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Ten Thousand Days

Ten Thousand Days

I’m Back!

January 25, 2018

Photo: Senjuti Kundu

Day 1220 – 1253

Happy 2018 to you all!  I’ve been away for quite some time.  I’m taking a little liberty with the format of these posts as an experiment in writing style.  I’m grateful for your patience as I work out how best to share the journey of gratitude, joy, oneness, service, purpose and meaning.

I’ve had this horrible flu that has been going around.  It came back as a chest infection which turned into laryngitis and then a cold.  Given that I’ve been having singing lessons, had a recording session booked and a folk festival weekend of singing classes booked, I spent as much time as possible getting better so that I could hit all those events.  I did it.  Somehow.

Perhaps the prospect of doing something I loved was motivation to heal.  Perhaps I had some help from the Universe.

Over the past few weeks, I recorded a jazz standard, learned harmony for an Old Time ballad, sang an improvisation with a couple of groups, learned the mechanics of harmony and sang old southern Gospel and Sprituals.   There is a real earthy sensuality to my voice that suits jazz and gospel music and so I am hoping that my teachers for that class at the Bellingham Folk Festival will be creating a specific group for singing spirituals on a more regular basis.  I enjoyed the Old Time music and dance and found that the community is really an incredible pool of talent and people.  I was feeling vulnerable and so before I went off to the Folk Festival this past weekend, I set the intention with the Universe for a weekend of joy.

It was delivered.

I made a joyful noise (mostly hit the notes) and in this sense, I have also come back.  I felt it just beginning to happen before I got sick – this opening of the heart and a return to joy.  Singing is a heart based activity as a spiritual practice, and has a long association with the mystics.  It is a part of my spiritual life not only for what is sung but for the connection it gives me to creation, when I sing.   I was led, by synchronicity, to find my unique singing teacher who understands that it is a deeply spiritual practice for me.  And, I was further led to a scholarship to attend the festival and to the offer of a free recording studio session.  I was meant to be there and I am clear that this is a path I am meant to continue.

I had to get well enough to be there. Really well enough to really be authentically there.  To do that, I think I had to first fall ill so that I could repair all that needed to be healed in order for me to be present.

My heart has been a closed book for a year now and we’ve seen how I’ve struggled to open it.  I had a lot to grieve.  Each time I felt finished, I found more at the bottom of that well.  At times it became too much and I closed my heart, which cut me off from myself, from others and from my spiritual centre.

While I was sick, I processed a lot of the personally horrendous year of 2017 and in fevered dreams, I was able to come to the end of some painful threads and tie them with a bow.  I was able to cut the threads and let the beautiful bows fall away.  With a lot of time in bed, I was able to really sit with what had happened, to process and to look at what I need to learn from it all so that I could thank the Universe for the opportunity to grow and then move on to new experiences.  There is no coincidence of the timing of this illness and the fact that my chest was involved.  I needed to cough out any last vestiges from the bottom of my lungs, where, energetically, grief resides.  I coughed until I bled, and then I coughed some more.

I lost my voice for a time and so I sat in silence and listened to what I needed to understand.  I returned to meditation, and my heart was open.

I’ve overcome most of my fears in this lifetime, but the last thing that made me feel vulnerable was singing in front of strangers.  On Sunday, dosed up on antibiotics and throat lozenges,  I volunteered to test out my voice in various keys, in front of a room full of strangers who were longtime musicians.  I hit the notes in several keys and some I just couldn’t hit.  And that was okay. Just by standing up and saying – I am here and I want to sing! – I crossed the threshold to move beyond a lifelong fear to come out the other side: open, joyful and present.

In being present, I am able to offer all of myself to others and I see that in some small way, I bring a little joy into the world.  For me, this is why I came to be here, in this body, in this time.

I have found my voice, again.  I’m back.


Photo: Jesse Ramirez


For what are you most grateful, today?


Ten Thousand Days

Into the Clearing

December 22, 2017

Photo: Christopher Flynn

Day 1210 – Day 1219

I’ve wrapped up my work before the holiday weekend and part of that was sorting through things in my office and at home, to make sure that anything that must be done in 2017 gets put at the top of the agenda for the few days we have before the New Year.  Sorting through paperwork, I came across old letters, emails and transcripts of text messages from someone who made my life a living hell.  My first thought was to throw them out, without revisiting them.  And that was a self-care move.  My second thought was, however, to make something from them.  And so, I’ve gathered them all and I’m not sure what I will do with them, but they will be used to construct something wonderful.

I recently meditated with my meditation group and I usually have a powerful meditation when I am gathered with others.  Something that became certain was that I need to clear things that no longer serve me, from my life.  I did this in a big way in London but when I returned to Canada, I was given a load of my mother’s things and other things from family.  I rented a big apartment just to house all the stuff.  In the 15 months I’ve been home, I’ve accumulated more, in terms of a new kayak paddle and some hiking gear as well as lots of lovely art supplies.

I have too much stuff to be happy.

I’m a writer and so I’ve kept old journals.  I struggle to let those go.

I have my mother’s wedding dress.  I will never wear it.  I don’t know if anyone in the next generation wants to wear it, but I will struggle to let that one go, as well.

And yet, I am happiest with the least amount of stuff.  I have two entree bowls. (One plus a spare for company)  I prefer entree bowls to plates.  I also have 3 full sets of dishes – only one of which is actually my own.  What does one person need with 3 sets of handed down vintage dishes?  Or, a closet full of towels?  I just feel overwhelmed by the weight of it all.

Sometimes we hold on to things and to relationships far longer than is healthy for us.  The longer we hold on, the more bonded we are to them and the harder it then becomes to let them go.  But letting things go is the only way to make space for ourselves and for fresh and more suitable things and people and experiences to find their way into our lives.

And so, I’m grateful to have had a reminder of my mother in these dishes and her wedding dress.  But I’ve lived for over 20 years away from my family of origin and I didn’t have these material items in my life.  And yet, I still held on to my love and memories of my mother.  I don’t need them. I’m grateful that one of the things she passed on to me was a reluctance to waste things and on the flip side, an absolute lack of sense of herself being derived from things.  I am grateful, too, that I have more than I need, rather than less than I need and that I have the privilege of giving things away.

I know it is going to get increasingly difficult to let go of things as I pare down the initial non-sentimental items and get to those things with memories attached to them.  But there will be joy on the other side of this.  My goal is to have so little that I could live in a tiny home with a workshop for art and glass and woodworking.  I also know that the studio space does not have to be a part of my home.  For me, the less I have – as long as I have the bare essentials plus a tiny bit of luxury – the more joy I have in my life.  To be honest, my goal is to detach so completely that all I own will – by my own choice – fits into a backpack.  And on that day, I hope that I am well enough to begin my final adventure as I walk the planet.  It is a dream not many would share but it is my dream, nonetheless.

My word for 2018 as I head into it is ‘Clearing’ and the second word that comes to mind is ‘Simplify’.

I think a part of this is also healing.  Take the text messages and email transcripts, for example.  To throw them away is a form of clearing but that just generates waste.  To use them to create something beautiful, to me, is a metaphor for all the internal work I have been doing in the wake of the pain.  And likewise, to find new homes and new uses for the things that no longer serve me and to release those relationships that have been outgrown will be a release of creative energy for all involved.  And that, is a great service that I can do for the world and for those nearest me, in 2018.

Going through all these papers today has been a little re-living of 2017 and a bit of 2016.  I see the ups and downs of the year, the hardships and the wonderful moments and the heartache along the way.  And I feel connected to each version of me that stood in those moments as they happened.  They shaped who I am, right now.  Some of those times were excruciatingly painful but I survived them.  I’ve done my best to work on moving beyond survival and into finding some meaning in the painful moments and a sense of purpose within the easier times.

