The start of a new year presents an opportunity to turn our attention to the energetic remnants lingering from the past. While many ceremonies are good for this (a ceremony of writing down on paper the things you are releasing and putting them in the fire, for instance), what we often fail to consider is that each home or property has an energetic being that is the record-keeper of the land. And THEY need to be cleared of their past vibrational imprints as well!
While the devic realms of nature are neutral, accepting imprints and "programs" just like your computer, they also continue to store those programs until cleared or freed from that commitment. It is like clearing the hard drive of your computer. If someone owned the computer before you, this is one of the first things you would do...
Here's how she suggests you release the "deva" of your home from negativity, sadness or other past programs (yours or someone else's).
1. Go into an inner space in which you feel your connection with the Divine within.
2. Turn your attention to the Angel of the Property (the deva, or record-keeper for the land).
3. It doesn’t matter if you see the deva, or feel it, this process will work regardless. Now state to the deva: “I hereby release you from any previous vows, commitments, thought-forms or programs from the past which no longer serve the loving Will of the Mother or Divine Father at this time. We ask for the assistance of the Angelic realms to clear the land of any past programs.”
4. If you like, you can also...request the assistance of the violet flame to help clear these old programs. Do this by imagining that a flame of violet light is sweeping throughout the entire property and cleansing and clearing it from programs that are no longer useful.
5. Offer a prayer of thanks for it having been done.
6. Now close your session...by ringing a bell, burning some sage, or incense, or doing a bow, whatever has meaning for you. It helps imprint the intent on the subconscious mind if we do something in the physical.
You could adapt this ritual to fit your own faith.
posted by Chattering Mind @ 11:37 AM | Permalink |
Yes, I'm in accord with the reader who writes this in response to my advice, "Surround your children with beautiful things."
Children "should get nice things, but the beautiful things around them should be their family, friends, and activities involving those people," she says. "Right now insure they are surrounded with beautiful memories and a beautiful soul, a heart full of love, but most important of all is that they have self-worth and a self-esteem to be reckoned with. Because if those are the beautiful things you surround them with, you will never need to be afraid to dust their room!"
I don't mean to sound gloomy, but these days after Christmas often make me think of death. They always have.
But I've been more aware of life's fleeting, precious character in recent years. My mother died three years ago on January 3rd, and she labored under hospice care during this normally festive week.
So now, for me, the twelve days of Christmas have an exquisitely melancholy luster. Initially, this was upsetting, but now I see the silver lining. In the sadness, there is something shining.
My mother had experienced a really bad stroke. She was 77. There was no coming back. And she'd already almost died once in the hosptial. I am grateful that, thanks to hospice care, Mom got to die quietly in her own bed.
But here's what was wonderful about the night of her passing: When the hospice people dressed her body for the coroner, they placed an afghan blanket on her. It was just an old throw Mom kept around, but woven into this blanket were the words of the 23rd Psalm.
When the coroner came in at around eight that evening, he took Mom's body and left the blanket folded at the bottom of the bed. Four hours later, I went to sleep in a twin bed in the same room where my mother had died. I lay down and had a good cry.
But when I casually placed that 23rd Psalm blanket over me, to my surprise the blanket began to pop and radiate a very specific energy. Since I had not been looking for a "big experience," I actually pulled the blanket down and experimented with feeling where the sparkling, popping energy was. It was definitely IN the blanket--and it seemed to snap in little sparkles on the surface of my skin.
I have some training in Reiki--a method of divine healing through the hands. And since that training, I have been more aware of the existence of this sort of energy. But this popping sensation, I think, would have been noticed by anyone. It was very obvious. What was it? Pure life force, I guess. I don't think it was motherly love. It didn't seem like something being given specifically to me. It had an odd neutrality to it. It wasn't sentimental. But it was real. That's what I'm telling you.
The Reverend Laurie Sue Brockway says that "when the doors of heaven open and your loved one passes through, the energies of heaven come and kiss those left behind when they are quiet enough to be open to that kind of experience."
Post your own thoughts on this subject. I'd love to hear from you. I'll have more ideas on how the old yields to the new as we direct our attention to 2006.
Shake hands, before you die. Old year, we'll dearly rue for you: What is it we can do for you? Speak out before you die.
His face is growing sharp and thin. Alack! our friend is gone, Close up his eyes: tie up his chin: Step from the corpse, and let him in That standeth there alone,
And waiteth at the door. There's a new foot on the floor, my friend, And a new face at the door, my friend, A new face at the door.
If you're feeling vulnerable or blue for any reason, do not miss Elizabeth Lesser's thoughtful article about coping with the intensity, competitiveness, and grief of the year-end season. Lesser is author of "Broken Open" and one of the founders of the influential New Age conference center The Omega Institute. Her sweetness as a person and the wisdom she's gleaned from many spiritual teachers shows in this piece. She writes:
"I once saw a bumper sticker that read, 'Normal is someone you don't know very well.' This is always a good thing to keep in mind, especially now, when we assume that the normal people are all having happier, healthier, and more harmonious holidays than we are. We imagine their mailboxes stuffed with Christmas cards and party invitations, their homes decorated in Martha Stewart splendor, their intact and idyllic families primed for weeks of good cheer.
"...most of us hold ourselves up to an unattainable standard of human perfection. The 12th-century Sufi poet Rumi called this phenomenon the 'Open Secret.' He said each one of us is trying to hide the same secret from each other—not some racy or evil secret, but the mere fact of our flawed humanness. We expend so much energy trying to conceal our ordinary bewilderment at being human, or our loneliness in the crowd, or that nagging sense that everyone else has it more together than we do, that we miss out on the chance to really connect, which is what we ultimately long for. Especially during the holidays. Even those people who may seem to be living out our idealized vision of the season have an Open Secret.
The article has as a sidebar ten tips for enduring the holiday season. Create your own traditions. Forgive. Enjoy all you can, even when holiday life feels hard.
We Chatterings will be eating pheasant for Christmas dinner. The idea occurred to me as I stood in our local butcher's shop two weeks ago and noticed his "Pheasant and Squab by Special Order" sign.
