Dedicate yourself

More aspen leavesIf you dedicate yourself to a true vision, to something that wants to be done on this earth, it will find a way to allow your service.      -Charles Eisenstein

If you’re like me and are prone to imagining a world in which we all live more gently on the earth, you may have found your way to the work of Charles Eisenstein.   Author of A More Beautiful World Our Hearts Know is Possible, he is in demand as a speaker all over the world for his ideas on “a new and ancient story,” alternative cultural narratives, ecology, and the gift economy.

What does all that mean? Basically, he is sharing a story of interconnectedness and addressing the illusion of a world based on competition and control. Eisenstein brings to life inklings many of us have about the unsustainability of our economy and proposes another view and way of living that fosters community, creativity, and living in tune with nature. In a recent conversation with psychiatrist Kelly Brogan at the Alchemist’s Kitchen in New York City he talks about the process of stepping out of “the matrix” into a different way of being. The matrix, as referred to in the movie of the same name, is the idea of a reality created by man that is socially constructed, that is about exploiting certain others for gain.

“What happens when we step out of the matrix, which is where all the money is,” repeated Eisenstein. “How do we make a living?   Seriously: “How do we make a living when we want to step out of the world destroying machine and contribute to the healing of the world but there’s not as much money in that?”

His first response was to disclose that he sometimes falls into doubt while wrestling with the contrast between how we are and how we might be and to note that friends call encourage him and call him back to his work. He’s learned, he said, that mental models fail us when we try to think about another way to approach a problem. Wemust rely on another compass, he says, one within our hearts and spirits. His own compass, notes Eisenstein, has been cultivated by elders, friends, and supporters. “I’m like a tuning fork or an antenna,” he said, “that is only as effective as the generalized consciousness and desire.”

In learning to find that compass within, we encounter our pain, and we find that the path unfolds moment by moment. We do not know how to get to this other way of being, it seems impossible, says Eisenstein, it is just that the path is invisible from where we currently find ourselves. “If it is a true vision, it is not unrealistic,” he says: We will make it through tests and past obstacles and find our way to erve.

We are immersed in an old story of how change happens, but in embracing the darkness, the not knowing, we open ourselves to an adventure, a discovery, and the creation of something new. “If you dedicate yourself to a true vision, to something that wants to be done on this earth, it will find a way to allow your service,” says Eisenstein.

I have found myself dedicated to several visions, though I can see a common thread running throughout my endeavors. Moving to Colorado to live close to mountains and not knowing what my work would look like, I became a yoga teacher and freelance writer. I was then able to carry the yoga into positions working in a county drug court and then in a center for people people with disabilities. Discovering a great deal about myself and my human way of feeling flawed and inadequate, I found that in following my heart and being open to my experiences each day, I slowly grew more compassionate towards myself and others. I became a midwife of sorts, able as I was to listen to people’s stories as an writer and as a program manager/teacher. None of these endeavors suggested themselves in my youth in the Northern Virginia suburbs, in college, in my first jobs in DC. Yet they were niches that were just right for me.

I could not foresee how I could meet a carpenter living in the foothills and fall in love or how I might become an activist working to protect my adopted town. Yet I see now that the vision of gleaning wisdom of the mountains and from yoga led me to the work of helping people transform their relationships with their bodies and to trust themselves and their hearts. Whether it was being with youth deciding to value themselves and follow their vocations, or people with chronic illness who took ownership of their health and treatment, I was blessed to witness people attuning to that internal compass.

Nowadays I hear stories everyday of people who exist outside of the matrix: People who lose their eyesight or ability to walk and change careers, stories of bodyworkers and artists who learn to live frugally and in community, activists and writers who find their voice and stand up for what they love. Whether well-known like Ta-Nehisi Coates speaking about the black experience, or less known like Eisenstein, or hidden from view like my healer friends, they are pushing into new territory while carrying their own stories and heart desire close. They have chosen to follow inner inklings and to observe the response of the universe, asking questions of life, following their own visions, and finding joy in the midst of creation.

