not for vanity so much as sanity, and just the same, I must write.

I want to reach people, help people, that’s why I write, I think that’s why words come to me, through me.

Some days I just don’t know.

Maybe today is one of those days.

Tomorrow will be different.

~

After nearly fifty years of asking questions, suddenly I find myself being asked the very questions I have asked a hundred times. Although I still feel so often like a child in body, heart and mind, what others see must be different:  graying hair and spreading wrinkles like hoar frost on a winter morning.

The natural progression of things. I’m not sure I understand, but go along with it. What else can I do?

This is the curious order of awakening minds.

And the random wisdom we share,

as both the asker and teller

Receive.

~

Widen your gaze!

Embrace all of life.

The light and the dark.

My world is wild, and natural, and trusting and nurturing.  It’s cruel, harsh and raw and real at times, and more beautiful than anything I could dream up other times.  I don’t want to refute, refuse or change my world, only make the most of it, be fully connected, and do my best to understand, integrate, and be one with it all.

I want to live.

As fully as I can.

~

Working in the high country yesterday, along the Continental Divide.  Pouring rain, soaked through slickers and boots well packed with mud and I’m just grateful it’s not snowing.  We’re wet and chilled and working with saw, shovel and ax until we feel we can’t do more and then of course we do a little more because really it just feels so good to be out there in the elements and giving our all and this is living, and that’s how I feel so alive.

~

Once again, I am re-born.

~ ~ ~

 

Creating Connection: Finding Balance Between Nature and Man.

/ Gin Getz / 7 Comments

gunnar on walk

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Random thoughts on awakening where we are.

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We are all connected.

Then why too often do we feel so alone?

~

Within us all is a universal need to find our sense of community, of belonging within this big beautiful world; to find the special place where we belong, the special few to whom we belong.

~

I want to belong.

(Don’t we all?)

And yet, here I am.

Hiding in the trees.

Is not, then, here

where I belong?

~

Here, it is all around.
Surrounding, encompassing, embracing.

My community, where I belong, where I find myself, allow myself to be.

Nature and the wilds.

 

For half of the year, a white, still, silence shared between the trees and me.

Now, a passing motion, stirred by the heavy rains on raw spring soil.  Rocks shifting in loose dirt, river roaring brown. Trees holding vigil as the seasons come and go and come again.

Slowly the mountain livens not with her accord but for the elk, deer, hummingbirds and humans that begin to migrate upwards.

~

And still, I reach for more.

The challenge of finding our place and space.

Becoming or creating a community to which we can be apart.

Expansive and inclusive.

Challenging and creative.

When it’s too easy to fall for same, similar, safe, close, closed.

 

Community can be that which awakens us, or that which suppresses us.

The choice is ours.

 

Community can be the pillow of protection, surrounding us with assurance.

Or it can be a matter of contention, rebellion.

The comfort of connection, or the battle to define one’s self.

Seal ones position or deny one’s place.

Surrounded by like minds, or contrary minds.

Absorbed in a similar reality, or forced to defend your views, define your truths.

What are your challenges in finding where we are meant to be?

~

Being a part, or being apart.

As we can not be all places at all times, or all things to all people, how do we realize the Self and place of Self within our world?

~

Here in the high country, spring is late to come. The leaves are only now opening and will remain attached for merely four months, at which point the trees release and we begin the big slumber that remains here for half the year, while the other three season share the other half.

Spring is a time of adjustments when I go from being the happy hermit to becoming the social misfit.

It is happening now.

~

Some days

I feel

closed in

Today

People in four directions

When what I reach for is

air earth water trees

 

Naked branches suddenly

thickening with leaves

views enclosed and narrowing

Silenced is the rushing river

 

Tonight in moist and mild spring air

I see lights in strange cabins

Brighter than the big spring moon

Dancing silver on winding river

 

I lose touch

With  her

With me

 

Now is the time

I hole up

Withdraw

Turtle retreats to his shell

 

Is that where he belongs?

~

So, we’re coming out of the Wilderness. My dog and me.  I am armed with my camera. Nothing more.  Perhaps a half eaten granola bar in one pocket, a bandana in another, and chapstick in the third. What more do I need for a day hike?

 

What should I really fear our here that I cannot handle? What are we told?  Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!  Yes, we have those.  But it’s not them I have learned to look out for.

 

We’ve been hiking for how many hours, how many miles, on a trail that has not been used since the hunters were run off the mountain in last November’s snows.  Tracks of elk, moose, deer, coyote. And my dog and me.

 

We’re almost back to the trailhead, and it feels like returning to civilization. This is often a strange and bittersweet place to find myself.  My dog is ahead of me.  I see movement just past the trees, so quite calmly I say, “Gunnar, wait.”  He stops in his tracks and waits.  Good boy.

Two more steps reveal a woman in day-glow colors and day pack, and odder  to me still, a man with a big stick in both hands, held over his head, shaking it at my dog, who reads people well enough to know not to get close to this one.

 

Maybe it was Bear Phobia. Here he is, going into the Wilderness, and you know what he thinks he’ll see.  Not some little wild woman and her friendly dog.

 

Is he friendly, the man asks, still shaking the big stick.  Yes, I reply, he is.  I call my pup and continue on, growling beneath my breath something about how I’m the one he should watch out for, not my dog…

 

See, it’s not the bears I’m afraid of up here.  It’s the people.

 

This was my first chance encounter with the human race on this mountain this year.

Is it any wonder why I long for the return of winter?

~

Take a deep breath.

Don’t go there, I remind myself.

Open up.

What matters more than connection?

We are all connected.

Then why do I feel so detached?

~

Here I watch people come, people go. At times my heart sings when they leave; other times it aches as they vanish like a passing storm that left the soil soft and ripe.

With each chance encounter, we have the opportunity to learn, laugh, love.

Upon fertile grounds of compassion, we open, expose our souls, and though we risk being left empty when they take what they want or need and leave, we also chance a great awakening, or a simple story, or something beautiful shared.

Passing though, they come and go, unlike the certainty of the seasons, but with the season.

~

For years I fought to leave

Time and again, she pulled me back

(kicking and screaming at times)

And tied me down

Only now do I see here is where I belong

Not because I have given up, but because I have opened up.

~

My community, I found in the trees.

~

Here we learn the natural adjustment to the seasons.

The cycle of life

To which we are a part

Neither above nor beyond.

~

As the leaves emerge bright and shiny and as suddenly the size of squirrels’ ears, only to fill out and wash the hills in a lush green wave, until the brilliant gold of late September in long shadows lays the land back to rest, and under the white we remain.

~

Expand into this world

Like breathing…

~

There is neither right nor wrong

There just is.

Along with our need to find our place

Within some precast mold to which we may not fit.

And when we learn to let go

And be

We may find ourselves

Way out here.

And still

Fully connected

A part of it all.

~

Still…

I sit with the evening sun on my face

Bound by the lull of a rushing stream

Dandelions aglow on the moist hill on which we rest

Leaning on and into each other, wordless now, my husband and I

The dog on vigil behind us

And…

For one beautiful moment

This is exactly where I belong.

Where I want to be, without wanting more

It feels so right to say that, to know that, to feel that,

to finally believe that,

until the wind reminds us to leave.

The adventure of standing still.

~

Am I wrong to say this is where I belong

This is my community

And find connection, wisdom, soul

In wind, water, bark and branches?

~

Do trees have soul?

The collective soul.

These are the old wise ones.

~

A walk deep in the woods with a small glass jar in one hand, sticky fingers in the other, gathering pitch from my beloved once blue spruce. The old ones, the big ones, are now long gone; their sap dried and brushed into the earth by elements and time. Now it is the smaller ones putting out their last liquid essence in a vain attempt to hold life, when what they are doing is dying.  I am collecting the blood and tears of their wounds to create a healing salve. To honor my neighbors, my friends.

As I reach into the dried bare branches once green and lush and flexible, snapping them off with no more than the weight of my extended arm, stretching towards the last of their golden, glowing life oozing through their wounds, my flesh is scored by a broken branch. My tears and blood blend with theirs.  Different colors, mine warm and red, and yet all the same, is it not?