So I bit. But first I asked, "Is the pheasant farmed and environmentally correct?" And the butcher responded, "Well, it's a pretty bird. That's the only thing sad about it."
I hope I'm not stepping on any turkey-loving toes, but I'm going ahead with my plan. But wait--if you think our family life sounds ideal, and a pheasant dinner at my house is something you'd like to try, come over and have a look at our crazy, cluttered, unmanageable kitchen. Never has so little a room needed more Feng Shui.
Here's a guided meditation by Paramahansa Yogananda. Perhaps, if you are celebrating Christmas this year in a non-traditional way, you will find this inspiring.
Meditation for Christmas Eve
Lift your eyes and concentrate within. Behold the astral star of divine wisdom and let the wise thought in you follow that telescopic star to behold the Christ everywhere.
In that land of everlasting Christmas, of festive, omnipresent Christ Consciousness, you will find Jesus, Krishna, the saints of all religions, the great guru-preceptors waiting to give you a divine floral reception and everlasting happiness.
Prepare for the coming of baby Christ by decorating an inner Christmas Tree. Around that sacred tree lay gifts of calmness, forgiveness, nobility, service, kindness, spiritual understanding, and devotion, each one wrapped in a golden covering of goodwill and bound with a silver cord of your pure sincerity.
May the Lord, on the Christmas morn of your spiritual awakening, unwrap the gorgeous presents of your heart offerings sealed with tears of your joy and bound with cords of your eternal fidelity to Him.
He accepts only the gifts of sacred sound qualities. His acceptance will be His greatest gifts to you; for it means that, in return, the gift He will bestow on you shall be nothing less than Himself. In giving Himself, He shall make your heart big enough to hold Him. Your heart shall throb with Christ in everything.
Enjoy this festivity, the birth of Christ, in your mind and soul and in every living atom. By daily meditation you will prepare the cradle of your consciousness to hold the infinite baby Christ. Every day will become a true Christmas of divine communion.
Beliefnet.com posted astrologer Shelley Ackerman's annual what's-in-store-for-next-year article yesterday. Since the start of George W. Bush's administration, astrologers have been nattering about what's to become of our 43rd president. Many have consistently felt that he would not finish this second term, due to scandal, or something more unfortunate. Here's what Shelley speculates for the White House in 2006:
"President Bush's chart is under enormous stress. With Saturn, Lord of Karma, on his Ascendant, and Uranus opposite his Mars through much of the year, his popularity may decline, and he may have to further explain wiretapping without Congress' approval. The stress is especially high at the end of January, when Saturn is on his ascendant. The new moon chart for Jan. 29, the day before Cheney's 65th birthday, is interesting: it has Pluto on the Midheaven, often symbolic of a change of leadership. Cheney's chart has his progressed moon moving at the same degree as the U.S. chart; in fact, his progressed Midheaven is about to contact Pluto.
"Astrologers are speculating about the extreme nature of that progression: With Saturn opposite his Sun and squaring his Taurus planets, the questions are: Will Cheney's health hold up? Will he have to answer uncomfortable questions about Scooter Libby? May he even 'ascend to the throne?'
"The seasonal charts (horoscopes cast for spring equinox, summer solstice, fall equinox, and next winter solstice) are especially interesting. Three out of four of those charts cast for Washington, D.C., have Saturn in Leo Rising, suggesting a leadership that is under the gun, fiercely struggling to maintain its sovereignty and authority."
I have what may not be an uncommon view of astrology generally--I am skeptical. And yet, whether or not astrology is accurate doesn't trouble me, doesn't keep me from regarding it with respect and great interest. I see it as yet another template, another vocabularly, another way into understanding ourselves and others. I have found astrological descriptions of myself and my life's struggles quite helpful.
I had a long, serious reading and session from an astrologer named Dan Fry in Dallas, Texas twenty-five years ago, and I still go back to the transcript and find wisdom in it. I think he was also psychic. The only time he really missed the mark is when he pressed me to go to law school. I applied, got in, and then never went. I did manage to parlay the whole application process into a good raise from the magazine I worked for back then. But don't you think Chattering Mind would have made a lousy barrister?
Speaking of astrology, it seems apt to mention that many astrologers, astronomers, and Bible scholars do not believe that Jesus was born on December 25th. They think he was born in the spring. Astronomer Michael R. Molnar has written a book called "The Star of Bethlehem:The Legacy of the Magi", in which he proposes that Jesus was actually born in 6 BC, on April 17th!
"Molnar shows how various factors in Greek astrology converge to form a regal chart," says this website devoted to Vedic Astrology. (Vedic Astrologers sometimes spend as much time verifying birth times as they do interpreting data or forecasting trends.)
I find this birth date for Jesus significant (and amusing) in large part because, well, if you must know, I was born on April 17th! And it's been a wonderful day for me in most of the places I've lived. Some irises are coming in, and lily of the valley blossoms are not far from the surface of the moist, spring soil. The sun is beginning to feel warm on your skin. It's a really nice time in Southern Israel too. Here's an Israeli website that reveals temperatures in April ranging from sixty-eight to eighty five degrees down by the Dead Sea.
Thanks to the "tea totalers" who wrote me with healty tea suggestions. One reader recommends a high-antioxidant tea I've never tried called Rooibos (Red Bush) from South Africa, available from the Numi company at Whole Foods. I will look for it. Another reminds us that White Tea has more antioxidants than Green, and can be found decaffeinated from almost any enlightened vendor these days.
Sadly, Mr. Chattering bundled up and left the house this morning in a Beliefnet.com-sponsored carpool. The New York City transit strike is still in full flower, and though I tried to convince him he could get more work done at home, he had an important meeting. I dutifully made him a good breakfast, but he became distracted by his own internal chatter when his ride arrived. So he forgot to eat anything. Now all he's got (for what could be a three-hour ride) is a car mug of coffee. I grieve for him. The kids are sleeping late (thank God, because I've got to blog). It's our aim to do some family yoga. Then read.
But here is my plan for late this afternoon: we're gonna make caramels.