Maybe this seems a strange post as we head into a holiday weekend where most of us will come home with things we need to make room for in our lives, whether we wanted them or not.  But as I passed through this past year or so clearing my office and as I begin to pass through my lifetime and the lifetime of my ancestors as I clear my household possessions, I am grateful to have the experience of doing this in both London and New York, so that I’ve gained the confidence that I will be able to let it all go.


Photo: Michelle Spencer

For what are you most grateful?

Ten Thousand Days

Under the Magnifying Glass

December 12, 2017

Photo: Mar Newhall

Gratitude, Joy, Oneness, Service, Purpose and Meaning (Day 1178 – Day 1209)

Every year when December hits, there seems to follow a wave of nostalgia.  I’m guessing this is because as children, the season was so heightened in our imaginations.  We look back and remember times past.  But do we remember things as they really were?  I doubt it.  And just so, come December, we look back on the year.

As John Lennon sang:  “So this is Christmas, and what have you done?  Another year over, and a new one just begun.”

I hear a lot of people talking and writing about how awful 2017 was and how they are ready to be done with this garbage year.  Whether it was, or it wasn’t a good year (on balance) in our lives,  I’m not sure that that putting our lives in review like this is a helpful practice.

You may have noticed that I’ve been absent a lot more this year from the website.  I’ve been working through some challenging times in my life and writing publicly about it whilst knee deep in having to take action would not be helpful.  And so, I’ve been much more private in my gratitude practice lately.  That does not mean I have not been practicing.

In fact, I wanted to make sure that if I wasn’t reflecting at least weekly, on this site, that I picked up again a daily practice in my private writing.  I write every day (or at least that is the intention although it does not always happen) and at the end of around 1000 words, I stop and do my gratitude practice.  And, I have found that what neuroscience is showing to be true really does happen.  Daily gratitude practice provides a pathway to resilience for those of us that are facing difficult times in our lives.

Returning to a daily practice has been wonderful.  Within a few weeks, I can see an older version of myself returning – she’s not completely formed.  She is more like a scent that lingers like a memory.  She is the positive, happy, beautiful, confident and a spiritually lit soul.  In the midst of abuse, she took refuge and fled.  I get glimpses of her at times and when I do, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for her presence.  Life brings all kinds of horrible events into our lives and sometimes we get beaten into the ground by them.  And, I believe that part of us can split off and dissociate and if it is traumatic enough, we can experience what the Shaman would call soul loss.  Even more severe might cause something that only a psychiatrist could name.

For me, I am so grateful to say that she has remained close to me and I attribute this to the support of a lot of spiritually powerful friends, as well as a lifetime of work on my own spiritual and mental health.   Still, as a result of a pretty hard run of it, I had lost the ability to truly feel joy for most of 2017 and some of 2016.  This is not so much of a surprise as it might at first seem.  When a heart closes down and numbs out the pain of life, it also numbs the joy.

I was frustrated with this and did not want my future to be one of a numb nothingness.

I’ve taken refuge from everything that wasn’t working.  Although a source of comfort and community, I’ve even been away from my spiritual group for a couple of months.  I found it very difficult to meditate because my meditation practice is that of meditating on the heart and with love in the heart.  I had closed my heart and so meditation was difficult and frustrating.  Rather than perpetuate an idea that I could not meditate, I decided to go to the root of the problem.  I never felt disconnected from what I would call the Beloved (or you might call God, or the Divine Quantum) but I could not FEEL the Beloved in my heart.

Something else happened for me, instead, in these meditations.  The direction I received was specific and practical.  I had some work to do.

And so, I’ve taken it to heart.  Part of acting on that direction has required me to be offline for awhile and I’m getting to the point where I feel I have nearly achieved what was asked of me, and for that I am grateful.

I’ve mentioned this year that joy has been difficult for me this year because joy requires an open heart.  Trying to open the heart by approaching it directly, can cause the defenses to heighten and make the matter worse.  And so, unable to meditate, I followed the sound of my soul.  And so, I’ve been singing.

I’ve spent the last month taking a peculiar kind of singing class.  It has been a joy to be able to feel Oneness through the intimacy of improvisation and music making with another person, without the risks of other kinds of emotional intimacy.  And, as expected, my heart has begun to open.

With opening of the heart comes the opportunity to meditate again and I can’t be more grateful.   I’ve tentatively returned to social media and to this website.  I’ve still got work to do and it is my service to all those with whom I interact to be able to be emotionally present.  I still have work to do to clear out the debris of this difficult time and so I may be somewhat quieter for awhile.  Hey, we have 10,000 days together, folks, and that is going to ebb and flow.

This has been an incredibly profound and fertile time for me and there will come a day when it is right to say more.  But until that time, please understand that the deepest meaning cannot be made without time, solitude and reflection.  My purpose here is to write something to which we can all relate and that is often best done from a vantage point of distance.  Putting ourselves under the magnifying glass in the midst of processing change will only focus on the blemishes, rather than the beauty.  There are enough places and people who focus on the blemishes.  I choose to focus on the beauty – in all of life.  And so, I am grateful for your continued patience as we walk these days together.

I hope you’re well and I’m so grateful that we can reconnect in this sentimental season.  I hope we’ll have more frequent visits together here, over the next few months.  I’d love to hear from you…

For what are you most grateful?


Ten Thousand Days

When Bad Things Happen

November 10, 2017

Photo: Bryan Minear

Gratitude, Joy, Oneness, Service, Purpose and Meaning (Day 1153 – Day 1177)

I work above a doctor’s office.  In the last few months I’ve noticed there are people sitting outside the office on a regular basis.  I ask how they’re doing and greet them as they sit in the lobby and many are really not doing so well.  I’ve often thought about the lives of those people who come in and sit in our building’s lobby and the lives they will pick up and live out once they leave the doctor’s office.

This has been a very stressful few weeks, in my life.  I was essentially ‘at the scene’ of the first fatal shooting of a police officer in Canada, during 2017.  I didn’t witness the crime, but I heard gunshots from a shootout across the street.  As I drove back to my office, I had to stop twice for oncoming police vehicles heading to the scene.  I think that one of those vehicles contained the two police officers that were shot on the scene, and the one who died there.  I can’t help but think about how quickly life changes.


Two weeks ago a family member called me to come over and when I arrived, it was apparent that the ambulance was needed to take them emergency, where they stayed for the next week.  While they were in hospital, I had to juggle care for their dependent, caring for them in hospital and to some extent, taking on some medical advocacy.  While this was happening, family was squabbling and people at a distance were arguing with me the facts of what was unfolding before me, as if they knew better than the people who were there, handling the issue.  I became very direct and not willing to be manipulated.

I remembered how this happened when my mom was dying and when I lived through the terror of 9/11 in Lower Manhattan.  When bad things happen, the bullsh*t becomes apparent.

I had a spiritual teacher talk about those in their 20s and 30s who waste their energy being deceptive and caring about things that really don’t matter.  As you get older, she said, we become more honest and authentic.  What anyone else thinks about us loses its importance, with years.  It happens, she said, because we no longer have the energy we once had to juggle so much bullsh*t.  If people could learn this in their youth, they’d have much more energy to make positive change in themselves, and thereby, the world.

My teacher wasn’t entirely right.  We can, if we have the energy to do so, continue to worry about things that have no importance in our life, right up until the day we die.  It is only when we gain wisdom about what really matters that we stop giving energy to that which does not.