 

Their souls remain after the needles fall.  Perhaps a secret stillness remaining in their roots for a year or more in the silent soil.

And then they are silent.

Where do their souls move onto?

~

In  winter

I bloom

Fragrant and bright and wild

 

Where am I going,

you ask

And I tell you

I do not know.

~

alyssa 2

~

A Meditation on Simplicity

/ Gin Getz / 4 Comments

~

sweet alyssa 2

~

We live in the daze of busy-ness.

We’ve got one hand swiping the big screen trying to keep up with the latest greatest, and a phone (yes, we still call these things “phones”)  in the other with a text coming in, post going out, photo being shared, a meeting coming up, appointments overlapping, multi-tasking, yet, sorry, we’ve been crazy busy and we don’t have time and got to go ‘cause we’re running late for what we’re not so sure but we know it’s the thing, think it’s important, are certain it matters and we don’t want to miss out.

We’re caught up in this epidemic of busy-ness.  The social norm. Self created.  Self inflicted.  Some days we feel sucked in, stuck and see no way out of this powerful spinning spiral. This is just how it is.

It’s all about accomplishment, achievement, goals and success…

Or is it?  For who defines your success?

As if busy-ness might bring us self worth and social status, help us understand where we are in the bigger picture, and what we’re all about.

Does it?

We’re usually too busy to be certain.

On the other end, there is stillness, silence, just being.

Nice as that sounds, really, we don’t have time for those things.

We don’t take the time. We’re completely caught up in this cycle. Too much else going on.  Big stuff.  Important stuff.  And really, we’re pretty important people. You know how it is.

Simplicity seems so far away.

But if we stop for just a second and take a serious look, we’ll see it’s pretty darned close.  It’s just a matter of choice.  If you’re ready, you can choose it. Just for a minute. Try it. The world will go on just fine without you.

And if you’re not, that’s okay too.  Keep on going as you were.  If that’s working for you, great.  No need to read on.  Keep on with what you were doing, because chances are, it’s a Very Important Thing.

~

Simplicity.  Sounds so simple.  Maybe it is.  Maybe we just make it complicated. By choice.  Just a thought, if we choose to take the time to think about it…

Busy-ness has become our comfort zone, our identity, our understanding around which everything else revolves.

What happens if we let go?

Will the bottom fall out and we find ourselves floating, out of control, without the safety of social identity, title, label, status and involvement?

The emperor without his clothes.

What do you think would happen if we release that stigma and allow ourselves to be.

Be what? If you ask that, you’re missing the point.  Just be.  Nothing more.  No strings attached.

Maybe we’ll go through a period of unrest. We’ll get fidgety, restless, look around, at our watch, at someone else, surely we should be doing something.

Because, we are told, something is always better than nothing.

Fill ‘er up, stuff the holes, fill in the cracks, don’t leave yourself with empty space, free time, and certainly not silence.

Free time is frowned upon, unless is snuck in, scheduled or under the disguise of Something Very Important. (Like the number of hours spent at our desk keeping up with Facebook, Twitter and Pinterest when everyone thinks we’re working… we hope.)

Silence, well, few of us know what that is.  Maybe it’s the wind. Flowing water.  A singing robin or rain on the roof. The usual traffic we hear come and go without attachment, or judgment. It just moves like waves, never ending. Silence is without the busy-ness in our head filling up and masking over those background sounds that just are.

Do we think busy-ness will make us more important?  Does being important matter? Why?  And who is to judge?

Of course one might stop to question in all this busy-ness, how much are we actually getting done?  What are we actually accomplishing, and how much does it all really matter?  But I don’t mean to be going there now. (Would you believe I don’t have the time?)  That’s a whole ‘nuther can o’ worms. You can think about that on your own sometime, if you have the time. (or should I say:  if you choose to take the time).

~

Okay, so, now… let it go. All of it.  The phone. The big screen.  The text coming in.  The appointment coming up. The work to be done.  The things you need to do and say, places you need to go… Leave it.

It’s not going anywhere.  It will be there when you’re done.  The world will manage okay for a minute without your help.

Try it.  Just for a second.  And just be.

Do we even know what that means?

We’re told this is idle time.

We catch ourselves scoffing at those sitting around not keeping themselves busy.

We praising the movers and shakers and high powered and popular faces with a thousand friends.

Society is not big on us just being.

Nor do we support it in ourselves.

In nothingness arises the frank confrontation of reality,

Seeing ourselves.

Unadorned by important people, deadlines, pressures, responsibilities, titles and rank.

These things are not you,

They are only what you cling to.

Let them go.

For just a minute.

Let me see the real you.

Unadorned.

Real and raw.

That is the real you.

~

Let’s try it.

Together.

Let’s start by letting go. Slowing down.

Just for a few seconds.

No deadlines, no pressures, no electronic devices.

Nothing we need to do or say, no where we need to go.

Relax your body and clear your mind.

Let thoughts come and go, without holding on, allow them to pass like leaves in the wind or sticks floating down stream

And you remain.

Still, silent.

Nothing.

Is the minute up yet?

Why am I doing this when I should be doing that?

It’s harder than you thought, isn’t it?

I know.

Let’s try again.

A whole minute this time.

Let’s go down to the river, or where ever it is you find your inspiration, and just sit for one minute, breathe, and listen…

Now what?

I dare you to do nothing!

I won’t guide you through the steps.

Maybe there aren’t any.

Maybe that’s the point.

Doing nothing.

Be.

That’s something.

That’s all you have to do, and it’s not as easy as it sounds.

I will only remind you, and you can go yourself.

In your time.

Take your time.

Nothing else matters.

Let go.

Do nothing.

Listen to your breath.

Count on the inhales.

Hold it.

Release on the exhales.

Feel your pulse, your heart, your moving blood.

Flowing like the river.

Watch the world around you.

You are not separate from it.

You are a part of it.

You are the river.

Flow.

Connect.

Go with it.

Let go of self, schedules, deadlines, social status, demands.

Be.

Become.

Think of nothing.

Allow thoughts to come and go, floating down the stream…

What matters more

than the sound of geese

congregating on wet pasture

in cool morning

Or the rising sun

Magenta

striking snow covered ridges

The reflection of clear sky

On a small pond

Mirror images of still leafless trees

Dancing in silky ripples

My  skin

My thoughts

My fears

Let them go.

All the he said

She said

What they think of me

I said too much

Too little

The wrong thing

Let them all go.

How can I hold onto what is gone?

The vibration does not continue

anywhere but in my

Emotive mind when I cling to it.

Let it go.

I am not this hurt

That wound

I am not a word

A story

Or language or sound

I am not what I say

Or what you say

These things come through me

And leave

When they leave my tongue

They are not me, they are not you,

they just are as I just am.

Let the rest go.

And I am what?

What am I left with?

The rock worn smooth

Solid and unmoving

Over which the water flows?

Or am I the water

A part of it

Moving or staying.

Can you tell what it does, where it goes,

What part leaves and what remains,

Or is it all just what it is,

Part of the river, flowing water?

And does that matter anyway?

What matters more

Than the air

Can I say I breathe

As if it were mine

Do I take it

Own it

Use it

Control it

Am I controlled by it

Or am I of it

In it

It

I am none of it

All of it.

Being, Connecting.  Letting the rest go.

Being in the wind, of the sun, a part of the rich damp soil.

Even for just a minute.

~

This is not about going anywhere.

Doing anything.

Accomplishing something

Picturing or focusing on becoming

It’s just about being

Still and silent

Letting it come and go

Without holding on

Without attachment

Or expectations

And yes it is hard

And yes, you can do it.

And so can I.

If we so choose.

A meditation in simplicity.

I cannot sit here and tell you what to do.

I can only encourage you to be your best

While I try to figure out mine

And sometimes our best is nothing.

Just being.

The hardest thing to do.

The hardest thing to be.

~

sweet alyssa 4

~

Shared today on Conscious Life News.

And thanks again to my beautiful model, Sweet, sweet Alyssa.

On Seasons and Enlightenment

/ Gin Getz / 5 Comments

~

spring 2

~

Spring. The season of letting go.