Fact is, I banned candy (and feared other children's birthday parties) for years, believing that the Red Dye #40 (which seemed to be in everything) made my children euphoric, then boring, and finally, impossible to love. Now that they're older, they do have some store-bought candy in their lives. I just couldn't hold the wolves at bay any longer. The kids adore Sour Skittles--the fakiest of fake things--and beg for them, it seems, every time we pass a newsstand. This bugs me, BUT there are odd times—difficult to predict—when I do allow them to pig out and go crazy. Of course, soon, the control will slip completely out of my hands.
I think the lesson today, as we make caramels according to this New York Times recipe, will be that delicious candy can have real things in it—cream, sugar, vanilla extract, and butter—and that the making of it can fascinate any budding scientist as well as be a good form of entertainment. This is indeed something folks did to amuse themselves before cable television stole their souls. I know, because my mom grew up in Texas in the 1930s, and her family made a walnut candy called "Divinity" all the time. There was nothing else to do.
To take our candy making to the level of high concept, I'm going to dig out and play some of the old Christmas radio shows we have here on audio tape. Actually, the set I'm linking you to here looks much better than the one we've got. Both my children are huge fans of lovable "Baby Snooks" (that's actress Fanny Brice). They find the tormenting of her self-absorbed father hilarious. I see that it's a great old show, but that the program's closing spanking of bad-girl Snooks must have been included to be titillating to yesteryear's repressed grownups.
posted by Chattering Mind @ 11:11 AM | Permalink |
Congratulations Kurt Eichenwald, writer of yesterday's front-page New York Times article about how a thirteen-year-old California youth became ensnared in child pornography and then prostitution through his own family's sad disconnectedness and a web cam. This article will no doubt be talked about for weeks.
The article made me feel so sad for children today. And it came on the heels of a conversation I had recently with another hovering, chattering mom, in which I learned that some young girls are now giving oral sex to boys, in open, public performance, at parties and on school buses.
Remember this, and tell your kids: We are, as a people, products of what we see, what we eat, and the friends we surround ourselves with. And we are letting our children see, eat, and do too much that is toxic. This particular subject is high on my list right now because I know that Roger Shattuck, the Proust scholar and a beloved professor I studied with at the University of Virginia, died last week in Lincoln, Vermont. In books like "Forbidden Knowledge," he articulated his lifelong specialty and focus--the discernment of what in life and literature was of quality, and what was garbage. Shattuck felt that the violent, kinky writings of the Marquis de Sade, for instance, should not be included in the literary canon of college students. To me, that's a no-brainer (though I recall reading some Sade in college myself).
Here's a link to a radio interview with Shattuck on just this subject, and another link to Shattuck hashing out literary complexities with a time-pressured David Gergen on PBS's The News Hour. Shattuck was a gorgeous man in every way (it didn't hurt that his speaking voice resembled Gregory Peck's).
In sum: Feed your children well, surround them with beautiful things. And check behind your family computer terminal for hidden web cameras! This kid profiled by the Times fooled his mom for years. I guess she just never dusted back there.
Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. I have rejoiced over the small pleasures that today's New York City transit strike has granted me. Mr. Chattering stayed at home to work at his home computer and I am warmed by his presence. The Chattering boys, now on holiday break, are happy we are all together. And Chester, our dog, just wanders from room to room, longing to play ball or be snuggled. In the meantime, millions of pre-Christmas dollars are being lost, and thousands are struggling to get to their Manhattan offices. The watchful waiting and longing of Advent this year in New York has been intensified by the long period of wondering if a mammoth transit strike will take place. Now it's on. This is it.
It's also the day before Winter Solstice (December 21st), and yesterday, I received an emailed newsletter from Waverly Fitzgerald's School of the Seasons that describes how Waverly has spent her Solstice day for many years: in silence.
She writes:
When I first read that the feast day of Diva Angerona, the Roman goddess of silence, was celebrated on the winter solstice, I decided to spend the daylight hours of the solstice in silence, a custom I have maintained for many years. It requires a bit of advance preparation (warning my friends and family of my intentions, going shopping for any necessities ahead of time) but it has been well worth it. I love the way the silence changes everything. I become more aware of both the endless chatter that goes on in my mind and my inner voice. When I emerge from my day of silence, I feel like I'm emerging from a deep pool.
This week, at the darkest time of the year, look for opportunities to bring silence into your life. Go for a solitary walk, perhaps on the Day of the Winter Solstice. Turn off the other voices that normally fill your space: give up listening to the news, reading on the bus, or tuning in to NPR. Set aside an evening when you will be alone in your home, with no TV on, with no phone, with no book to read. What thoughts and experiences will you gather in silence?
The transit strike won't silence the city that never sleeps. But it will--to say the least--kick us all out of our routines. I feel humbled by its power as I sit here blogging to Chanticleer's "Sound in Spirit" and "Christmas with the Tallis Scholars," both excellent CDs recommended to me by Beliefnet's music-saavy community editor Martha Ainsworth.
"In Rome, in the first four hundred years of what we now call the common era, two major savior-religions vied for supremacy. The first savior, Mithra, the Unconquered Sun, was said to have been born of a mortal virgin on the old Brumalia, December 25th. Legend had his birth witnessed by shepherds and magi, and he performed a bevy of healing miracles, including raising the dead and causing the blind to see. Before dying and returning to heaven on what we call the vernal equinox, Mithra was said to have held a last supper with his twelve disciples who represented the twelve signs of the zodiac. The Roman military establishment hailed Mithraism for its rigid discipline and vivid battle imagery.
The Christian sun god, Jesus, Light of the World, had beliefs and rites so similar to that of Mithraism that St. Augustine declared that the priests of Mithra worshipped the same deity as he. Perhaps it was Chritianity's relative softness, in those early days, towards the feminine, and its roots in Judaism, with its prediction of a messiah, that finally allowed Christ's followers to seize the day. Mithraism thus became merely a tributary to the story that today shapes one of the world's major religions."
To represent a more acceptably Christian view, here's an annotated paper by Ronald H. Nash which says the parallels drawn between Christianity and early Pagan "mystery" religions are greatly exaggerated. It's all fascinating reading.