A lot of wisdom is gained when bad things happen.  I’m grateful that I am clear about what matters to me and I’m grateful that I know that I try to do the right thing and can look myself in the eyes in the mirror with a clear conscience.  I learned early in life that cultivating a life of integrity was far more important than a life of wealth and I’m grateful to Harvey for teaching me this piece of wisdom.  I’m grateful to my younger self for taking that lesson and applying it throughout my life.

It has been a very stressful time since I last wrote my gratitude journal.  But I have always said that it is in times of crisis that we often find that for which we are grateful rises to the surface.  In the wake of thousands of people dying in the twin towers, it was the community of my apartment building, the camaraderie of friends and the selfless sacrifice of first responders and carers that shone through and brought New Yorkers together.  It is in the darkest ash that we can see the diamond.  And so it is with gratitude.  We are not grateful because life is good.  Sometimes bad things happen, but we can still be grateful for the good things in our lives.

In the midst of some stressful times, I performed music for the first time at an international festival.  We played only 3 times with the Music on Mains All-Star brass band but I really listened deeply during the final performance to the score that James Maxwell had written for the festival and it was a joy to be a part of bringing that beautiful sonic landscape to life.  A person who had been with us throughout rehearsals remarked that she teared up when she heard us perform, and when I listened to us play our final time, I felt the same.  There is a real communion to playing music together and that Oneness, like all moments of communion, is truly moving.

My service over these past few weeks is self evident and, to be fair, now that the crisis has passed, I’m exhausted.  Whenever I’ve had a few moments to myself in the car, I’ve been listening to podcasts by the shaman Christina Pratt and she spoke, in one of them, about this place where I find myself after the fire.  Despite the crises, I’m lost, and I’m allowing myself to ride the crises even as I let myself stay lost.  To pick up old patterns would be self-defeating.  This is a time of transition and when bad things happen, it helps reveal our old beliefs and our former structures of relating and ways of living our lives.  But with crises comes a clarity of purpose that helps us to choose what we will keep and what we will leave behind.  I am certain of one thing now: I will take no belief or structure with me that does not help me to live every day serving my soul’s purpose in a meaningful way.


Graffiti by unknown artists

For what are you most grateful?




Ten Thousand Days


October 17, 2017

Photo: Jakub Kriz

Gratitude, Joy, Oneness, Service, Purpose and Meaning (Day 1131 – Day 1152)

I try to write these posts like a journal – one draft, and little forethought.  I sometimes don’t express myself as eloquently as I would with revision.  But, unless I feel I have wrongly characterised someone, I try not to go back and edit.  This is a journal.  It is meant to be an exploration.  However, I opened a book this morning – after I wrote my post  – and found a truly eloquent summary of what I am writing about.  And so, I preface my own post with these words, from these two great teachers:



Practicing simplicity does not mean giving away all our things, quitting our demanding jobs, and moving to a mountain hut or living off the grid.  It simply means being very honest about what we value within our lives, what sustains us, brings us joy and meaning and devoting ourselves to those activities, people or things.  While we might end up having fewer possessions or changing some of our habits, simplicity compels a return, not a rejection – a seeing through and within, rather than looking somewhere else.  When we live from a place of simplicity we naturally find we need less, and instead are more open to life.

— Llwellyn Vaughan-Lee and Hilary Hart, “Spiritual Ecology: 10 Practices to Reawaken the Sacred in Everyday Life”


I have always been an adventurer and what my family call ‘a world traveler.’  When I was a small child, I would constantly run off from my mother and go where my interests led me.  Or, I would stay behind, transfixed on something when my mother walked away.  Quite often, I looked around and realized I was all alone, and I would panic.  It happened so often that before I learned to write, my mother taught me to stop looking for her, to look instead for a trusted person in authority and to stay with them while they paged my mother to come claim me.  I am grateful for the wisdom of her protocol: stop, stay still and let myself be found.

I see the trajectory of the series of posts that I have been writing.  I have been paddling against the tide, I have not followed my inner compass…and now, lo and behold: I am lost.

But being lost at this moment is not unexpected and I am grateful for my spiritual community who has been where I am, even if they didn’t send postcards from this place.  We don’t find ourselves as quickly in these foggy moments as our mothers were able to find us, when we wandered away in the shopping mall.  This process is internal and it takes a lot of surrender to let go of the ego. Things that have stood in my way have been burned in the fire of surrender.  And some dreams that I have held dear have gone up in flames as well.  There is a tendency to rush to fill in what has gone.  And, I am grateful for my curiosity, willingness to try new things and to never stop the adventure.

Where do I want to go from here?

I’ve been looking at homes in different cities and different neighborhoods.  I’ve looked at homes on acreage, homes on city building lots, condos, townhouses and tiny homes.  I’d love to live in a tiny home but the practicality of that in the confines of zoning restrictions where I currently live and work is not viable.  I’ve considered intentional community and artist collectives and I’ve considered the pros and cons of city versus rural living.  I’ve considered the question: in which country do I want to spend the next and possibly final chapter of my life?  I have always said that there are so many ways to live.

Finding the lifestyle that suits us can sometimes be the task of a lifetime.  I have recently re-considered becoming a wandering mendicant.  Those who have known me for decades will know that this has been a long calling for me, but it seems that my purpose is best fulfilled in relating to others, not in a solitude that is a relief to me.  And even in this weighing of my options, I am grateful for the element – at least to some extent – of agency and choice.

Big questions.  And so when folks ask me what I’m looking for in a home, I have no simple real estate type answers for them.  I am shopping for a lifestyle, within my financial budget, that allows me to live out my soul’s purpose.  I am looking for a style of life that matches my goals and priorities.  Some people may think I am not being serious enough in my search for what is next.  I am purposefully attempting to face it with joy and love rather than fear and dread.  And in that, I’m looking for who I am,  who I want to become, and what I want to offer the world, in the years I have left in this body.

In my efforts to fill the spaces that burned in the fire, I have pursued activities that I love, while I wait and watch.  I have joined an urban percussion band, continued my painting, set writing goals and taken up woodworking, in addition to kayaking and hiking.  I had once wanted to climb Kilimanjaro but my health won’t allow that and so I look for other ways to journey as a pilgrim would, because even if I can’t wander forever, real pilgrimage is an important element of my journey in this body.

Each time I turn around, I find something else that catches my interest and that I would love to pursue.   I’m delighted to find the world continues to fascinate me.  I’ve enquired about returning to the stage, as I am a professionally trained actor, and I’ve taken courses in beading and pigment making.  Some things I found were easy and some were hard.  And some I just decided that I never really wanted to do again.  It’s been a process of trial and elimination.  The goal has not been to find a hobby.

It has all been a grand date with myself – a search for the unchanging “I” within me –  and a test of the best tools that I can use to serve humanity by my meaningful work, self-healing and style of living, in this next chapter of my life.

In this adventure, I left my home of a decade and a half to return to my place of birth.  I did so on the hope of a couple of promises and dreams.  They did not come to pass and they are being grieved as part of this time.

Simplicity means letting go of that which no longer serves us and placing attention on only that which enlivens and enlightens us.

I shared a dream with the young man and it seemed we had shared the same values.  But, while we shared a dream of living simply, of preserving old fashioned folk ways of doing things, the way in which we would seek to pursue those dreams diverged at the crossroads.

In a span of six months, he had either changed radically, or perhaps he simply dropped the mask he was wearing.