 

So begins the natural year.  Rebirth.  New life.  Last years’ leaves enrich this year soil.  Last year’s blossoms have become this year’s seeds.  Nourish them. Give them room. Allow them to take root. Tend to them wisely and they will grow.

 

Now is the time to get grounded. We can start with Spring Cleaning.

 

~

 

So it’s Spring. Here in the high country it comes in small doses.  Rations.  Little tantalizing tastes. And then another snow storm hits and your world is white and you wonder if that bright green grass was just a dream…

 

Now’s the time of fixing fences, dragging pasture, shoeing horses, getting the stock (and ourselves) in shape for the work of the upcoming season, clearing trail, and up here, always gathering fire wood.

 

All that fun stuff aside, this is the time of year I’m Cabin Cleaner Extraordinaire. Not really the most romantic part of my position in life, but the true meat-and-potatoes. The part that makes the rest of it not only possible, but worthwhile. The part that’s about giving, sharing, gratitude and humility. Without which, well, what’s the point?  Self-indulgence only gets you so far.  It gets old fast.  At least, one can hope it will.

 

Anyway, we run a guest ranch. Six rental cabins. All sitting shut down, unused, gathering dust and cob webs and muddy prints and dirt from who-knows-where but there it is, for the past six months.  Each one to be transformed into spic and span, and warm and welcoming with the touch of my magic broom.

 

See?  Plenty of practice in the spring cleaning department.

 

So here I am, with a bucket and mop and wet rag, and I get to thinking…

 

~

 

About enlightenment.

 

What does cleaning have to do with enlightenment?

 

A lot!

 

First, let’s considered this. What is enlightenment?  For definition, look around at those you might consider enlightened.  Are they in one place and remaining there stagnant?  Or are they involved in a process?  I think we often look at (are told) enlightenment is one single state rather than a way of being and an ongoing journey, an evolutionary existence. Like the seasons, a continuum of birth, growth, death, transformation, rebirth.

 

We look to authorities for the answers, when they are within us and around us all along.  Learn to listen. Quietly. To the sound of rain on soft spring soil and the rustle of newly emerging leaves.

 

What do you believe?  Not what you were told, given or born into, but deep inside yourself if you dare to take the time to look.  Tell me about those truths.

 

I see enlightenment not as some final product and divine state, but as the simple process of conscious being… which begins with letting go, lightening up.

 

So, lighten up!

 

No, it doesn’t end there. It doesn’t end. But that’s where it starts. So let’s start.

 

~

 

Enlightenment need not be something exclusive and elusive.  We give it high airs and think it’s out of reach, some unobtainable state reserved for the special few.  The term is often misused or over used, as in, “I am,” “He is,” “She is,” and, “You, sorry, are not…”

 

That’s not true enlightenment.  That’s ego.  Let that one go too.

 

Enlightenment is within us all. It is without judgment. Without expectation, assumptions, demands.  It is without heirs, pretentions and prejudice.  And it is not like a light bulb that once we flick the switch, it’s on for good.  It too needs tending.  It ebbs and flows like waves and wind. We don’t get somewhere and remain there. It is not one place.  It is a never ending process. It is life and beyond life.

 

It’s all of us, all the time. It’s do-able It’s a state we all are in, any time we change and grow and even try to understand.  Any time we make room within us to open up and clearly see and be.  It’s not always big stuff.  Start small. Start with cleaning. Cleansing. Letting go. Opening up.

 

This is just the first step. The first season.

 

Cleaning, cleansing, clearing yourself of what you no longer need.  Getting rid of old baggage.

 

Yes, it’s that simple. And that hard.  Because we all know how hard it is sometimes to just let go.  We’re quick to cling, to hold on tight, and define ourselves by things we’ve had or happened in the past.  We’re slow to see how bound we are until we begin counting and releasing our attachments.

 

So, we start by letting go, lightening up. Get rid of that stuff.  Shed.

 

Enlighten!

 

~

 

The path to enlightenment is different for us all.  I live in and with nature. So for me, it’s easier to see life as a natural process. Here’s how I see it work around me, and thus within me:

 

  1. Spring:  Clean up.  Let go. Lighten up. Enlighten.

 

Spring cleaning of the body, mind and soul… and cabins and land.

Take care of them all.

Everything matters; nothing matters.

Consolidate.  Prioritize. Pare down to the basics. Get rid of the baggage.

Clear yourself of judgments, expectations, assumptions, demands, criticism.

Just be.

Be curious about the beautiful world around you.

Be a part of it, not separate and detached.

Fully connect.

Get to know yourself. Unadorned with ones past, possession or pretenses.

Let go of the ego, self definition and social status.

What are you left with?

Fresh soil on a raw spring day.

 

  1. Summer:   Work. Give.

 

This is the season of plenty.

Expansion.

Of growth and abundance and long days and clear connection with heaven and earth through sun and rain and rich soil and the brilliant colors of wildflowers and soft embrace of the wind.

Now it’s time to replenish, fill your self with positive stuff.

Nourish and nurture.  Our body, mind, soul. Those around us, the world we live in.

What matters most?

Whatever works for you, but not just for you:

Pray, meditate, practice, tend to your body, the Earth, give, do and care for others?

We live in the days of choice.

Consider widely.

Choose wisely.

 

  1. Autumn:  Remain. Complete.

 

Autumn.  Settling in, stocking the pantry, storing up for the long winter ahead.

This is the time of completion:  fruit ripens, seeds form, leaves are released and branches laid bare.

This is time of bringing the life blood back to the roots where it will remain for the long cold season ahead.

Here’s the one thing often missing. The key to making the equation work.

It’s called commitment.

Sticking with it.

Completion of a task well done.

Commitment is not a four letter word.  It won’t bite.  Try it.

Commitment is not a popular word these days.  Old fashioned.

As in, “Oh, really, you’re still working there?”  “You’re still doing that?”  “You’re still with him?”

Yes, yes, and yes.

And this what allows us to become really good at something, get stuff done, complete what we start out to accomplish, be true to our word, deepen our relationships, complete one thing so we can move on to  the next, and know for sure we can get more done.
Not to say it’s about accomplishment. That is not the goal.  But accomplishment as part of the natural process.  How can you grow and move beyond without completing and concluding?

Are we as flighty as the wind or as solid as the earth we stand upon?

Are we above this earth or a part of it?

Depending on your beliefs… and respecting others for theirs.
I see the cow elk running through the woods with her calf and the red-tailed hawked soaring above screeching her return to the mountain and the purple heads of the monkshood coyly emerging and hear the song of the Mighty Rio echoing on the cliffs.

This is the world around me.

And I am honored to be of this earth.

My ego does not place me greater than this, but connected to it all.

 

  1. Winter:  Dormancy.

 

Here in the high country in winter, in the vast whiteness that it is,

Just be.

Nothing more.

This is your time of stillness,

Of being,

Until you must, for you will, because life moves, we move.

We are neither static not stagnant.

This is the secret of the seasons we are not told

But we observe

In winter.

The time to settle in and go deep and in our quiet slumber, find our inner truths.

This is when change happens, we become.

We are constantly evolving, growing.  We are not inert beings (read:  stick in the mud?)

Change is a certain part of our human existence.

No, this doesn’t mean bag the commitment and try something new at every whim.

It means complete, release, and evolve.  Flow with the process.

It means to take the time to consider.  Where are you? Where did you come from? Where are you going?  Where are you  here and now?

Understand the seasons and be a part of them.

Let one blossom fade and fall off while a new bud begins to form, and a blossom opens.

Don’t get stuck in the mud, but know where to grow strong roots.

Are we meant to rise above our human existence, or make the most of it?

Transcend from this beautiful world, or be humble and grateful of the world around us, find our place and understand why we are here?

 

~

 

And so the cycles of the seasons continues.

 

Are we ever in just one stage?  Only for brief moments. Like the seasons, we are ever changing.  Because the nature of life is movement and change, and so we flow. This is our evolutionary existence.

 

~

 

Well, back to the beginning.

 

Spring.  Mud.  And cleaning.

Enlightening.