I had cut back on my black tea consumption because--like many women post-childbirth, pre-menopause--I run slightly anemic, and both tea and coffee are known to inhibit the body's absorption of iron. But now, a Swedish team has suggested that drinking two cups of black or green tea daily may reduce the risk of ovarian cancer by 46 percent. It's all about the antioxidants! The lesson: everything in moderation, but possibly a little more tea.
Mama Donna decided to encourage women to think of themselves as queens upon turning fifty because she was not enamoured with the archetype of the elder woman as a haggard old crone. Who can blame her? I don't especially want to be a crone, even a very wise one. (Though I am also hoping to skip hormone replacement. We'll see how that goes!)
Anyway, Mama Donna orchestrates ritual celebrations for individuals and groups all year, but next week's Winter Solstice (Wednesday, December 21st) is probably her favorite. I spoke to her today about how one might celebrate Winter Solstice alone or in a group. She had many terrific ideas.
First, Winter Solstice is the shortest day of the year, and the longest night. But on December 22, the sun will stay up a minute or so longer each day until we reach Summer Solstice six months from now. So Winter Solstice represents the fact that--although Winter's just beginning--light is indeed returning in small increments, and the darkest times will soon be behind us. Some people think all the religious holidays of light (including Christmas and Hanukkah) are rooted in this ancient awareness of the sun's movements. The earth's earliest peoples watched the sun's comings and goings as if their lives depended upon it. Mama Donna says it was not uncommon for them to stay up all night on Winter Solstice praying for the sun's warming return.
You could do that. You could stay up all night this Tuesday, revelling in inky blackness. However, should you have a 9-to-6 job, there are better ways to support yourself at this time.
On Tuesday night, Mama Donna suggests you:
--Have friends over to eat beans, sprouts, or root vegetables--all foods that do well in the dark and gather strength underground in the winter.
--Invite friends to bring in their own beans and seeds. Ask yourselves: How might I be like this seed and nurture myself this winter, build a stronger root structure, so that I might then develop new projects, talents and resources?
--Spend time in the dark--outside or in. Darkness is something to befriend, not fear. Take a long bath in a completely dark bathroom. Feel how dark darkness gets.
Then on Wednesday morning, welcome in the returning sun!
--Admire the sunrise.
--Serve pert, bright foods like eggs sunny-side up, yellow cornbread, fruits, and fresh juices.
--Play Vivaldi or other composers whose music has a light and joyous quality.
--Wear the color white and items that sparkle.
--Set yourself up to happily endure the coming winter. It won't be long before you notice that the days are getting longer.
Silly me, I always thought singer Cat Stevens (now Yusuf Islam ) had written the melody behind "Morning Has Broken," a hit in 1970. The song is, in fact, an old Gaelic Christmas hymn called "Christ in the Manger." You'll find the song's history piecemeal in posts here at Songfacts.com.
Last night the Chatterings held a family meeting at the dining room table. We took turns holding a "talking stick," which initially was a lit candlestick ringed with tiny Christmas ornaments. Later, when the candlestick proved too distracting and delicate, we switched to holding a long paintbrush.
I am an Aries and always the first to talk, so the opening theme was that my life has become unmanageable. I am blogging all day, not exercising enough, struggling to keep the house in order, cooking without any assistance from the rest of the family, preparing for the upcoming religious festivities, and worried that we haven't finished our homemade teacher gifts.
More aggravating than all that, the Chattering sons have been fighting more. Lately, it has seemed like they couldn't get into the car without rudely punching or stepping on each other, then arguing about who had slugged the other first. The angry climate is taking its toll on me as well. Yesterday, one boy had mislaid his vitamin-C-loaded candies in the car's backseat, and when he got upset about this, I yelled at him. At the family meeting, I confessed that I felt awful about this.
"What are we to do?" I asked. I acknowledged that Mr. Chattering and I tend to be disorganized at home. We have not instituted any chore chart or regular chore schedule. We forget to consistently give the boys a weekly allowance. It is our wish to improve, I said.
Then the nine-year-old Chattering took the talking stick and (after pretending it was a microphone and saying "Hi" into it a dozen times), he said something that bowled me over.
He felt we should do more yoga. Together.
Ah, that's just what Chattering Mind's son would suggest, you say with bemused admiration (or annoyance.) But no! Although I've exposed the boys to yoga, I've tried hard not to push it on them for fear they would reject it and never use it in college!
"Yoga!" I said. "You mean doing it in the mornings or after school as a group?"
"Yes," he said. He said that he had found that, when he did it, he didn't feel quite as angry.
But then, this morning, he came down for breakfast, happily listening through earphones to an old Ramones CD.
"Hey!" I said, looking over my shoulder at the clock. "I thought we were going to do yoga!"
"Huh? I can't hear you!"
"The yoga! The yoga!"
"What?"
Stay tuned, friends. The idea is in play, but the execution is something we haven't yet mastered.
Can NPR's Terry Gross get any better at extracting delicate spiritual insights from the folks she so skillfully has on her program? I love her. I listen to her show "Fresh Air" in the car when I'm on my way to pick up the young Chatterings. And the religious topics she's tackling are so, well, "fresh" and illuminating.
Ehrman talks about how scribes both intentionally and mistakenly altered the Bible throughout history. He also explains just how varied the descriptions of Christ are from New Testament book to book. Gross also gets Ehrman to explain how he went from being an evangelical Christian to liberal Protestant to "happy agnostic." I think you'll find the discussion fascinating.
This morning, I sat down and watched this enlightening four-way conversation on contemplative practice and meditation that was taped last month at Washington's National Cathedral. In it, NPR's religion producer Lynn Neary leads psychologist and "Emotional Intelligence" author Daniel Goleman, medical professor and "Wherever You Go, There You Are" author Jon Kabat-Zinn, and centering-prayer creator Father Thomas Keating in a discussion of how meditation influences our well-being, and how the failure to meditate "perfectly" is an essential part of its learning curve.