The vegetarian pacifist that could not stand to see an animal harmed, has turned into one who wants to hunt and kill animals for food and to use all the skin and bones and sinew.  He became a person willing to bear arms for his values.  He was preoccupied with himself as a killer when last we spent time together.

Homesteading certainly does not require this!  And more to the point, this is not a part of the way I want to live.  I follow a more Tolstoyen brand of ecology and rewilding.

I come from a heritage of vegetarian, pacifist, anarchist homesteaders for whom community, hard work, simplicity and spirituality are at the centre of life. While some of them protested, their greatest contribution to protest was in living by example.

I am not a full vegetarian, I practice self defence and I have slapped a man who abused me. I do not stand in judgement of anyone’s choices or less admirable moments. I am struck however, by what was a rapid and fundamental shift in the root of one’s philosophy of one’s place in the world:  Are we a single unit that needs to defend oneself, or are we part of an ecosystem of Oneness?  Do we aspire to survive by peaceful cooperation or violent competition?

Faced with someone whose whole way of orienting himself to others had changed 180 degrees in such a short time, I returned to looking within.

Who am I, at the core? 

What is unchanging about me, in all circumstances? 

How can I use this to live my soul’s purpose?

This, my friends, is the fundamental quest of every mystic and spiritual aspirant.

There has been a shift with many people – not so much in my age group or the baby boomers before me, but more so with the millennial generation – toward simplicity, folk arts and old timey ways of doing things as well as moderate to extreme re-wilding.  Artists and craftspersons have re-labelled themselves as ‘makers’ and ‘storytellers’ and I’m okay with those labels.  What is inspiring is that in the midst of mourning the loss of my companion on this journey, I have found that there are many many people out there who are discovering alternative lifestyles and living simply.

For me it is not just a whim. I have explored the many ways I can live by this principle of simplicity for nearly 20 years and it is my heritage.  Simplicity was part of the only vows I ever wrote and declared, at my ordination.

I have a great advantage.  With the large span in years between my siblings and myself, I am still the child of parents who lived on a farm and practiced old-timey ways and handicrafts out of necessity, not nostalgia.  I have the benefit of my father’s stories of just how darned hard it was to live without an electric stove or indoor plumbing, when he was a child.  I remember my grandmother making cheese, weaving, and actually using a washboard to wash clothes; not to produce the nostalgic sound I create in my percussion offerings.

In this process, I have looked within and back to my ancestors.  I see a richness of culture and of tradition.  I also see that ideals are often difficult but not impossible to maintain in juxtaposition with the modern world.  And I see the ways in which technology can be used to free up time and create wellbeing, in order to accomplish my soul’s purpose of leaving the world better than I found it.

I’m not having a romance with the belief that all self discovery and meaning can be found in complete rewilding and de-domestication, of returning to a life without electricity, running water, central heating and medical facilities.  This may be more sustainable (or maybe not – the research is still not clear) but it is not, in itself, going to give me peace and contentment.  I’ve done all that already and I learned the truth in the Buddhist adage: Everywhere you go, there you are.   It is not a change in circumstances but the spiritual work of a lifetime that brings us, finally, to a state of Simplicity.  And, at my age and state of health, now, to re-wild myself in a physical sense might possibly give me parasites, pneumonia and morbidity – as well as shorten my lifespan.  And if we all re-wild ourselves, I am not certain it would be more sustainable for the planet.  Life (all life) is too precious to shorten needlessly.

Re-wilding, in the end, is an inner process, helped by old skills and communion with nature. Permanent retreat to the forest is not needed for me to bring forth the things  I want: freedom, preservation of old skills, simplicity, pacifism, community, spirituality, sustainability, healing and artistic expression.

The true yogi, Swami Satchidananda used to say, can meditate on the streets of New York City.

I am beginning to find new ways to dream and to achieve the dream I had wanted to live.  It is embryonic and it is fragile.  Because of that, I am protective of it and I don’t like to talk about it much.

At each stage in life, we get lost and found again and the process takes on different emotions.  As a toddler, it was panic.  As a teenager, it was angst.  In my quarter-life crisis, it was a vague ennui and anger that life was not as I thought it would be, and a passion to protest and not to conform.  At mid life, it becomes one of accepting that some of life did not go as  hoped and some dreams need to die.

The passion remains but the focus must change from outer to inner in order to move outward again.

I’m lost.

I think this is a most glorious, fragile and tender place to be.  I’m not rushing to become anything or buy anything or adopt anything.  I’m letting go of all that I can.

I am stopping, getting still and waiting to be found.


Photo: Clem Onojeghuo

For what are you most grateful, today?




Ten Thousand Days


September 25, 2017

Photo: Natalie Rhea Riggs

Gratitude, Joy, Oneness, Service, Purpose and Meaning (Day 1104 – Day 1130)

I wrote a post a few days ago.  I wrote it.  Published it. Re-wrote it.  Unpublished it.  Re-wrote it again.  Published it again.  After about an hour, I took it down for good.

The old post was about the narratives we tell about our relationships.  I realized that there are always at least as many stories of relationship as there are participants to that relationship.  The story continues to change, as we change.  And, the further away from the event we get, the further away from the Truth we get.  We all re-write our history, in order to make meaning of the seemingly senseless pain we endure, to maintain our ego and to take back the illusion of control of a chaotic world.

I’ve been thinking about the way that some of us tend to push one another’s buttons in a relationship.  If it is a relationship where one or  both parties withhold or react to having their buttons pushed, rather than getting still and focused on their inner compass and being able to respond to a situation in an assertive and direct way, before either have reacted, we can quickly lose our bearings as if we are trying to follow a compass that is being pulled by the magnetic poles of withholding and reaction.

When the young man ended our relationship in December, people told me to focus on myself.  It was impossible, for many months.  I had been so blindsided that I couldn’t make sense of it.  Somehow, if I could make sense of it, then the world would not be a dangerous place where chaos ruled.  I never did make sense of it, though my head looped around and I googled everything I could find to try to explain his behavior.   I found that trying to make sense of someone else is a pointless exercise.  We really are here to make sense and meaning out of our own lives.

After several months of being sick of going in circles, I decided to resurrect what I had buried in the relationship – my inner compass.  Instead of trying to figure him out, I focused on me.  Why had things gone so wrong for me and what did I do that was unhelpful in getting my needs met?

I did this in my spiritual work.  I painted about it.  I wrote about it.  But with two steps forward, I would fall back one step again, and try again to understand him instead of trying to understand how it made me feel and what I wanted to do, as a result of it.  I kept trying to navigate from the landmarks of our relationship that he left behind instead of navigating by my inner compass.

In desperation, I threw the whole thing into the fire and asked to be purged of it.  I was fed up with it.

But I hadn’t resolved it.

The embers of that broken relationship did not stay in the fire to be doused and buried and purified by the fire.  I stirred the embers, and they floated up on the wind to burn me, once again.

Photo: Ihor Malytskyi

I had been abandoned by him, yes.  And, I had survived.  But then I fooled myself that the next ‘right’ thing to do, was to reach out and propose that we be friends.  I was not changed enough to manage my responses to having my buttons pushed and developing a friendship with someone who had treated me with such little regard – in the absence of his making amends and altering his behaviour –  was a fatal act of self abandonment.

When we met again, I was observant and cautious.  He asked me to open up and I didn’t listen to my small voice say – ‘I don’t feel safe to do that yet.’  I took the leap, before I knew if it was safe (it turned out that it wasn’t) and I abandoned myself again, at the side of the lake and got into the kayak with him.

The waters that seemed clear as we left the shore quickly grew murky as they always had been.