 

So there you have it. Spring cleaning.  It’s not just about dust and cobwebs. It can be a first step to enlightenment.  But instead of cabins, it’s our heart, mind and soul.  Dust of those cob webs.  Get rid of the tracks that came in from who or where we don’t even remember. Clean up the old pile of old news in the corner that’s been there since last year.  Make room for new stuff. Good stuff.  Allow yourself time to breathe, and create a space to expand.

 

Oh, and speaking about those cobwebs…

 

~

 

I leave you with this story.

 

Okay, I know a lot of you don’t like spiders and find them really creepy, but for the sake of this story, try to forget that for just a moment and hear me out.  Think of them as “natural.”  And there I was, out in nature. So, spiders have their place.  Believe me, I’m not big on them in my bedroom either…

 

Out on a walk in the woods yesterday, I came across a spider web tucked gracefully under a tree with speckled light illuminating the fine silks and a small gray spider the color of tree bark poised in the center, resting.  I stopped and stared and considered something beautiful from this simple sight.

 

Think about the correlation. She starts with nothing. Air. Space. And into that, she spins her web,

Perfect, beautiful, intricate, with care, symmetry.

 

How long did it take her to create this? She gives it everything she can to create it.  Now it is.

 

And when her hard work is done, she sits and waits.

 

In due time, into that web that she so carefully formed, comes exactly what she needs.  She doesn’t plan or act or lure or try any fancy tricks.  She just creates, with hard work, commitment and care. And then with patience, she allows and trusts and knows…

 

~

spring 6

~

Shared today on Conscious Life News.

~

Seven Poems in Seven Days.

/ Gin Getz / 5 Comments

Actually there were ten, but some of them aren’t worth sharing.

 

After feeling “too busy” and having “too much” else going on (right, join the crowd – I’ll share more on this next week)… my heart returns to poetry.  Like nature, this is where I find my grounding, my uplifting. The first thing I ever remember writing.  I wonder if it will be the last.

 

The following is the result of a ten-day personal challenge taken on with Carrie of The Shady Tree.

It turned out to be a prolific enlightening to my inner passion.

Perhaps it may just look like lot of words.

With these, I hope you may find something that touches your heart too.

Read a paragraph, a stanza, a poem as you like.

 

Gratitude for a dear friend, fellow poet, artist, and lover of family, nature and life.

Gratitude for words, creativity, and inspiration – all of which abound in this beautiful world.

(Please stop by Carrie’s site over the next few days, too, to see how the same photo can inspire such different words.)

~

Photo by Carrie of The Shady Tree

 

~

You can only get

Here

by wet foot

Cool and soft and

 

squishing deep brown

between bare toes

Over slick rocks

 

The sweet moist scent of earth and

Decay

Last years dreams fermenting in

 

Never drying soil

Like a festering open wound

Where the branches bend low overhead

 

Heavy and wet and untouched

By daylight

which in turn is obscured

 

By an endless

swath of fog

 

Dampened desires

Laying heavy on moist flesh

Suppressed by sunlessness

 

Do you remember what

burning feels like

Warm and gold on

 

Exposed flesh

 

Instead in this succulence

Each drop a tiny window into the soul

An eternal pool

 

That will evaporate

and turn to steam

Should the sun burn

 

through the fog

~

Photo by Gin

 

~

Barren are last year’s

blossoms

now Hard and brittle

Spent and sallow

having been bent over

By the weight of

last season’s snow

Their seeds scattered

in the spring rains

Brown dust

to brown earth

And so it should be

 

I lean over

as not to disturb

That which managed

against the elements

And marvel

at the simplicity

And complete

complexity and pure beauty

Preserved by the wind like

An embalmed queen

 

What inner

secrets do you reveal

Spilling forth promises

of eternity

That few may

bend close to hear

Before the bright easy days

of new growth

Consume us

~

Photo by Carrie of The Shady Tree

 

~

On Wednesday

The midwife soars

Grounded

 

Taking flight

Because she is called

And though it appears

 

She has no control

And just moves

Out of action or reaction

 

of spreading her wings

And rising effortlessly

gracefully naturally into the stirring air

 

This remains

the most self controlled act

she may ever manage

 

Of leaving a ground

And returning

While remaining where she was.

~

Photo by Gin

 

~

Last year’s leaves

Next year’s soil

Compressed under this morning’s snow

 

Elk tracks across pasture

Revealing delicate chartreuse

Of spring grass

 

Seeds

Transforming

A quiet awakening

 

Beneath the consuming

unassuming white shelter

The robin is silent this morning.

 

How can I see something new

In the same old landscape

Like looking into the eyes of a lover

 

You have wrapped your body

around for over a dozen years

And still find beauty and shiver.

 

now in static essence of early morning

Upon brown damp soil

robin sings in the cold grey light.

~

Photo by Gin

 

~

Boots by the door

coated with clay

Brought in from out there,

Damp coats and wool hats

 

hang to dry.

What’s the point

You ask me

And I don’t have

 

a good reply.

We both know

they will only

be wet again.

 

Somehow starting out

dry

seems like

the thing to do.

 

The dog comes in

indifferent to wet fur and

Brown tracks behind him

With no boots to

 

leave by the door.

 

Out there

Where the bark of aspen

is soaked  to green grey.

Silver tips

 

on bare branches where

water pools in

tiny glass beads,

and brown water

 

flowing through

brown soil, saturated.

creeks cutting new paths.

old paths.

 

it will all be washed away

we say

if this keeps up.

Heavy skies

 

in stratum,

the movement of

silky flowing veils.

What secrets do they reveal

 

As an entire mountain

Obscured

And does it matter anyway

That the horizon has changed,

 

Is no longer

Peaks and ridges

But soft simple close

White?

 

The view, the future, awareness

Lost

In the sound on the metal roof

That comes in waves,

Strong and steady like

 

deep breathing

As wet as the ocean

And as far away

Above me

~

Photo by Carrie of The Shady Tree

 

~

In my dreams

I am flying

Downward

 

Into secret places

Of mountain

And mind

 

Of my soul

Where even in winter

It is lush and green

 

Places no one else

can touch

Or see

 

And maybe I won’t share

Not even with you

Unless I feel certain

 

You need to know

I keep them for

Myself

 

I become Crow

Seeing from above

A  mountain in

 

parts of a whole

 

Its steep slopes

And jagged rocks

And soft spring grasses

 

And the course of

the cutting river

From so high

 

As if I were

in the wind

blowing

 

across the open flats

and navigating the

rugged bluffs

 

in and out of

tall timber

until at last I light

 

upon the highest snag

 

above it all

the voyeur of my soul

seeing across the big air

 

and down into that

hidden oasis

no one else is meant to see

 

stealing a glimpse

detached

in this vast entirety

 

absorb my world

open my eyes

and find myself still

 

flying

~

Photo by Gin

 

~

On the surface

She shines

Simple and radiant

Easy going like

the afternoon breeze

On a good spring day

 

Idyllic

Tranquility

Stillness of soul

 

Waiting for

the coming unrest

 

~

How to Be Happy

/ Gin Getz / 2 Comments

This article is shared today on Conscious Life News.  It is something I shared here a while back, and a fun reminder (I, for one, could use!).

Happiness may not be the most essential or fulfilling element to our life, but it’s a great place to begin. Why not choose happiness?  It is a simple start.  And then, we develop and grow from there.

I hope you enjoy!

~

gin and bob having an evening in the backyard

~
The five essential habits of positive people (or how to be happy in five easy steps).  

Here’s a great way to start your week on a positive note:  Be happy!  This article will show you how easy it can be.

For most of us, most of the time, in this beautiful world we live in, happiness is matter of choice.  Our personal choice.  And like most everything we choose to manifest, it takes a little work.  With everything we have ahead of us this week (and in our lifetime) to work on, happiness is a simple, easy start.  Give it a try!

~

Imagine if there were a few secret ingredients to a happy life.  You know, inside information, words of wisdom shared by the happiest people. The tricks of the trade for the happy. What works for those people who smile a lot, seem comfortable with who they are, love their work, like the people around them, are nice to be around and nice to those around them.  And imagine if we could learn from these people. Because who among us does not wish to be happier?

