There is no question. I'm right in the middle of "transition chaos" (although frankly, I don't think it is chaotic. I think it is the Universe taking thousands of factors, in the move from one reality to another, and helping you organize them before movement forward.) And adding to the transition adventure this time is attention to the health of my 90-year-old father over two thousand miles away in the Rockies, and the realization that with this kind of fast flowing life, I absolutely need to embrace an income that is steady, even when I am moving. Having virtually no income because traditional employment can't keep up with my "journey home" has outgrown its novelty(!) I just put that out there today.
In the midst of it all, of course, I do what I actually do best, which is movement inward. The contemplative nun just takes over. Sometimes I think Hildegard is even a better model than Julian because of her leadership qualities. Her "mother superior" persona forces me, as the transition chaos swirls around, to meditate, to focus as solidly as possible on my center so as not to get lost. This time I've had a little help, in discovering that the Hay House World Summit 2016 is about to start. There's a huge line-up of fascinating presenters, all online and all, as far as I can tell, free if you sign up. Can there ever have been a time in history when such a rich palette of human growth teachers and inspiration has been available at the click of a button? Surely not. Anyway, I listened this morning to an interview with Brian L. Weiss MD on meditation and past life regression. He led a meditation to help you access a happy childhood memory, and usually these things absolutely do not work with me. But this time, I returned to a memory that I may have already mentioned in a previous blog -- the time my grandmother helped me set up a tea set made from acorns and acorn caps, under an oak tree in front of our house. She and I sat down (I was probably about four) and placed "teacups" and "teapots" and tiny twig silverware on an oak leaf "tablecloth" on the rich green grass, between the tree's knotted roots. She told me that if I came back the next morning and the tea set was gone, then the fairies would have had a tea party in the night. Sure enough, the next morning, everything was scattered -- was it to the wind, or the fairies? I'll never know.
But it is interesting that this particular memory would return right now. I love the notion of this ancient oak overspreading grandma and me, rooting us to the sky and the earth. I love the notion that she believed in fairies and magic, since I don't remember her having ever otherwise spoken of them. I love the idea that a memory of "putting it out there" for magical forces to use would come to me now. Because in this kind of transition, that's "the work." Put it out there. Take the step. Visualize the impossible, the magical, but also partying among life's gnarly roots. And then visualize the sparkling fairies in the dark sipping their tea and bringing you aid. I mean, why not? In the miracle of a lifetime that has spanned a grandmother-granddaughter tea party in about 1960 to cups of tea in England in 2016, someone has been there for me, and however you visualize these divine forces, I'm sure thankful.