Many in our world have conceived of the world on their own terms, reckoned with their grief, and engaged in their passions. They are the “proof” that we can embrace lifestyles true to ourselves and our hearts and experience the mysterious support of the universe. They show us “the more beautiful world” we imagine is real. It lives within us, and we can birth it in our own lives and our own communities each day.


Recovering my faith through my phone

IMG_1220My relationship with Christianity has been a rocky one. I have felt conflicted about the Christian church my entire life, part of me attracted and another part repelled.  As a child I so disliked going to church that I resisted at the risk of setting off Dad’s intense temper.

Ironically, during high school I was lured into a Christian-based cult by cute young men who lived on our street, partly susceptible because of loneliness and partly because I wondered if there was a way to go deeper in faith and find something real within Christianity. As you can imagine, my foray ended badly, leaving me with a form of PTSD that to this day is triggered when I hear Christian terms and phrases.

And yet despite my dis-ease with Christianity, I found that when I hear friends adamantly rejected anything Christian, I was not in agreement. I continued to believe that there must be something of value in Western religious tradition that was either buried or distorted. Instinct, experiences of mysterious peace, told me this, and as I explored I learned there is also a mystic tradition within Christianity that was tossed aside in the Enlightenment. Much of Christianity, influenced by Newton, Descarte, and Western patriarchy, became dualistic, materialistic, misogynistic, and in some cases, nationalistic.

We humans inevitably create institutions reflecting our own limited awareness, egoic striving, fear, and need for power.  Most within a patriarchal, fall and redemption religion, internalize a negative view of ourselves as sinful and unworthy, and we give ministers, men, and bosses our power. I certainly have struggled with low self worth and with a view of woman as inferior and as subject to men’s leadership.

Throughout my youth and young adulthood I knew of no teachers speaking of a living and expansive Christianity. I tried to read authors my dad respected like C.S. Lewis and Thomas Merton, but their writings stirred guilt and confusion within me, perhaps because of my previous conditioning in the church. Though for many years I could not articulate the idea that we have neglected the feminine, jettisoned mysticism and contemplative practice, I continued to believe there was something real in Christianity.

It took many years of exploration within yogic philosophy and some dabbling in Buddhism to help me see Christianity with new eyes. Yoga taught me that God is within us, that we can practice spiritual disciplines that help us remember that truth, that help us loosen the hold of ego and live more often as the divine beings we are. It gave me an experience of God, of love and joy in being alive and in touch with our source. I discovered that Christianity has a mystical tradition of its own, that teachers like Meister Eckhart, Thomas Merton, and Matthew Fox embraced the yogic traditions and lived as mystics in the Western world.

Yet in this discovery process, within the excitement of uncovering the riches within my own tradition, I felt isolated. I had lost my yoga teacher to cancer, and I was wary of returning to the Methodist church. I didn’t know where I fit. Fortunately, I found help online, others who’ve felt the same mixed sense of disenfranchisement and renewal.

I listened to podcasts on my phone—OnBeing, The Road Back to You, Insights at the Edge, The New School at Commonweal. I heard from spiritual teachers in different traditions and discovered the Enneagram, a tool that has been immensely helpful to me in understanding my egoic patterns, and that introduced me to Christians who live within a mystically-informed, justice focused type of Christianity. In listening to teacher Suzanne Stabile and minister Ian Chron I heard Christians who are informed and open minded, alive, loving, and smart. I learned through them of The Liturgists, Michael Gungor and Mike McHargue (Science Mike), two youngish men who talk about contemplative and justice-oriented Christianity as well as about a range of social, psychological, and political issues seen through a Christian perspective. They desire to provide a home for people who have questioned, who have fallen out with the church, but who want to explore what they have missed within Christianity and faith.

I love their mind-and religion-bending take on life and spirituality. They turn churchism upside down and come to Christianity honestly, openly, admitting the conflicts and upheavals in their own journeys. They embrace the feminine, people of all races and gender orientations, and they are truly Jesus-oriented in they way they think and live. In a podcast on activism they talk to two black women who are deeply wise while acknowledging their own silo experiences as white, Christian, Evangelical-raised men. In a discussion with Rob Bell on the Bible, Mike acknowledges that the Bible is confusing in its admonitions to kill and the way such awareness led to a period of estrangement from his religion.