 

Say there are a few specific “rules” we can follow to find ourselves happier, what would they be?  They would have to be inspirational, happy, humorous, fun, not preachy, not perfect, things to try for with room to grow and plenty of forgiveness, because we’re human and we always have to try.

 

It’s all about choice.  We can choose happier habits.  Ultimately, we can choose our thoughts, rather than have our thoughts (and emotions) choose our direction.   Not to negate these things – thoughts and emotions are of great value!  It’s just that most of us need to learn to live with them, keep them in line, keep them in their proper place. (Down, Boy!)

 

We can start by following the example of people we admire. People who are trying, against odds, to make the world a better place and find a better place within themselves.  I’m not talking about the happy go lucky folks for whom life’s been just fine and they get through just fine – but never do anything great. What’s wrong with wanting great?  I want to be all I can.  I want to try it all and experience life to the fullest.  That means ups and downs. Good times and bad times.  Make mistakes.  If we don’t fall on our face, we haven’t tried to run.  Life’s too short to walk through.  So, every once in a while, run!  Flat out. And maybe you’ll fall. Get back up, dust yourself off, and when your wounds have healed (if you really must wait that long) try again.  “Only those who have had, can lose,”  I once was told after a great personal tragedy.  Sure, you can go through life playing it safe.  Make it through to the finish line. Slow, steady.  Nothing fancy, no fan fare, no bells and whistles or even a lot of cheers along the way.  Or you can dance your way through life and sometimes stumble.  If you don’t try to dance, you don’t have to worry about making the wrong moves.  But, man, what you’re missing. Oh come on. Give it a try. Dance!

 

Sure, you can’t be happy all the time. Nice idea, but not possible.  Life isn’t that simple or steady.  But you can be happier more often.  It’s up to you.

 

  1. Start your day on a positive note.  Here’s one we learned from Zig Ziglar.  Before you even get out of bed, clap your hands and say something wonderful about yourself, your world, and the day you’ve got ahead of you.  Then this one from Louise Hay. Tell yourself you love yourself.  Look in a mirror if you have one, and say it out loud.  I don’t have a mirror, need glasses to see my own eyes if I did, and I live in a small one-room cabin.  If I woke up clapping my hands and talking in the mirror, I think my husband and son would really worry.  At the very least, I’d wake them up, and those who know me know this: don’t mess with my mornings. This is my sacred time. Do not disturb. So, I keep it quiet, let them sleep, and try to say these things in my head.
  2. Patience.  Learn to slow down. Let go. Boy, this is a hard one for me.  For so many in society we are both judged, and judge ourselves, on how busy we appear to be, how much we claim to accomplish, and how jam packed we fill our days. Social status and self value are thus based on the number of hours worked (though do we stop and think how much we actually get done during those hours?).  The more we can justify being busy, the better people we think we are.  Or so we are told. Fortunately… things are changing.  That worked great to develop the modern world, create fast food and Wal-marts, capitalism and consumerism. But it didn’t bring us closer to happiness. Now it is time to try a different way. Try meditation, walking, yoga, breathing.  Watch a snowflake fall on your hand and melt.  Sit and wait in the early dark to see the moon clear the horizon (or nearest building).  Listen to the wind or the water or the waves.  Find a tree and hear the leaves rustle.  “Learn to let go. That is the key to happiness.”  –  Jack Kornfield, Buddha’s Little Instruction Book.
  3. Life’s short – eat dessert first.  Why not? Instead of dwelling on all these excuse for why not, think of all the reason why instead. Chances are, you’ll be enticed!  Look at all these wonderful things you can do, right now! Next thing you know, you might give it a go. Learn to do something new every day.  Never say never.  Don’t let yourself (or someone you love) say “I can’t.”  Go ahead, give it a try.  Now. What are you waiting for?  Don’t bother telling me.  I don’t want to hear.  I want to hear what you want to do, and what you’re doing to get there.  Even better, I want you to show me.  Do it.  Come on, dream! And dare to do something to make your dream real!
  4. Give. Practice – and expand on – compassion.  Do random acts of kindness. Do something for someone without strings attached every single day.  It doesn’t have to cost money.  It doesn’t have to take much time.  Just share the gifts you already have. You have a lot.  As a writer, I like to share my words.  A cook shares food, a photographer images, a mother comfort – these are the gifts we share, not just to make a living or get the job done or for self importance, acceptance, acknowledgement or reward.  Simply to give what we can. Share your gifts. What gifts can you share?  We all have something special. Creativity, prayer, song.  Think beyond the box.  Or look deep inside. There’s lots there.  Open it up and share it.  I bet there’s plenty to go around.
  5. Have fun, smile, dance.  This is as simple as it gets, and still one the hardest to do. Lighten up and laugh.  I don’t have TV but last month I finally saw the Ellen show while staying at my sister’s house.  Apparently she dances every day.   Right on.  Then there is a dear friend of mine, Ginny, who at first may appear to be “stuck” in a wheel chair.  But take a closer look.  See those arms flying and shoulders swaying and big broad smile that you can’t resist? There she is, even in her wheelchair.  Dancing.  If she can, I can too.  Do it.  Dance.  It feels really good.  And if you dance like no one’s looking, you can’t help but find yourself be smiling like you mean it.  And yes, chances are, you’ll feel happy.

 

Standing Still Beneath Blowing Branches (Lessons Learned from Trees)

/ Gin Getz / 8 Comments

Standing still beneath blowing branches.

Lessons learned from trees.

~

old leaf in new snow

~

These are changing times.

Turmoil around, within.  I stand beneath budding branches, the promise of the continual struggle of life, and suddenly it all makes sense, or maybe nothing matters, and everything finds its place.  Can I let myself cry, selfishly, foolishly, like an innocent child so wanting comfort in hard times yet not knowing how to ask?

Late spring in the high mountains. I write from home on the edge of the Weminuche Wilderness, high and away in the heart of the Headwaters of the Rio Grande in Colorado’s San Juan Mountains. I am flanked by a hundred thousand acres of charred woods and a few hundred thousand acres more of dead standing beetle kill and Aspen fading and falling randomly. A forest full of kindling waiting to ignite. Finding new growth, green needles, sweet sap, life existing, tenaciously holding or ferociously fighting to survive.  Life is precious.

In all their simplicity.  Trees.

Go through it.  Let it out.  Tears fall like raindrops. Nourishment to parched lands and thirsty roots.    No one to hear them fall but the trees. Allow it. Breathe in, breathe out, standing beside a tree.

These are the wise ones. They carry not a passing fancy but wisdom of the ages.  Powerful, deep and rich. They make no loud claims, but hold their ground, tangled in their roots.  Powerless to the pretenses of our demands, greed and ignorance. Eternal, I used to think.

Here they have lost ground. We have been hit hard by the changes.  A sign of things to come, a premonition, or is this just a warning to heed?  Are we too late, and does it matter anyway?

Here our children’s children will never know the old growth through which I used to wander.

Even in their ethereal presence, this graveyard of barren branches, I feel them breathe.  I hear them sigh. Down deep if no where else than in their roots, the soil, the earth. That’s where life remains. And life will come again.

Standing on fallen needles and listening to the Wisdom of the trees.

Breathing in, breathing out, seeking the scent of fresh sap and plump needles. I have almost forgotten.

These are the lessons they teach.

Stand with me now, still and silent beneath bare branches of a seemingly lifeless tree.  Close your eyes.  In the wild spring wind, feel the remaining presence of these great beings.  Listen to their wisdom.

This is what we hear:

~

aspen in snow

~

The earth matters. Give more than you take.

You can’t control the seasons. Learn to let go.

You can’t rush the seasons.  Practice patience.

You can’t change the weather.  Stand tall in the rain and dance in the wind.

Storms come, storms go, the sun will shine again.

Be still and listen.

Be wordless.  (So hard for a writer to do.)  That’s where our truths are found.  (Write about them later.)

Everything changes.

Seasons come and seasons go.

Leaves fall and blossoms return time and time again.

Life stems where you least expect it.

Last year’s leaves are next year’s fertile soil.

Be willing to shed and grow again.

Be grounded. Grow your roots deep and strong.

We share the same soil. Our roots are connected. We are one.