In a few weeks, things spun out of control again and nothing was making sense.  I found myself spending more time wondering: ‘What is going on here?’ than I spent on getting clear about how I felt about what was going on.  I had stopped navigating by my inner compass.

There is a phrase in orienteering and hiking that says even though we have a compass and can triangulate our bearings from the landscape and a map, it is far better to STAY on course and stay found than to get lost and need to find our way back.  Within two days of not heeding my own compass, I was lost.  Old patterns resurfaced and with the best of intentions, conscious response gave way to unconscious reaction on both our parts.  It was ugly in the end.

In our last meeting, I headed for one compass bearing and I had the map to get me where I wanted to go.  But love and compassion for another can sometimes make us abandon ourselves, if we don’t have the same respect for ourselves that we expect others to show us.  One might say he abandoned me, and yes, he did that, again.  But what is most important for me to learn is that I allowed that to happen, by abandoning myself.  Neither of us could keep our bearings and in a panic, we both reacted.

I learned that the worst abandonment we can feel is when we abandon our own wellbeing for that of another.  Once we do that, we are lost and we will resort to our primal instincts to find our way home.  Primal instincts may be what we want to leave behind but what we’ve left behind is ourselves.  Autopilot takes over, so that we survive.  Sometimes, people get hurt in our drive to survive.

I’m grateful for this lesson.

I’m grateful for The Work of Byron Katie.  I don’t know that she is for everyone, or even for me over the long haul.  But this weekend I listened to her and found she helped me to turn around old stories and re-examine them.  And, I’m grateful for the work of a relationship counselor from Chicago, whose U-Tube videos helped me to see the pattern that I keep looping back into.

The hook of that pattern grabbed me so quickly, completely and left me reacting without conscious choice.  And yet, when I trace back the events, I see that I lost my ability to be conscious and choose my response when I abandoned myself and kept abandoning myself – even when I had moments to take my bearings.

I’m  grateful for the words of a friend who re-counted a tale of a visit with her long time teacher that never happened.  Her teacher had called and said that she just wasn’t up for it.  My friend was disappointed but grateful that the teacher had not pushed herself and then had resentment that would ruin the weekend for both of them.  This hit home.

On my last weekend visit with the young man, I was exhausted and I didn’t feel I’d been treated with respect in the lead up to the weekend.  I didn’t feel he was honoring his conscious agreements with me and most worryingly, I didn’t feel that I was hearing the full truth of what was going on, the impacts of which were bearing down on me.  This left me feeling a way I don’t want to feel, in my life.  Instead of calling off our visit, I went ahead with it, and I abandoned myself and how I really felt about everything.  Everything went to hell in a handbasket from there.

There is joy in getting to the crux of the matter by working through the events that led up to and precipitated the ugly encounter.  The joy is in finding that the needle for magnetic north points right back inside ourselves.  We are not at the whim of a chaotic universe.  The chaos ensues when we abandon our true north readings.

The first ending between us was accompanied by a lot of blame directed at me.  The second ending had a lot of blame directed at him.

In reality, we are both to blame for not being true to ourselves and not being forthright, truthful and kind about what that meant for ourselves and the other.  We each have our flaws, and it really isn’t in anyone’s interest to recount those.  Nor is it in either of our interest to judge one another for the way we behave.  What is in my interest now is to recognize that we push one another’s buttons and neither of us currently has the skills to stop reacting when that happens.  In that Oneness, we are both flawed and ugly and infinitely and intrinsically loveable.

The relationship with the young man was a hard one and was also meaningful.  I have learned from this episode, and now, in order to be of service to all those with whom I am in relationship, I must get clear about how I want to feel in relationship, and what my non-negotiable ‘must haves’ are (respect, forthrightness,  keeping agreements etc), and what are non-negotiable ‘deal breakers’ (lies, addiction, criminal activity etc) for me.  These are the markers on my inner compass that I need to honor, and my role is to keep my attention on my inner bearings as it calls to me and directs my course towards fulfilling my soul’s purpose – both in and out of relationships.

This is my personal task as we head into our fourth year of gratitude practice.  Nobody said this journey of 10,000 days of gratitude was going to be easy.  I expected a lot of growth and transformation from the path.  And, transformation is not always pretty.

I don’t condone his disrespectful behavior, but there are always at least as many sides to the story of a relationship as there are participants to that relationship.   Whatever the absolute truth of the relationship, I can say that I am grateful that the young man came into my life because I learned so much from being in relationship with him.  Mostly, I learned that everything changes when I honour myself, first.


Photo: Nik Shuliahin

For what are you most grateful, today?


Ten Thousand Days


August 28, 2017

Photo: Aaron Burden

Gratitude, Joy, Oneness, Service, Purpose and Meaning (Day 1075 – 1103)

I have found that the overwhelming task of re-orienting to life after the fire can sometimes cause me to panic.  After the young man threw a bomb into our relationship, I learned that one of the things we do when we are caught in our grief and cannot move out of it is to search for the lost person everywhere and to try to re-establish order.  I remember when my mother died, I would go to pick up the phone to call her, or set an extra place at the dinner table and I would think I saw her face in a crowd.

I’ve been searching since the fire ritual, and I’m working to just get dead calm like a still day on the ocean.  As I try to adjust to being just the space between the ashes of who I once was, I have been searching for what will come next.  Even as I bury the babies and I cry my tears for what has died, I have been searching.  I have been trying to put my life back together and try on new lives like new sets of clothes.  Nothing seems to fit.

And then I remember that in re-birth, just as in birth, we are in the water, alone and naked.  This vulnerable time is a necessary part of real transformation.

The only thing that calms me is a return to the ocean.  Yes, early on I started walking by the sea.  That is still enjoyable for me but I’ve learned, in this process, that I love to be on the water, or in the water.  I can’t afford to sail, so I’ve taken up sea kayaking.  And I do it as often as I can.

When I was a child, I was a long distance swimmer.  For me, the constant repetition of the stroke and the breath was a meditation.  Life was not always easy for me, as the youngest sibling whose older sisters often resented her presence and bullied her, as siblings do.  But swimming, I was free.  I swam for hours and because my sisters would hold my head under water at the public pool to taunt me, I grew stronger from the constant practice of breath, stroke, breath, stroke, treading water and holding my breath.  I stayed calm in a world that was turbulent for me.


The young man is going through a similar process of trying on lives, and I saw him recently.  He told me that “I have time” to figure it all out.  While we share this in common, and that is a comfort, I am the only one of us who can see life from both sides of the age gap.  I have been where he is in life. But where I am – that is a place he cannot yet know.  I am alone, trying to fathom its depths.

At times, I feel quite lonely, here.

I think it was Soren Kierkegard who said that “Life can only be understood backwardsbut it must be lived forwards.”  And even as I paddle, I know that I can’t know what is ahead of me but I can know what is behind me and yet, life is flowing.  We can never go back to a point that has flowed past us.

For a long time after the ending of our relationship, I tried to make sense of things.  After 7 months, I came upon one thought that I had never thought and only then did the pieces come together.  Having the pieces come together, however, does not make the fact of the situation any easier to bear.  When things hurt, understanding why they hurt doesn’t take away the sting.  All it does is put the mind to rest, and possibly provide insights for what can be expected, going forward. It doesn’t change anything.

I’ve seen him and I’ve talked to him and I feel strange.  There are just so many emotions that run the gamut from ease to sadness to a distant observation of what is.  I’ve been in this place before and it is very internal and intimate and I wouldn’t want to describe all that is going on – to him or to anyone else.  Something has died and I’m watching “what is,” with detachment.  This won’t last, but I am surprised by my lack of desire to rush in and re-order the universe.  What is, is.  What the meaning in it is – well – maybe I’ll only know in a year or 10 or 20 or at the end of my life.  Or maybe I will never know.  And maybe it doesn’t even matter.