Each one of these highly cultivated, spiritually provocative minds could be advanced as Cathedral keynoters in their own right, but what a thrill it was to see all three loving friends on the same dias. You will learn much about "living your life as if it mattered, and showing up with all your heart." You'll also hear what meditation is and isn't, but--here's the caveat--you have to watch the whole hour on your computer monitor as you would a television program (the National Cathedral doesn't boil down its presentations into sound bites!), which takes some presence of mind in and of itself. As you watch, admire the emerging technology! Soon, any speech in the country will be able to be preserved and broadcast over the Internet. Both broadband and dial-up options are available. If you want to learn more about the work of Jon Kabat-Zinn and Father Keating, both men have recorded full audio meditation workshops for SoundsTrue.com.
So you didn't put your garden to bed. So what? The trees and shrubbs have already forgiven you. Plus, Home and Garden's website says that in most parts of the country, it's not too late to mulch. In fact, if you'd mulched your garden earlier, vermin of all sorts might have set up camp by now. So be happy! Enjoy your lateness! Mulch it up!
He suggests that Christian families, in lieu of spending their savings at Toys "R" Us next week (I'm paraphrasing there), take part in activities that pass on their faith to children, such as assembling a nativity scene in the home. "The Nativity scene helps us contemplate the mystery of the love of God, which is revealed to us in the poverty and simplicity of the grotto in Bethlehem," Pope Benedict said.
So okay, here's one place where the pope and I can agree, since I know that very young children become intimately acquainted with any narrative by play-acting it. My firstborn son amused himself with a Noah's ark set for nearly four years, and he's turning out pretty well.
I shopped around for my Christian readers, and I strongly feel the best range of nativity sets, both vintage and contemporary, are on eBay.com. Have a look.
There truly is something for everyone on the World Wide Web. Here's the Christmas carol page of a website devoted to sheet music and guidance for the diatonic harmonica player. I never got past "Oh Susannah!" myself.
Last night, as I was readying myself for bed (I was, in fact, seated on the side of the bathtub, filling a hot water bottle), I thought to my chattering self: "Something's different. What is it?"
It seemed we were not alone in the house. Was there a houseguest sleeping on the couch downstairs? No.
Then--oh!--I remembered what it was: We'd brought a Christmas tree in from a local farmer's market, placed it in a new stand, watered it well, and left it in the living room, still undecorated. I guess you could say it was down there waiting for us to complete it.
Christmas trees are the most soulful company. When you think in advance about all the time the tree takes to set up and remove from your home, the whole ritual can feel like an enormous hassle. But then, when you set into the work of making the family tree "happen," the process becomes strangely effortless. You might have to fight for a fair price, fill your car with the tree in ways you didn't think possible, search with a flashlight in the basement for the lights and the ornaments, but then, in the end, you always have a beautiful thing. Like all brides, all Christmas trees are gorgeous.
I found a fine history of the Christmas tree on a British website called The Christmas Archives. An excerpt:
Why do we have a decorated Christmas Tree? In the 7th century a monk from Crediton, Devonshire, went to Germany to teach the Word of God. He did many good works there, and spent much time in Thuringia, an area which was to become the cradle of the Christmas Decoration Industry.
Legend has it that he used the triangular shape of the Fir Tree to describe the Holy Trinity of God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. The converted people began to revere the Fir tree as God's Tree, as they had previously revered the Oak. By the 12th century it was being hung, upside-down, from ceilings at Christmastime in Central Europe, as a symbol of Christianity.
The first decorated tree was at Riga in Latvia, in 1510. In the early 16th century, Martin Luther is said to have decorated a small Christmas Tree with candles, to show his children how the stars twinkled through the dark night.
It debases the divine to place it in abstract heights, in some cloud-cukoo-land. We will never live in spiritual realities if we conceive the spiritual only in the abstract, if we cannot bring it into connection with the whole course of the world and its manifestations as we find it in sensory reality. --Rudolf Steiner in "Recovering the Festivals and the Life of the Earth."
So much chatter, so little time to write at the Chattering household today! Our younger boy is still in his blue-striped pajamas, on day two of a mysterious fever, probably viral, says the doctor. After some early television viewing, I convinced Ailing Boy to settle into bed with a picture book since our old eye doctor once told me that when one is sick, one's whole body is sick, and it's best not to strain the eyes by reading fine print.
Our older son also spent the morning at home, since we had only a half day of school anyway and also since it was snowing. He wanted to practice his lines (with me) for his performance tonight in Oscar Wilde's "The Importance of Being Earnest." Memorizing his part has been an all-consuming project, and I find myself torn, as a sensitive, hovering mother, wondering if it's a worthwhile endeavor at such an early age. He's only in sixth grade.
The advice I found myself giving him was the same I often give myself. Be in the moment. Have fun with it. Breathe.
Whenever I interrupted our reading with some bit of advice, he'd look at me, and say, "Mom, I have been in other plays." And, as he pointed out, I'd never actually starred in one myself. Got me there. Being the quiet type, I never played anything bigger than one of the King of Siam's many nonspeaking wives in our school's production of "Anna and The King of Siam."
I know that tonight, by nine p.m., when the whole show is over, he'll be giddy and excited, drinking ginger ale, eating brownies, laughing with friends. At moments like that, you see your kids succeeding as they grow, starting to move away. You don't know what to say.
This reminds me of a waking fantasy I had years ago as I sat on an airplane, looking out the plane's window as I held him on my lap. He was less than a year old. Suddenly, an imagined picture of him appeared to me: he was outside the plane, in the clouds, in my mind's eye, falling away from me. I looked again, terrified. But he seemed so peaceful. As if he knew what he was doing. Flying face up, staring back at me, getting smaller and smaller as he receded into the distance. It was like, even then, I was preparing myself for unavoidable separation.
I'm glad it's happening gradually, in real time. I need to get used to it.
To study enlightenment is to study the self. To study the self is to forget the self. To forget the self is to be one with all things. To be one with all things is timeless enlightenment. And this timeless enlightenment continues forever, it is a ceaseless process, absolutely perfect, and fully complete at every moment of its being, yet also unfolding endlessly ...
To see a short video of Ken lecturing on the subject of the meditation technique called Tonglen, visit his website, IntegralNaked.com. Tonglen is the practice of breathing in all the world's suffering and misfortune, breathing out all the love and the good. It is one of the most simple and effective practices you can do.