Stand tall and strong, not hard and rigid.

Be flexible in adverse conditions.

Learn to bend in the wind.

Adapt.

Seeds blow in the wind – new life starts where you least expect.

Be willing to break new ground.

Don’t expect ideal conditions.

Grow where they least expect it.

Know you are never alone. Others will grow beside you, and together, you can create a forest.

Look around at others growing above and below you. Respect differences.   We need each other.

Provide shelter to those who need it.

Nurture indiscriminately.  Practice non-judgment.

Give what you can, and then give more.

Don’t take it personally, and you can’t change others.  All you can do is grow.

Allow the world to come and go around you.

Learn to let go.

Nothing lasts forever.

~

looking down to reservoir

~

 

 

 

From the Heart.

/ Gin Getz / 5 Comments

~

This is the view from safe little world.

One view from my safe little world.

~

With our big, open, considerate, compassionate minds.

From our evolved, elite, advanced, educated, privileged and fortunate state of being.

Humbly, we consider the disaster in Nepal.

We consider lives.  Real lives.  Those that were harder to begin with than our hardest day.

These lives.  Lost.

Sorrow for the survivors. Chaos and comfort for the remainders, the rescuers, the wounded, the grieving.

We consider what we can do. How can we make a difference?

Can we make a difference?

How will we know unless we try?

Try.

Try is our mantra. To learn by, to grow by, to make an effort, to possibly make a difference.

Do something.

Nothing is not the answer.

This much we know.  If nothing more.

We send prayers.

That is a start.

That is something.

It matters.

Taking the time to pray, to meditate, to think.

No, we’re not too busy.  Though the busier we claim to be, the easier it is to forget.

We want to forget. What else can we do? We can’t really do more, can we?

We want to do more but our hands are tied.  We’re too busy.  Got too much going on, too many things we need to do, bills to pay, pressures and responsibilities and meetings to attend, work and people and important things, deadlines and appointments and a shopping list this long, and a text just came in and we need to keep up with the latest greatest social media because somehow we know that mattes dearly, and …we’re already running late, better go now…

Wait.

Just for a minute.

Put down the cup of Fair Trade coffee and turn away from the Very Important Message flashing on the screen and ignore the incoming text for just one second…

The world will go on without us.

Really.

Instead, for that second, think about this.

There’s a whole other world out there.

It’s not just “the other half.” It’s more than half. It’s most.

We say we want to help.

Do something important.

Something that matters.

For the bigger picture, not just for us.

Do we?

Really?

So where do we begin?

There are so many choices, too many, overwhelming.

We spend our time discussing, researching, contemplating which to take, what to do, and then realize we’ve used up all our allotted time and move on instead.

Things to do.

Being busy used to impress.  It doesn’t any more.

We see how busy we are but what are we really accomplishing?

We see how important we claim to be, to act, to fill our day but what is our true meaning?

What is the meaning of our life, we ask ourselves in between the busy moments if we let ourselves go there?

Or are we too busy to consider that most basic of questions?

Is our day instead filled still just trying to survive?

And that’s okay too if that were real.

But don’t we see how far beyond…

Survival…

We have become.

We have so much, too much.

This is not survival.

We don’t know what it means to be hungry.

We have not sold ourselves, our daughters, our bodies, their bodies.

We have not lost our sons, our husbands, our homes, our fortunes if nothing more than a single family heirloom that is all that remained and now no longer does.

Our city is not flattened and we’ve not been dodging bullets and disease and poverty and famine.

We have water, for God’s sake, and forget how lucky even that is.

Some days we’re too busy thinking from the mind.

We forget to think from the heart.

We forget the big picture.

In which we are just a very small pin prick.

Look.

We are all shaken today, here in our comfortable world in the land of plenty,

and if we are not, we need to be.

Held by the shoulder and given a good shake.

How does it feel?

May we never know how bad it feels.

The least we can do is try.

Understanding.

Compassion.

What does it feel like?

People have died.

Innocent poor people in a developing nation because that’s how it is 90% of the time with natural disasters.  Why is that?

We want to know why and we don’t know. We don’t understand.  We pull our hair, clean and colored and styled, in frustration. This does not help, does it?

We want answers.

Somehow we think that will help.

We look in the press, on the internet.

Yesterday the press was more interested in the few privileged killed on Mount Everest than the over three thousand human beings who lived and struggled even before this disaster that took their lives.

One life is no more or less valuable than another.

We must never forget this.

We mourn for our losses, their losses, life and death and our tied hands and full bellies and wallets.

Our eyes swell and our hearts ache and we feel a sadness so far from our safe little elite existence.

We make a hundred buck donation and hit send and never see it again and hope it does some good.  We’re sure it does. But we want to do more.  We know we have so much, more to give, more is needed.

Look at the bigger picture.

We say this often. We have so much. Too much.

Compassion?

Maybe not enough.

But we keep thinking there has to be more.

We don’t know what.

Nothing is not the answer.

Something.

Do something.

So, get back to work.

Where were we?

Yes, we’ve got things to do today.

We know how busy we are.  We’ve heard. We’ve all told each other plenty.  It must be true, with our cell phone in one hand and laptop in the other and five second attention span because there’s so much we need to do.

We’re a mover and a shaker.  Each one of us.

Good.

So let’s move and shake and do something that matters.

Now is the time.

What are we waiting for?

 

How to Begin – An Intimate Look Inside a Beginner’s Mind

/ Gin Getz / 15 Comments

From the Beginning.

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spring road

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This essay launches a new series I’m honored to be sharing with Conscious Life News entitled From the Beginner’s Mind. Though my writing is usually centered around land and life intimately intertwined, this series shares the story of a mid-life awakening.  Mind you, this is no mid-life crisis. Things are going great.  I’m not turning toward a spiritual enlightenment to escape or out of desperation, but because something is still missing.  This is about the exploration of that ‘something.’

This is not a how-to manual for I don’t have the answers.  I am learning just like you.  And though I might like to be, I’m the first to admit I’m no expert.   I cannot tell you how-to for I too am figuring it out. All I can do is share with you my journey, and hope you might be interested, inspired, encouraged, or even amused along the way.

With an open heart and mind, we can learn from every person we meet, every encounter we have, every article or book we read.  With an open heart and mind we can find the answers we are looking for.  That is the beginner’s mind.  Where I find myself.  Where perhaps you are too.

This is a journey.  Let’s enjoy it together.

~

spring thaw

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From the Beginner’s Mind.

Some say they have found enlightenment, and guard their discovery as an exclusive, elusive secret.

Others make no claims, but somehow you feel they are the wiser ones. These are the few who exude the pure essence of the beginner’s mind; that of clarity, equanimity, detachment, and compassion.  There is something in the softness of their gaze when speaking with (not to) you; and a grace and ease in their movements.  They observe their world with curiosity, remain humble to share what they have learned, and generously offer encouragement. They give you hope for what you can learn, what you can be, and the point and purpose of enlightenment as well as living – if you need those things (I do).

And then there are those who are happy where they’re at, found what they need, or aren’t interested in seeing beyond.

I’m none of those.  You too?

Then this too might be you:  One of those still looking, seeking, questioning.  We don’t accept a truth unless we can prove it, and yes, sometimes that just means “feeling” the right answer.  But, we haven’t always had the time.  Basic survival (raising a family, holding down a job and getting food on the table) came first.  We wanted more (energy and time included), knew there was more, and felt an emptiness for that something more.  But finding time for teachers, lessons, practice and quiet meditation … well, those things seem out of reach, for the elite without the struggles and responsibilities we claimed, and thus not easily available for us everyday folks with basic needs.

That sure is me.   We all have our thing, our distractions, temptations, obstacles to overcome. Or not.  It’s all a matter of choice.  I am choosing to take the time now.

Sound familiar?

So now I’m finding myself here. At the beginning.  A true beginner’s mind.

It’s not out of wisdom, comprehension and compassion that I call mine a beginner’s mind.  It’s simply the cold, hard, fact.  No pretentions.  No claims of clarity and openness, self knowledge, deep understanding, expertise and valuable insights.  Just a beginner’s mind. The real deal.