Perhaps this is wisdom – the ability to let things be what they are and just be the observer, adjusting the rudder and accepting the tide.

I’m sure that, in time, I will get caught up in the future or the past or be somehow out of the present moment.  But for this brief window of time, I am so incredibly present in the moment, and I am grateful for that gift.

I panic about my own future when I look to buy a home and see prices rising 4% a month and I wonder how soon I will be completely priced out of the market.  And then I paddle.  And I wonder if this is where I’m meant to be.  If life is like paddling against the tide all the time, perhaps its time to stop and float and see where the current is directing life.

I am not good at just being. But I am grateful for the discovery of how calming and central to my rebirth the kayak has become.  Like lifestyles, not all kayaks are the same.  Some are meant for long ocean tours and some for whitewater paddling.  Some are meant for lakes and rivers.  Some have long and narrow bows and some are wider and each one has its own ease of entry and exit for the individual.  No kayak is good for all weather and conditions and so we must choose wisely and we must know what is most important to us.

I spent the day with a friend that I’ve known all of my adult life.  I wondered why it is that as we get older, our energy gets less directed at the big issues in the world and we become more tender and focused on our own little world.  The young man might call this “small mindedness.”  I know that I am one of the most broad minded people I know.  And yet, I no longer have the energy to fight the system.  I know that true influence comes from within.  Like any ecosystem, we are all connected.  And it is the understanding of this Oneness that makes me want to focus inward, at this point in my life.  The change I want to see in the world must begin with me.  If I change, it all changes.

And with every stroke I take as I kayak out against the tide, I know that I am fighting a losing battle.  The best we can do in a kayak is to use our paddle and our rudder to work with the flow of the currents and tides and get into the flow of the whole-body stroke to reach our destination with ease.  When I am racing, and paddling so hard against the tide, I miss the heron and the seals and the ravens and eagles that populate the coast.  When I am gentle with myself, my course, and when I  allow whatever time is required to reach my destination, with ease, there is joy in the journey.

I am doing some very deep inner work at the moment and I am grateful for this moment and the transformation that is in process.  I have no energy to paddle against the tide.  But the changes I make within myself may be the most powerful impact I can have in the world.  Changing myself and letting go of at least a layer of ego, holding the light of my soul shining – that is the greatest service I can do for the world though there will be no accolades or worldly appreciation for this.  But the forest knows when I sing to her and the waters know when I am there.

I don’t know what will fill this space that has been left by the death of so many things. But, I trust that the Divine does.  I hope that it will be a new understanding of what is important in life in order to live a meaningful and purposeful life.  Although I can find calm when the storm gets too turbulent, I feel quite lonely in both the eye of the hurricane and when I am spinning at its whim.  This is not the loneliness of lack of friendship.  This is the loneliness of being in a place in life that few have been.

I am in my own kind of wilderness.  This is my postcard to you.


Photo: Noah Rosenfield


For what are you most grateful, today?

Ten Thousand Days

After the Fire

August 9, 2017

Photo: Yosh Ginsu

Gratitude, Joy, Oneness, Service, Purpose and Meaning (Day 1046 – Day 1074)

In the Vedic tradition, it is the mendicant who burns away all worldly attachments in the fire – they renounce all their possessions, their family and friends and even give up their identity, in order to take the most direct route to enlightenment.  Nothing is spared and all goes into the fire to purify the soul.   In the Vedic tradition all who die are burned so that all that is left is ash.  In the Christian tradition  this concept of ashes to ashes prevails,  recognizing that when all is said and done, we are all just dust in the wind.  In the mystic tradition to which I belong, one must die before dying – to give up all worldly attachments because it is all our worldly attachments that anchor us here and keep us from being able to reach the spiritual consciousness that a mystic seeks.

In many cultures, then, there is the idea of a fire ritual.  We can walk on fire to prove that we are able to overcome any obstacle.  Or, we can throw into a fire all the attachments to things that hold us back.  Most of us, however, if we are asked to pick and choose, will only throw into the fire those things that we no longer want to hold us back.

And it is the task of many spiritual teachers to help those on the path to throw not only the things we believe hold us back but also all those things we hold dear.

Two months ago I attended a fire ritual of purification.  It was a noble idea.   What I had neglected, however, was to consider that I have a mystic as a teacher.

I haven’t written much lately because I have been going through at the hands of the energetic transmission of the teacher is the first phase of a tranformation at the soul level and these experiences are ineffable.  I have been destroyed, from within.  Trying to describe this may sound very weird, so I turn to symbolic language because it is at that collective unconsciousness from which our symbols come, that we can feel as One.

In the past 8 weeks, it has not only been the things that I feel are in my way that have fallen out of my life – sometimes quietly and sometimes spectacularly – but my most cherished dreams, my deepest love, and my hopes for my identity.

All have been burned, and I am ash.

I had a dream about a woman who was covered by her teacher in ash.  It was only after the fire that she could have access to the magical forest that awaited her and there she found strange and mysterious fruit.

What will be my strange and mysterious fruit?

I don’t know what is going to come after the fire.  This time in my life – since I committed to the fire ritual last October – has been one of the greatest times of loss in my life.  I have had to watch it all burn, whether I wanted it to go or not.

When life falls apart, I think it is human nature to rely on the ego: I can fix this, I can work this out, how come this happened? What can I do to make this work?  And it is in this rush of ego, the drive to return to normality that some of the deepest grief occurs.


It is holding on that hurts us.


The Phoenix is a symbol for resurrection from the ash.  I don’t feel like a Phoenix. Spirituality takes us upward, like the Phoenix, to the heavens and to the bliss of Oneness of Creation.  The work of the soul, the work of the mystic, is first to walk through the fire and die.

The two month window I mentioned in my last post has passed with the full moon lunar eclipse, yesterday.  I feel like ash…or perhaps more acurately, like the disparate collection of empty spaces between the ashes that once held me together.

I am incredibly vulnerable and I feel like I have 3rd degree burns all over my body.  I am sensitive to everything.  And so, I continue to keep myself secluded, and I tend to my tomatoes, with love, and I sing to the forest, and I go out and kayak to keep me from losing all hope.

And, in the quiet hours, I pray and I listen.  And I wait.  This is where faith gets tested.

It’s easy to be grateful for the blessings in life.  Its easy to love someone who loves us back.  It is easy to have faith when we get all we want in life.  But it is when we can find a way to love those who cannot or will not love us, when we can surrender our will to that of the Divine and when we can see the Grace in death –  it is then that our heart and soul are truly engaged.

I am grateful for my cohort along the way who shared this road with me.  We lost a few along the way and I am grateful for their presence and wish them well as they move to rebuild their life, now that it has burned away.  Mostly, I am grateful for my teacher and for the Divine.


The work of the soul is not an easy path.

My relationship, along with my dreams, and now, my identity, were not things I wanted to release, but they were all beloved attachments.    I am not through the transformation…Death is complete.  Grief follows, and rebirth is yet to come.

I have been through a deep let go and I feel there are still tears to cry and babies to bury.

There is no joy in this death although I know that this lies on the other side of the process.

The last 24 hours, I feel as though I have been like Ashoka walked through the smokey fields of battle.  Like the King, I am overwhelmed with grief at what I have done and what I have not done.  And like Asoka, my heart is turning.