IntegralNaked.com is chock full of marvelously quirky, spiritually informative audio interviews, available to you when you become a monthly subscriber. But this particular video, labeled "Instant Gratification--Non-Grasping Mind," on the right side of the homepage, is free.
"While Dickens' first two ghosts are vague impressions, the third is an obvious Grim Reaper, and it delivers the most profound Buddhist teaching, that of impermanence. Without speaking a word, the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come just puts Scrooge in front of his own death. This, of course, is also the truth of suffering, in that we must all die eventually, but by placing it in the future (and by coupling it with the death of Tiny Tim Cratchet), Dickens shows us that all things must change. This gives Scrooge quite a push, since not only does he realize that life is fleeting, but also that change is possible for him. He has already been shown this story's version of the Eightfold Path in the scenes of peace and merriment he's witnessed, and all he has to do is spread his own cheer to others.
'He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old world. Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them laugh, and little heeded them; for he was wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the outset; and knowing that such as these would be blind anyway, he thought it quite as well that they should wrinkle up their eyes in grins, as have the malady in less attractive forms. His own heart laughed: and that was quite enough for him.'
"Scrooge has been enlightened. He has seen the truth of suffering, the cause of suffering, and the path to the end of suffering, and the change is permanent. He has compassion for his fellow sentient beings and acts on it, he "lived upon the Total Abstinence Principle, ever afterwards", and he instinctively sees the emptiness not only of his own behavior, but that of others as well."
Thanks to the reader who tells me that Christmas albums by "Mannheim Steamroller" are her absolute favorites, "followed closely by the Trans- Siberian Orchestra. Both put out such a passionate flavor of Christmas tunes. They're quite wonderful."
I've listened to patches on Amazon.com (what a nice feature!) and invite you to do the same. The Trans-Siberian Orchestra recordings are part of a triology, and the story is explained in the liner notes.
This is the first year in three that I have not written an article for Beliefnet.com on "spiritually uplifting" children's gifts for the holidays. Gifts for children tend to be so particular to the individual, and in truth, people were telling me that my gift choices were sometimes too expensive, or that my selections had an added "eat your broccoli" or "Here kid, enjoy this block of wood" quality. I got discouraged. But I can send you to a very helpful sidebar article I compiled in 2004 with wholesome toy websites listed. These are great companies where I'm sure you'll find wonderful gifts for the child in your life.
And do enjoy those blocks of wood, kiddies. Or just for kicks, play in an oversized cardboard box when your other toys' AA batteries run out.
You know, don't you, that the most important thing you can do if you are getting very little exercise is to stretch out on the floor, lying on your back and hugging your knees to your chest? Then you just rest. You know that, right? It's important because there are days when all of us don't move enough. Better yet is if, while you're down there, you let your knees flop together on one side of your body (allowing your face and arms to flop to the opposite side). I woke up this morning feeling stiff from writing. I did this for ten minutes, and I rose feeling clearer and in a better mood.
There's a picture of this pose on "Yoga Journal" magazine's website. They call it the "revolved abdomen pose," and it's pictured at the top of the page.
It has been my intention, since launching this blog, to get up at six-thirty, as I did this summer, light a candle, and meditate. Nothing fancy. Just a simple sit to focus on my breath. I am sorry to report that I have not been so successful--there are always kids to feed and a dog to walk--but perhaps in confessing this to you, I will get back to it.
I have, however, been doing two nice things for myself that I thought I'd pass along. First, I have been lighting a candle when I sit down at my desk to work. I was getting the sense that there was too much metal around me. The computer. The lamp. The cords under my feet. So now, the flicker of fire nearby balances me out. I love it.
As I light the candle, I say a little prayer that whatever I write that day will be of help to...somebody. I have to be careful not to leave the candle unattended. How sad it would be to burn the house down! But that attention, too, is part of the mindfulness exercise.
Secondly, when I'm traveling on public transportation these days (for me, it's usually a subway), I do not read or do any work. I just look at the people around me for a time, then close my eyes and breathe. I don't care how I look. I used to be very judgmental when I saw people on subways doing nothing. "How awful," I'd think. "They're not even reading!" But now, I just sit. Thoughts come up. I am sometimes reminded of something important, and I might write that down in a notebook. But then I return to doing nothing, breathing away. If I didn't do this, I would hardly ever have any time, any gaps, between conversations and activities. There would be no silences for a higher power to speak through.
There was a wonderful element to my account-settling trip to see my insurance agent in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn--just as I suspected there might be. As I left his office, which was garishly decorated for the holidays, I found a delicatessen called Mejlander and Mulgannon down the block. After pushing my Russian hat up off my forehead and studying the chalkboard menu for many minutes, I ordered two "Dave's Deluxe" sandwiches—-corned beef, pastrami, coleslaw, and Russian dressing on rye bread. Full of sodium nitrate, I'm sure. Not something I order regularly.
Then I watched the muscular guy with a large skull tattooed on his forearm make my sandwiches, half of one for myself, the other three halves for my kids, who tend to be ravenous immediately after school. When the man behind the counter ceased to be interesting, I located several boxes of brandy-filled chocolates on a table (four dollars each) and purchased them as gifts for all our neighbors. A great moment to stock up! Then (this was the best part) I spied an assortment of untinted marzipan pigs about one and three-quarters inches long. Terrific! Though I know marzipan is laden with refined sugar, it is still mana to me and has been a sacred food since I was a little girl.
(I vividly remember first tasting it on an American Airlines flight to Texas in the 1960's. The almond paste came in the shape of a rabbit and was served as dessert on my airline food tray. Can you imagine? In those days, we wore gloves and Sunday dresses when we flew on airplanes. Oh, but now I sound ancient.)
So I purchased eight marzipan pigs. Can't figure out if I should give those as stocking stuffers, or cough them up this Friday for the cast of our school play after my son wears vintage tails and plays one of the Ernests in "The Importance of Being Earnest."
When I got back into my car, which is still crusty from the light snow we had here in New York last Sunday, I was almost happy we'd come close to having no car insurance. Julia Cameron, author of "The Artist's Way", calls excursions like these "artist dates" and she says all should have them--weekly. It is good to get out of ruts and routines.