This is a simple story of a midlife awakening.  Maybe you’ll relate, maybe you’ll learn from or along with me, maybe you’ll laugh at my discoveries, maybe you’ll roll your eyes and chuckle, “What took you so long?”

Well, things like raising a family, making a marriage, paying the bills, establishing a business, keeping a house and hopefully my sanity in the process, though there was little time for more and some days not enough for all. I called it “basic survival.”  Now my child is raised, my marriage is strong, my calling is fulfilling, my health is awesome, my home is beautiful, and I’m out of debt.  I’m not turning towards spirituality as an escape, but rather for an enhancement.  I still want more. Something is missing.  I’m looking for a life of soul, as well as health, happiness and love.  What does that entail?  Well, this is what I’m trying to figure out!

In retrospect I see I’ve always been somewhere on this winding, twisted route – from practicing yoga on the beaches of Greece, to searching for the elusive magic mushroom on the hills over Santa Fe, to driving cross country time and again in my ’66 split windshield VW microbus with paisley walls and burning incense.  All of it matters, or doesn’t, but is somehow a part of the whole. Then, twenty years of being a mom centered me, kept me in line, turned my focus from me to we.  I can look at that time as a good excuse for not being somewhere else, or accept it as the opportunity to open me to just the right lessons I needed to learn and bring me to where I am today, ideally with experience, understanding, insight and compassion. At least in theory. Because we all know wisdom doesn’t automatically come with age or experience.  It takes reflection, compassion, detachment and true understanding. It also takes time, commitment and energy.  Some of you may get these things worked out early on.  It took me a while.  I think I’ve got it together now.  (Is the act of knocking on wood considered too “beginner?”)

In any case, now I allow myself to dive deep.  At times I feel selfish and spoiled – guilty in a way – am I wrong to take time for this stuff?  Aren’t there “better” things I could be working on?  More important?  More productive?  Couldn’t I keep busier?  Make more money?  Take on more responsibility? Be more impressive, aggressive, and accomplished?

I don’t know.

I know I’m supposed to practice non judgment. Starting with myself.  After a half a lifetime seemly tainted by assumptions, stereotypes, prejudices, jumping to conclusions, taking it too personally, caring what others think, trying to please, trying to impress, do the right thing, belong, be accepted,  be responsible, be loved… learning how to just be is a lot more work than I thought it would be.

~

So that’s where I’m at now.  At the beginning.

You probably know this one. Suzuki wrote:  “In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities, in the expert’s mind there are few.”  Of course he’s referring to the beginner’s mind, not just the beginner, but he encourages us to consider this: the two are not so dissimilar. At least, it gives me hope to think so.

As you too may have found, for those really beginning, there are a zillion choices. Too many.  It’s overwhelming.  How do you know which is right for you? There are so many paths and practices, each acclaimed to be the best. So many choices; all leading to the same place, more or less. It’s like going into a cereal isle and trying to pick one.  Or two.  Or three.  So you take one box, taste, and maybe next time you’ll try something else.  Keep trying until you find your favorite. What works best for you?  What feels right?  What’s your path?  What’s right for you may not be right for me.

Sometimes, too, you just have to trust.  The right opportunities present themselves at the right time.  Or not, and then you get the lessons of patience and perseverance.  Are you going to stick with it or not?  So you learn to balance commitment with choice.  Without commitment, I think I’d just keep trying it all, be one more spiritual junkie on the path to the next latest greatest promise to quick and easy enlightenment, never getting good at anything, and probably never getting to where I want to go, which may be the case no matter how focused I try to remain, for maybe where I want to go isn’t where I need to be.

I am grateful it’s never too late to learn.

And I am grateful for those willing to teach.  Don’t you know what your wisdom and experience mean to those seeking?  The sharing of gems.  Wealth and shining beauty in the form of a few words or lessons.  This is amazing stuff. Stuff we have to remember to pass on some day, some how. The time will come.  Sure, some will tell you “I’m enlightened; you are not,” and won’t have time (or the mind/heart set) to share how they got to where you are not.  There’s plenty of that around.   There’s also plenty of humility and compassion.  Big, wide, generous hearts.  Learn from them in whatever way you can.  It never hurts to ask, reach out, try.  Perhaps with simple observation, perhaps with direct lessons.  Learn from those that practice what they preach, and exude the essence you are working toward.  No, you’ll never be someone else.  We’re all beautiful and unique in our own way, with our own style and gifts, calling and path.  But choose your teachers wisely, I tell myself.  On the other hand, with an open mind and heart, I can learn from anyone.

I am humbled by knowing how little I know, how much I can learn.

~

What have I learned so far?  Well, I confess often I haven’t learned by proficiency, but out of frustration.

These are the hard ones for me, the ones I have to work on every day, and still don’t have mastered.  And because they are so hard, and require so much attention and effort, I’m pretty sure these are the biggies:

Patience.  I still want it all now.  The answers, enlightenment, that feeling of bliss or “getting it” I get for fleeting moments during meditation.  I also know it’s not supposed to work that way.  If it were easy… we’d all be there already and miss the journey.  It requires practice.  Meditation.  Sitting.  Focus.  No focus. Learning to be still. Wait.  Receive.  All in due time.  “Don’t work too hard, just let it come,” one teacher tells me.  Easier said than done.  How to erase 40-something years of thinking I need to work my butt off to get what I want.  Funny because even when I did work my butt off, I didn’t always get what I wanted.  Or maybe it was that what I thought I wanted wasn’t that which I needed, so obtaining it was unfulfilling… grab it and go, onto the next.

Gratitude. For those who have shared, are willing to share, with such humility and grace. Gratitude… for those who treat me gently (or harsh when I need that, and I do sometimes) and try to teach me what they have learned without making me feel like a fool (or at least, not trying to… because sometimes I do anyway).  Have you noticed that those who know the most say they know the least?  Give them time (back to that patience thing…) and they’ll reveal what you need to know, when you need to know it… if you stick with it, and ask.  I treasure the time, care, insight, wisdom, and the gems they have shared with me.  Gratitude… for all those opening the doors, calling me over, laughing at my enthusiasm as I come eagerly running like a happy puppy.

Forgiveness.  This may sound selfish, but I’m trying to start with myself on this one.  I’m not talking therapy here, just understanding, acceptance, and love.  At least that’s what I’ve read.  The theory being it’s hard to move forward without a good grasp of the past.  And once you start taking a quick look, you start seeing how much you hold against yourself. Geez. Let it go!  Right.  Easier said than done, but I’m trying.  And at the same time, working on forgiving others, because really, what’s the point?  Anger and resentment eat away at me only; the other person has no idea I’ve got a vex on them.  So the point is…?  Get over it.  Move onto better things. At least, that’s what this beginner is trying to do.

Understanding.  Clarity or seeing clearly. When I was little with my big strong mind (or so I swore it to be back then) my mother would say to me, “We agree to disagree.”  I didn’t agree at all.  I knew that was a way of saying, “I won’t even bother trying to understand.” I wanted to be understood.  Now  I want to understand. “Everything on the planet,” another teacher tells me. No, you don’t have to agree. But try to truly understand.  It feels amazing, expansive, inclusive just to give it a try…

Non judgment.  Why did it take me so long to figure this out? (Though is “Why?” a question laced with judgment or simply curiosity?)  So yeah, I got a long ways to go on this one.  And once again, who do we judge most but ourselves?  How do we learn to let go of self expectations and demands  and fears ?  I wish I knew.  I’m starting by (trying…) switching my focus to calm, clear, centered… and sometimes nothing at all, just breathing in and breathing out.  It’s a start. Tell you what:  seems like it’s easier to find fault than accept praise.  Who said it was meant to be easy?

Service.  I keep finding myself going back to the old Jackie Robinson quote:  “A life is not important except for the impact it has on other lives.”  I don’t think we’re ever fully fulfilled unless we see that what we’re doing is not just for ourselves.  The bigger picture matters.  Sure, we all want to be included and accepted, but it’s more than that.  We need a point and purpose, and I think that point and purpose has to involve the well being of others to be sincerely satisfying.  So, is service a selfish act?  I don’t know – maybe we can twist it around to be – but I think the big thing is this:  we need to do stuff for others.  If it doesn’t feel like enough, maybe it’s not. Do more.  If I’m lucky, I’m only half way through life.  I spent what felt like the first half taking care of me and my family.  Now it is my time to start reaching beyond.