For some time now, I have had the growing sense that the next and final chapter of my life (whether it be 5 or 50 years) will be one of surrender to complete service to something far greater than myself.  And so, if there is any meaning in this suffering that I have faced in the fire, it is for that purpose.


Photo: Mads Schmidt-Rasmussen

For what are you most grateful, today?

Ten Thousand Days

Archaeology of The Heart

July 11, 2017

Photo: Gaelle Marcel

Gratitude, Joy, Oneness, Service, Purpose and Meaning (Day 1025 – Day 1045)

I haven’t been writing much lately.  I am in a very potent period of change following my spiritual retreat(s) and I’m expending most of my energy on making the changes that will set in motion the things I want to see come to pass.  I can’t really explain why this is a potent time, without going into the details of the mysteries of mysticism, so I will just say that the window of most potent opportunity is open right now and remains open for the next few weeks.  I am conserving my energy for the important shifts and transformation that is happening right now and so I’m not going to be writing much for the moment.

What has been happening within my heart is showing itself in surface activity but under that surface, the transformation is profound.  I have been working on healing injuries not from 6 months ago but from decades ago.  I am committed to this process.

In the course of my work, I have noticed that my heart feels like a closed temple.  When I talk to friends who have known me for decades, it is concerning to them to hear me say this.  It may not appear this way to an outsider, but I cannot feel love in my heart, right now.  For someone whose spiritual path is love and who has worked decades to open their heart, this is like being a member of the walking dead.  And so I am spending all my available energy to address this in seemingly unrelated activity.

We had a bank holiday for Canada Day and I was at Whistler.  I sat on the lawn in the Olympic park and listened to Vancouver Symphony Orchestra play Bizet’s Carmen,  watching the sun setting behind the Coastal Mountain Range.  In that moment, I was awe-struck with joy.  My heart felt the love of the glorious place where I was, for this beautiful planet that gives us life, despite how we mistreat her.  It was the first time in possibly a year that I had been overcome with the awe of joy.

Other things helped to close my heart again in that very same day, but the closure is not permanent, and I can see a tentative opening happening.  This week, as I was driving home after a hike, I saw the nearly full moon rise above the sublime Cascade mountains and I felt the awe of creation and the joy of that moment.  It is in moments like these that I feel that I can die, contented.

Spending time in nature and taking action to prove that I mean to change my life has begun to allow me to witness moments of Oneness and joy – and dare I say? – love, again.

I am grateful for the teachings and the tools that I have learned throughout my life to open my heart and while it has taken a longer time than it has in the past to heal from a current wounding, I can see progress.   I am grateful for the loving spiritual community that I have found around me who I support in working on their own healing and who support me in working on mine.  They don’t know what I need to heal and they don’t need to know.  It is enough that they know that I am striving to live my life’s purpose and that I will live in alignment with common values of integrity and responsibility.   And as everything impacts everything, being a part of this healing community is my service to the Oneness that is – in my cosmology – the Divine.

To be of service to the Oneness, I must be able to feel Oneness.  After the heartbreak of the end of last year and the devastation it left in my heart, it was hard to feel oneness and joy.  I am grateful for that taster these moments in nature are providing me.  Where human relationships can fail us and devastate us, the Oneness we find in nature can be a salve.

Last week, I had a conversation with the young man who brought so much pain into my life.  Afterwards, I noticed that I could not meditate on love and feel that love in my heart.  I am an introvert – when we feel hurt, we shut down.   But that is not a life sentence.

In any moment we really have only two choices: Love and fear.

At some point, love will devastate us.  It takes nothing to lock away our love and throw away the key.  It takes incredible courage to open up that chamber, after we have been deeply wounded.

It may take a few more archaeological digs and practical changes to clear out the fear that is keeping me from acting from Love. But there is meaning in the task.  Buried in the rubble of old pain, old wounding and old beliefs is a beautiful jewel more glorious than anything else in this world: the loving human heart.


Photo: Cathal mac an bheatha


For what are you most grateful, right now?


Ten Thousand Days

Fire and Water

June 20, 2017

Photo by Tania D. Campbell

Gratitude, Joy, Oneness, Service, Purpose and Meaning (Day 1117 – 1124)

Last year I took a big step in my life and decided to embark on a 4 year cycle of transformation with a Shamanic healer that I have known for about 20 years.  My first retreat on this pathway was held in Arizona a few weeks ago.

This is a mystery school and so it’s hard to talk about the transformation that happens and exactly how powerful it is.  I can describe what is happening but i think it must be experienced to be understood.  Much like my Sufi path, it involves direct connection with the Divine.

This past weekend, I was tasked to undertake the second part of a ritual that I began in Arizona.  On Thursday, I asked Spirit to show me what I needed to do and then I spent Friday gathering items from the woods and from the seaside to be offered in gratitude.  On Saturday, I went deep into the woods to find what needed to be found for the offering.  And then on Sunday, I met a cohort in Mount Vernon, Washington and we prepared ourselves and travelled and hiked to the ocean, where we undertook the ritual.

I’m grateful that I had a cohort with whom to do this work.  I’m not saying I couldn’t have done it, but he knows how to build a fire and I don’t.  He also knows the PNW and although I went to University here, I really never explored much of the area and have lived away from here most of my adult life.  I’m grateful that I got to see a new beach in a part of Washington that I love to visit and is closer to me than my own Canadian city.  And of course, I am grateful to the power of Spirit for answering my prayers and participating with me in my transformation.

After the ritual was complete, it was a joy to spend time with my cohort and watch the sun set.  While we prepared our sacred space, my cohort noticed a hummingbird and I realised that I had never actually seen one in person.  As we continued, crow, geese, small birds and seagulls all came to participate with us.  I really did feel a sense of Oneness with the bird population all around us.  As I work through this transformation, I am clearing a lot of energy that keeps me from living my soul’s purpose and removes a legacy of blocked energy for the descendants of this time.  In an invisible way, I am doing deep service not only for myself and my relations but for my ancestors, descendants and – with mindfulness – the planet.

The main aim of this work is to free an individual to live their soul’s purpose.  As we were heading to the beach for the ritual, we happened upon a Before I Die wall in Mount Vernon, Washington and without hesitation I answered their call:

Before I die, I want to______

Me, writing on the Before I Die wall in Mount Vernon, WA. Photo: Jeff Hammerquist


‘Live my soul’s purpose.’


It was another magic moment.

I’m not sure that I am clear about what that soul purpose is, for me – I have many passions and gifts, but as I work with the programme, and follow the directions in which I am guided, I do believe that will become clear.

As I was preparing for the ritual of this past weekend, I was very aware of the energy of fire and water and so much of that energy went into creating my ritual objects and was present in the choice of location for our ritual fire (right by the ocean/bay).  As I look to the next ritual for Summer Solstice, which occurs this evening and will be celebrated for the following week, it is very much the energies that I associate with both fire and water that are calling out to be healed, set free and celebrated.

I skinny dipped for the first time while I was away.  I’ve  sunbathed in a clothing optional situation before before but skinny dipping was not really something I ever had the chance to do.  And of all the things that happened on retreat, I think this may be one of the most momentous.  Under a nearly full moon and in the presence of the stars, I bathed in the fullness of most glorious vulnerable nudity and for perhaps the first time, I felt fully that I was a part of all of creation and all of creation was a part of me.

I won’t tell you where I’m celebrating the solstice, but I do plan to repeat the process on the beach and invite, free and celebrate the energies and lessons of this summer season.  I hope that you, wherever you are, will greet this season of passion, fire and youth with joy and celebration.  I wish us all  the exhilaration of feeling naked and vulnerable before something greater than ourselves and the courage to surrender to that out-of-control-not-knowing-wonder-of-being!