Something about the sandwich necessitated the removal of my coat. I was afraid the Russian dressing would get on my lap and sleeves. Then I ate as I drove the car, which was fun and piggy (speaking of pigs). Possibly also dangerous.
Half the sandwich was more than fine. If you're like me, you would not have wanted to finish this thing. Then, the all-Christmas radio station played Johnny Mathis singing "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas," and I turned it up loud.
My brother-in-law: "Oh, how nice. What's it called: 'Listen to My Voice'?"
Yes, holiday hymns and anthems are being blasted from everywhere. You can't run into the Quickie Mart without hearing one. Heavy orchestrations. Big name vocalists. Christmas can carry a lot of emotion, and some carols call for it. "Fall on your knees! Oh! Hear the angel's voices!"
Our family's favorite Christmas album is by Elvis Presley. Elvis loved Christmas, and his take on the traditional melodies is marvelous. We adore it.
It is fun to get a new recording for your collection every year. And it would be delightful to hear what you have, as well as know what you want to buy. Non-Christian reader responses to big Christmas numbers and the season's tone are also most heartily welcomed. I know well that this is not everyone's holiday. Do you seethe, or just go with it? Mr. Chattering is Jewish, but he professes a soft spot for "Joy to the World," and even sings along. Everybody's different.
I'll post my suggestions for soothing Christmas, Solstice, Hanukkah, and generically spiritual winter music next week. There's a lot of it, and I love it all.
I came across a good quote from John Adams, signer of the Declaration of Independence and second president of the U.S. What he says here makes me think he'd feel completely comfortable with Beliefnet.com:
"I am, therefore, of the opinion that men ought (after they have examined, with unbiased judgments, every system of religion and chosen one system, on their own authority, for themselves), to avow their opinions and defend them with boldness."
I am blogging in a white heat today, because our car insurance policy was cancelled last week and I need to pay a real-time visit to our insurance agent. Apparently, we missed a small payment by just a few days. On Friday, we received a "refund of payment" check and a grim, impersonal note announcing that our relationship with the company had been terminated.
It's hard to stay spiritually attuned and calm at times like these.
I'm mostly shocked that the insurance company's computer system kicked us out so coldly after many years of faithful payment and no insurance claims. Our local agent asks, "Could you come by our office and we'll fax them a form that will quickly reinstate everything?" His office is in the Bay Ridge area of Brooklyn, a good twenty-five minutes by car from where we live.
At first I was fuming, but now I'm thinking, well, Bay Ridge is very cool, ethnically diverse, and bustling with interesting Italian groceries. Perhaps something good will come--with characteristic divine mystery--from this throbbing pain in the neck.
So I have shed my all-consuming fury. It wasn't doing me any good. As luck would have it, Robert (Uma's Buddhist dad) Thurman wrote a wonderful book called "Anger," which has been sitting on my desk awaiting the right moment to appear in this blog.
"Anger is like fire--it burns you, and it burns others," he writes in the chapter called "The Yoga of Anger Transcendence." "It causes you the most harm, wounds you from within, kills your happiness, and is especially hard to defend against since it comes from within yourself--it actually masquerades as yourself. Once you understand this, it simplifies your struggle to discover happiness."
If you like feminine, folksy music in the Joni Mitchell-Pat Humphries-Holly Near vein, you are in for a treat. But also heartbreak. Because Rachel Bissex, a singer I only learned of last summer, died last year at 48 from cancer. Her album, "In White Light," is one that I think you'll find yourself listening to over and over. The title song on the CD was apparently played at the end of her funeral, as friends and family put their arms around each other and just sobbed. It will, no doubt, move you too. You can listen to a long patch of it right on the album's main page.
Sun goes down Moon comes up Lighting the earth just enough To see my face looking up At her full size on the horizon
Almost immediately after Bissex's death, her musical friends got together and produced a gorgeous album of her finest work--"Remembering Rachel"--and it is being considered for a Grammy, according to posts on her website. Both albums can be found and purchased through CDBaby.com, a distributor of alternative musicians.
I hope you never think I sound like a commercial for anyone or anything, but I am, by nature, an avid helper who longs to direct people to things I like. Penzeys Spices has been such a godsend when it comes to quickly providing me with gorgeous boxed sets of beautiful spices at holiday time. My mother, a great cook who bought spices in bulk, got me acquainted with this company many years ago.
Penzeys does not put any effort into providing customers with organic items. And the Penzeys website is not nearly as glamorous as the actual catalog they'll be glad to send your way. But, boy, their boxed gift set of salad dressing spices and set of supplies for making the perfect cup of cocoa are really great. Have a look.
Here is picture of the staircase that leads from our front downstairs hallway to the second level of the house. I painted the rises of the stairs in alternating patterns with sample-sized jars of Benjamin Moore paint last August while our two Chatterings (ages nine and eleven) were away with a friend in the country. Painting the interiors of the places I've lived in has been an interest of mine since the day my mother demanded I clean my closet and, hours later found 15-year-old Chattering Me painting the words "ART IS POWER" in large letters on one of the closet walls. In non-washable acrylics, no less. When I was out of college, I painted a thick, dramatic, mustard-colored stripe across one wall of my living room. This accentuated my writing desk, my career being the most important thing in the world to me at that time.
This recent work on the stairs matches the rest of our old house pretty nicely. And I have a fantasy of continuing the work by painting inspirational phrases and fragments of poetry we all like onto the Arts and Crafts woodwork that travels all through the house. I know, I know; it might be too much of a good thing.
But I wanted to show you these stairs because, well, there's a lesson in them. Looking back, I feel that I could have painted other places in my lifetime, made some nice statements, but I just didn't have the faith or the courage. I'd talk myself out of big plans. And now that I'm older, I see that, well it's now or never. Either I get the stairs of my dreams or forever live wondering what might have been.
I almost lost heart on this project, and upon completing the first stair, nervously called Mr. Chattering in to see if I should drop the whole idea.
"I think I'm trying too hard to make it perfect," I said to him, glumly, paintbrush still in hand.
And he said, "Oh, don't make it perfect. I love it! If you make it too perfect, it won't be any good."