Love.  Surely this is the most important.  It is so simple, really, and yet so crazy complex.  In all its wild ways.  Sexual, spiritual, motherly, earthy, passionate, compassionate love.  Love… for the understanding I am slowing seeing, feeling, breathing in, becoming. Very slowly.  Love… for my husband, who not only lets me, but actually joins me.  Love… for the earth I tread softly on and spring winds and bird songs and the howling coyote at first light.  Love… for the words I weave into poetry, if no where else then in my mind, for it makes me smile and love the world around me I write about that much more.  And here’s something cool I’m finding.  Why not love?  Everyone.  Everything.  I’m sick of anger.  I’m trying to catch myself. When I feel like smacking someone in the face (no, I’ve actually never did this, but between you and me, I confess I have fantasized…), turn my feelings to love.  Plain and simple.  It’s easier than I thought. Try it if you don’t believe me.  Just change your thoughts.  Stop one.  Replace with another. No excuses.  Just do it.   Really. Sincerely.  Tell you what – it feels amazing.  Love.  Because the more you send out, the more is out there, and the more you feel, and that’s just good stuff, no matter how you look at it.

Compassion.  My take on this, coming from my true beginner’s mind, is that compassion sums up all these lessons. Patience, understanding, non judgment, service, love.  And then you have to practice what you preach.  This is the hard part.  Put your lessons to the test, and into action. Not just words, readings, teaching, but actual doings. How I treat myself.  How I treat others.  How I treat the Earth.  And that’s where the hard part comes in. Being the person you want to be.  Now.  But that’s where you really start feeling like you’re getting somewhere.  Start by trying. That’s all it takes to begin.

~

So, here I am.  On the path to awakening.  At least, that’s where I hope this road is going.

Where ever I am, it’s beautiful.  It feels good.  It feels right.  Some days I’m elated and high and it feels so awesome and for fleeting moments I shiver with bliss and feel enwrapped with light and I’m sure I’m doing it right, and even get a glimpse of what “right” might be.  And then the next day I slip back into my selfish, short sighted, wounded child whining.  It doesn’t last long any more.  At least, I try not to let it.  I’m slowly learning to see right through that game.  Finally.  And see into something so much better.

“Try” is my mantra.  Try to get over it. Try to forgive myself when I don’t.  Try to change the bad thoughts to good.  Try to feel love when I’m burning with rage. Try to feel  at ease when I’m convinced I was just slighted, dissed, or rejected (this one happens plenty as a writer).Try to find calm when my mind is moving like a racehorse, busted free from the track , and is heading off, fast, in a direction to god knows where… Come back to center, breath, smile, and try again…

I’ve got a long ways to go. I’m starting to understand if done correctly, I’ll be doing this forever.  Learning, growing, expanding, adjusting, refining.  I’m also starting to understand this:  once you get on the path, sure you’ll get lost and lose the way from time to time, but I don’t think the journey ends.  Something inside keeps us going, brings us back to center, and leads us onward.  A deep yearning for the truth, peace, presence and understanding.  Have you found this to be so?

Have you noticed this one too?  Once you begin to open your eyes, suddenly you start seeing so much.  It’s beautiful.  It’s almost blinding, almost overwhelming, but you can’t turn your head away…

Word of warning – when you begin to open, with gratitude, humility and clarity, the Universe rejoices.  It celebrates joyously by throwing doors open for you.  You might have to run to keep up and get through them all. You can do it!

I’m opening them all for now, jumping in and finding my way around. I’m trusting, and believing and following, rather than controlling, and this is new for me.  I’m rejoicing too – I know I’ll get exhausted, and settle in soon enough and find my new expanding space. But for now, I’m having fun learning.  Everything is new today.

No doubt, many of you are further along on the path than me.  Please be patient with us late bloomers or slow movers.  No need to wait on us, but be gentle when you see us swerving along the rocky road.  Be gracious, knowing one more human being is beginning the unfurling.

I’m just happy I’m here now.

And though I don’t get all the right answers or clearly see the way yet, I’m sure enjoying the journey.

~

outside of creede

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Stirring.

/ Gin Getz / 11 Comments

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spring on the mountain

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There is an intense clarity found in springtime in the high mountains.  It is not beautiful, but real and raw.  It hides nothing. Like a truth you cannot escape.  An inner stirring as the outer winds churn cold and biting from over the Divide.

It is not a stunning time, but one of stark realities. You are left to face yourself, your world, in all its plainness. Earthen tones and unadorned branches that may snap in the strong gusts if not full and plump with awakening life and the memory of remaining flexible.  A time to weed out the weak, prepare for the upcoming unfurling.  Last year’s brown grass strewn with grey branches like abandoned dreams. I pick them up as I walk by and stack them in burn piles to clean up when the wind dies down and we’re ready for a quiet evening.

~

looking down lost

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There is no draw here for tourists now.  Instead this is the time to drag the pasture and fix fences, repair gates and clean up back roads. It is a time for work, not for fun and pretty and light and laughter and languid appreciation of abundant natural beauty though there is always that too no matter.  It is quiet at first tired breath, then exhilarating in its wild rapture with roaring river and winds that blend into their own inseparable harmony.

It is not a time to blatantly behold, but rather discretely observe, for what you are witness to now is her nakedness. Soon she shall dress, slowly, in preparation for what will be.

Some days you’re fooled into believing it’s all over or just begun and then you wake to temperatures in the teens and dig into frozen ground and remember where you are in spite of longing for longer days, warmer rays and shorter shadows. Shade cast from the remaining white high hills obscures hopes of lush and green and leaves and blossoms for some time to come.

~

spike and lichen on cedar post

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It’s quieter around here without the goose.  I confess I snuck down to Ute Creek to check on him.  Only once.  There was a big flock newly arrived of geese, ducks and smaller birds enjoying a warm brown open pool in the otherwise still ice covered expanse. And about a hundred yards away on a stretch of frozen mud, was one solitary goose looking back towards the others.  What do you think? Yeah, that’s what I thought too.

In the meanwhile, there’s this independent hen… Ever hear of such a thing?  In all my years of raising chickens, I never had.   But sure enough.  We got one here now. One of our free range hens decided she is not in need of flock nor rooster (though he’s quite in need of her and tries often to herd her home). Instead she prefers our porch, picnic table, the wood pile outside our front door. Go figure what’s worth scratching for in there.  She’s outside our cabin at any given time of day.  Though I’ve never been liberal in giving credit to a chicken’s sensitivities and insight, it’s as if she knows she’s in a bird friendly zone (it is indeed with my very active bird feeder) and a family in need of a feathered friend.

~

looking up pole

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And then.

Yesterday we pass by the lake of open water miles down river below our ranch. Bob drives slowly as I have my head out the window and that wind is cold.  I’m looking.  Carefully.

No, that’s not him, I say and he drives on.

How do you know, he asks me.  I just know.

Stop.  Here.  No, not that one… but that one there could be… slow down… pull over!

Rikki, I call.

The one with the big head and the low honk flies off to an island a short ways away and fights with another one before landing.  Rikki never behaved like that, I note to self, and then I realize this:  He is a she!

And there she is, with another female.  Swimming this way from the far bank.

Listen, I tell Bob. I can hear her before I see her.  I know her voice.  My Rikki!

She is calling to me.  We holler, back and forth across the cold grey water…

She remains in the water, closer but never too close, talking together all the time, back and forth, as the dog runs along the bank and I wonder which of us Rikki misses more, but I sense that she won’t come clear to us, and she shouldn’t, and she doesn’t.  And although I’d love to sit next to her and stare into her warm brown eyes and just chatter as the two of us have done so many times before, her distance feels right.  I am happy for her. She has found her place. And it is beautiful.

I am humbled to realize how wild the wilds shall always be, and how domesticated I remain.

I stand to leave in the brown grass along the bank and kick someone’s spent shotgun shells littered along the spring soil.

~

rikki at rc res

~