Have a wonderful Summer Solstice!

Photo: Farsai – C

For what are you most grateful, right now?

Ten Thousand Days

Exhausted but Well

June 12, 2017

Photo: Sabri Tuzcu

Gratitude, Joy, Oneness, Service, Purpose and Meaning (Day 1102 – 1116)

I am exhausted but I am well. I’ve been on two spiritual retreats, back to back for the past 10 days.  I’ve been on spiritual retreats before.  They are taxing.  Usually you are in a place that is – in many ways –  not your comfort zone and one’s last bastion of comfort – one’s  bed – is too hard or too soft to get a good night’s sleep.  Sometimes the food disturbs your digestion.  This time the food was wonderful and eating completely clean meant that my body detoxed a lot of rubbish and I started to feel so much better.  It was a good lesson in the way that I must care for myself.  It is easier to do, of course, when you have a full time chef, but there are simple changes I can make that don’t involve spending tons of time in the kitchen.  Salad at every meal is one, cutting out synthetic sweeteners and additives, and limiting my wheat intake are others.  Nothing I didn’t know already, but I felt it in my bones, and that is the way to get things to stick.

The other changes, well they go pretty deep and transformation is exhausting.  I have arrived home more tired than when I left.  I look forward to my bed, right after work, tonight.  Tomorrow, after a good night’s sleep in my beautiful memory foam mattress, I will be in a better position to tackle things.   For now, all I can think about is staying awake another 5 hours.  I feel as though I have jet lag – the way I used to feel after flying back to London from the West Coast of Canada.  I don’t have jet lag.  But the exhaustion is complete.   Sleep is healing, on many levels.  In my sleep I have dreamed – a LOT – in the past 10 days.  And those dreams are very much my teachers.

I’m grateful for the wonderful teachings I received this week and for the transmission of the teachers.  Both retreats involve transformation and that kind of work is profound and exhausting.  I’m grateful to feel a shift and I am grateful that I’ve been given some new tools (although it is up to me and me alone to work them) to help make the shift one that sticks.  It was a joy to experience a kind of Oneness that can only come from being with people who are willing to be vulnerable with one another.  I miss my gang already.  My service in the coming weeks is to do my inner work and to support the others who were on retreat, in doing theirs.

Going on retreat during the first vacation I’ve had in over a year demonstrated my commitment to living my purpose and living a life of meaning, regardless of my occupation.  It is, however, just the first step.  The next step is healing sleep, and for that, I am deeply grateful for the simple gift of being able to sleep in my own bed tonight.


For what are you most grateful, right now?

Ten Thousand Days

What You Wish For…

May 29, 2017

Photo: Roya Ann Miller

Gratitude, Joy, Oneness, Service, Purpose and Meaning (Day 1091 – 1101)

On Saturday, I marked the passage of another year in my life.  I used to love birthdays and I’m not afraid to admit that I loved it if people fussed over me.  I would cajole boyfriends and family into fussing over me on my special day (when I was a child, this stretched to my special week, and – if I could get away with it – my special month).  I think I would still like birthdays if I had a significant other who make a big fuss over me and celebrated me on my birthday.

But, there was a year, a few years ago, when I was hitting a milestone birthday and my career was in the tank and I had just ended a relationship.  I really did not want to be reminded that time was passing as what seemed like my whole life was falling away.  Since then, I’ve had an ambivalent relationship with birthdays and I respect anyone who says they really don’t want to make a fuss over their day.  The older we get, the more we have to adjust to the idea that life is probably not going to bring us a castle or a Maserati or a soul mate life partner in the way we dreamed that it would.

The older we get, the more we are asked to let go of these wishes…at least, if we are on a spiritual path.  More so, if we are on a path of mysticism.

I meditate with a group of mystics.  I have a sense of what mysticism is and I think we all know it when we see it, but put quite simply – it is the belief that a direct experience of Oneness with the Divine can be achieved through the heart or mind of the mystic.  This is not a pretentious group of self proclaimed mystics; they are earnest mediators on a spiritual path of mysticism, with the hope of the Grace to achieve that unio mystico (union with the Divine) that every mystic craves, like an addict craves heroin.

Like an addict, the mystic appears crazy to the world around them.  The mystic is drunk on the love of the Divine and knows that what the soul needs is not always in the best interests of the personality.  Sometimes what the soul needs is terribly painful to the personality.  In my early days on the spiritual path, I learned about the importance of a teacher to guide us, because in yogic traditions, when the kundalini awakens, it is disturbing to the entire system, and can cause psychosis, without a knowledgeable teacher helping to guide us through the destruction of the ego and our entire world view.

My kundalini has not awakened and if living as one with the Divine is how we define being a mystic, then I’m not a mystic, either.  I’m grateful that I’ve not had a disturbing awakening –  because I am afraid of it.  I’m shit scared of it, to be honest.  And, at the same time, my soul yearns for it.   When I travelled to India to immerse myself in yoga, I teetered on the precipice of surrender to the Divine and the path of awakening.  Like most spiritual aspirants, I couldn’t do it.  I was afraid of the pain.

I have spiritual ambivalence, and I’ve struggled with this, all my life.

I’ve known since childhood that my purpose in life is spiritual but as a young person, it is easy to put off what is difficult because we feel we have all the time in the world to live our lives and get down to the serious business of spiritual attainment later in life.  As I get older, I see that the next breath is not guaranteed, and spiritual attainment does not usually come without spiritual practice – done in earnest and for a long time.  It is a disservice not only to myself, but to living my purpose on this earth, to put it off one moment longer.  And yet, in both conscious and unconscious ways, I’m continuing to put it off.

Recently, I was given a gift by Spirit.  It caused me tremendous pain and so, in an impulsive moment, I prayed to be relieved of my pain until such time as the gift could be received in a package that was palatable to the personality.  And just like that, it was gone.  I felt relief, but as the pain left, so did the gift.  The absence of that gift is perhaps more difficult to swallow than the pain.

What I had not realised is that the pain was a roadmap to where Spirit was calling me to work, in my life, toward my soul’s purpose.  Those who work with depth psychology will know that depression is a gift, if we learn to work with it.  In it, we can find meaning and listen to our shadow story that wants to be told.  Once it is told and freed, we are no longer ruled by the unseen forces of that unconscious story line waiting to be heard.

Of course, I’m not belittling the suffering of those in depression or anguish or despair.  It is horrible.  Sometimes we aren’t strong enough to bear it.  But it is important to remember – and I have come to realize the hard way – that when we wish away our depression and our pain, we wish away the opportunity for healing and integration.

Until we face our pain and listen to the shadow story that it tells, it will repeat over and over again in our lives.  Looking back from the perspective of a heart in relief, I wish I had had the courage to deal with it now, rather than when it surprises me again, in the future.  The meaning of our lives is not found only in the narrative of success and triumph and cultivated relationships that we tell ourselves and one another.  It is also found in the story of broken hearts and power plays and dark obsessions that the soul yearns to tell and have heard and accepted.

On Saturday, I had the joy of spending a wonderful evening with a new friend at her home and she bought me a cake for my birthday.  I had the opportunity to make a wish as I cut my birthday cake.  I’m always grateful for the opportunity to dream or to wish or to become deeply connected and pray.  Having been granted freedom from suffering – and with it, freedom from a direct experience with God – I chose not to make any more wishes.

As the variant of the old Yiddish curse goes: Be careful what you wish for; you just might receive it.


Photo: Noah Silliman


For what are you most grateful, today?