God love him. That helped. So on I went, painting fleur-de-lis freehand, stenciling the checkerboard pattern, wildly adding new colors as I went along.
I still have some stairs to go, and it's far from perfect, but I'm pleased.
What do you buy the loved one you'd like to nudge into a life of spiritual inquiry without bonking them hard on the head with a 50-millimeter crystal or styrofoam yoga block?
This is something I have asked myself more than once.
And I think I've found a web address that will be of some help. It's a page of SoundsTrue.com, that describes twenty spiritual "Beginner's Guides", each a beautifully packaged single CD that sells for $15.95, plus shipping.
These "Beginner's Guides" are audio tutorials in the basics of many fascinating spiritual subjects: contemplative prayer, healthy breathing, forgiveness, yoga, meditation, chakras, Buddhism, mantras, humor and healing, animal communication, dream interpretation, and others. It seems to me that there's something appealing about giving a CD that can be listened to and absorbed in a calm environment. Books are wonderful, of course, but a true beginner is more apt to find burdensome the task of turning a book's pages, especially if the topic is alien. Audio lectures and seminars are more fun.
If you explore the rest of SoundsTrue.com's website, you'll also find scores of CD box sets in all manner of religious and spiritual practice, some very advanced and sophisticated.
SoundsTrue itself, which is based in Boulder, Colorado, is an impressive outfit. In business articles I've read about the company, I've learned that founder Tami Simon believes that profits can come from ideas that are spiritually and socially responsible. The company's staff meetings begin with a minute of silence so that each employee can come collected, calm, and conscious to the gathering. It would be nice if all businesses did that, wouldn't it?
posted by Chattering Mind @ 11:17 PM | Permalink |
I like to celebrate Christmas the way my family always honored it--with parties, carols, pageants, presents, prayers and church. But--like a true Chatterer--I'm also always looking for fresh inspiration. I especially like learning about how December's holidays--from various faiths--were celebrated centuries ago. Last year, I ordered The School of the Seasons' 40-page "Midwinter Packet", and found it both informative and festive.
In it, you'll see old-fashioned and new-fangled ways to celebrate Yule, Hanukkah, Christmas, Midwinter, Saturnalia, Winter Solstice, and all the other festivals of light. The pack, which can be mailed to you on paper for $14, or online as a Word attachment for $9, includes tips on how to celebrate the twelve days of Christmas, recipes for traditional foods like puddings and porridges, traditional Winter Solstice games, information on the "mysterious gift givers of the winter nights" (including St. Lucy and the Frauen), and lyrics for ancient and pagan Yuletide carols. It's a unique compilation and a labor of love. Put on Baroque Christmas music as you read it, and you'll just melt. If you like this sort of thing, this is the sort of thing you'll like.
posted by Chattering Mind @ 11:02 PM | Permalink |
I am grateful for all the relationships I have had with alcoholics.
They’ve often been painful but… always, the connection has left me with an appreciation for the complexities of human character, and an awareness of the fear some sensitive people feel. It’s as though they think life isn’t good enough undistorted. Life is raw and frightening or lousy. Or even too beautiful. So they get high to tone it up or down.
Among the best experts on why motivated addicts sometimes still relapse is a man named Terence Gorski. I heard him lecture on codependent relationships many years ago, and in hopes of connecting you to his work, I located a gorgeous paper online on the subject of spirituality and relapse. This paper is (to use an old hippie term) mind-blowing. Filled with fresh thinking, it’s another goodie to print out and study in bed tonight with your highlighting pen and hot water bottle. You’ll come away with an enhanced understanding of why addiction is a spiritual quandary.
Some excerpts:
Many recovering people have a mixed spiritual system. In the mystical sense, they seek to develop a personal relationship with the God of their understanding and pray to discover what God's will is for them. In a non-mystical sense, they actively work at psychological growth. They believe this mixture of the mystical and non-mystical captures the principle of "turning it over, but doing the leg work..."
Extreme and rigid views of spirituality can result in relapse. Many people relapse because they believe that the mystical god of their understanding will somehow magically save them from their problems. They abdicate personal responsibility and expect God to take care of everything. When God doesn't, they sink into a deep existential depression and say, "Since God won't fix my life, I might as well get drunk."
…An example of this is the man who turned $60,000 worth of debt incurred from his cocaine addiction over to his higher power. He was absolutely shocked when his higher power turned his debts over to a collection agency.
…This is the paradox of recovery. We cannot do it alone, but yet we must do it by ourselves. We cannot expect God or a higher power to do what we are able to do for ourselves, but yet we cannot do it for ourselves without somehow touching a source of courage and strength that exceeds our own abilities. And here seems to be the ultimate spiritual principle that allows alcoholics to avoid relapse and move ahead in recovery. It is a philosophy of balance.
I love Sarvananda Bluestone. A writer, psychic, and Tarot expert (he's written for Beliefnet about being a Borscht Belt psychic in resort hotels), he's also the author of "The World Dream Book: Use the Wisdom of World Cultures to Uncover Your Dream Power."
Sarvananda recently told me that as part of his spiritual practice he writes haiku--the three-line Japanese poetry form (five syllables, seven syllables, then five again). He composes these poems while walking along the country roads near his home in Woodstock, New York. “Several years ago I decided to walk for my exercise," he explained. "And I found that my walks were anything but peaceful, since my chattering mind kept on chattering. Since I am not a very observant person and since I wanted to enjoy the walk, I started to write haiku each day that I took a walk.” Amazingly, he manages five to eight haikus a day. And they are completely charming. Check them out. You'll feel like you're right there in the country with him.
A frog in the road Doesn't move when I touch it; Cold, wet and confused.
The stream rushes down Brushing away the dead leaves; A roadside torrent.
Swish of jeep and van. The air is filled with gas smell, Then all is still.
(Oops, Sarvanada, you broke form on that last one!)
Chattering Mind is a blog on motherhood, aging, health and healing, yoga, whole foods, spiritual music, meditation, as well as the struggle to manage time and clutter.
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Here is picture of the staircase that leads from our front downstairs hallway to the second level of the house. I painted the rises of the stairs in alternating patterns with 