These two guys, neither of which is a theologian or minister, bring intelligence, education, humility, and curiosity to discussions of faith, life, and activism. They expose their own stories and invite others to connect with them and with each other.   They embrace the alienated and ostracized.

Having fled the church long ago, I find it startling to hear people living and breathing true Christianity in a world in which religion is used to justify discrimination, misogyny, and abuse. I now know there are Christians within and outside the church who are alive with spirit and ever growing and changing. In listening to these wise souls, one realizes how rare it is to live as a Christian, how a truly spiritual being like Jesus would certainly appear to us as radical, as one carrying a sword and exposing hypocrisy. I believe I am seeing a slow-growing revolution, one that is grassroots, honest, and truly loving.

Arise, Year Three


Morning after my third year at Arise music festival. Wake up congested from a damp three days, run hot water over my head, my hair, my body, twisting and shaking to move the phlegm. Notice some sadness, loneliness, feel words, music, and encounters slipping away and yet conjure up Nandhiji calling us divine beings, the plaintive singing of Doug Good Feather, the sonorous dreamlike music of We Dream Dawn inviting me to dance. Impressions of people expressing themselves freely in a kindly space, men wearing sarongs and women going topless, young bodies making music and art, expressing soft, strong, nurturing or challenging energy at will.   People of all colors mingling, dancing, singing, listening.

Each year I find parts of myself in this event in the foothills of Loveland, Colorado. The nature-loving girl who loves to dance beneath the sky, the childlike woman who loves to listen to others and discover spiritual kinship. The adventurer who longs to share her passion for life in community, the amateur philosopher asking questions about who we are, the injured woman looking to uncover her buried feminine instinct, the lover seeking to express gratitude and joy.   I don light prana t-shirt, nylon pants that dry quickly after rain, merino wool socks and minimal shoes. Pack some snacks, raincoat, and folding chair, and dive in.

Older than most at Arise, I nevertheless feel at home. The hippy in me, the embodied, outdoor loving young woman has never changed: My hair may be graying, but I can yoga and dance with most, can traipse the landscape, explore, engage, celebrate, and discover.

I learn about yogic energetics, herbal medicine, making podcasts. I pull out of the crowd, enter Sunrise Dome and watch a movie about Standing Rock. I listen to director Josh Fox and producer Doug Good Feather talk about a movement encompassing the pipeline, Black Lives Matter, and others, a people’s movement, a stand for nature, clean air and water, justice. Fox speaks directly and forcefully about his travels throughout the country learning about the devastation of fracking, being a Bernie surrogate, making documentaries. We, the people, he says, are not as divided as we might think or as we might glean from the media. We would have voted for Bernie, a plain-speaking politician who supports people and the earth. Most of us, says Fox, reject the neoliberal-corporate way. I believe him.

Indeed. I believe that if we listen to Trump supporters, the alienated, especially the ones that voted for Obama, that longed for a shakeup in Washington, we hear people talking about good jobs, people who want decent healthcare, food, water, and community. Listen to the ranchers affected by fracking, the people of Flint Michigan deprived of clean water, the disaffected coal miners and other blue-collar workers. Listen to what the Democratic party said versus what we wanted, and remember Bernie’s words about the rich hoarding the wealth, about providing universal healthcare and ending fracking. Talk about a shakedown in Washington.

What I hear in Arise, from the name to the values expressed there (kindness, care for one another, treading lightly and cleaning up after ourselves), the clarity in the song lyrics about our situation and our need, the opportunity to connect with Native peoples, to practice yoga and qigong and other energy practices, the chance to learn about herbs and permaculture and about activism—is about supporting awakening and connection. Three days of meeting, supporting, celebrating, and learning. You can go simply to party, but most of us go for community, Spirit, and fuel for both daily living in insane times as well as for our activism.

I go to awaken my body and spirit, to find a launching pad. Arise as a whole provides that base: Revisit our natural joy, it says, our love for life, for each other, and for the earth. Glean wisdom for the journey from Nature and other teachers such as indigenous people, yogis, and activists who help us remember who we are and why we are here.

Nandhiji tells us we are divine beings capable of higher consciousness. Each day, he says, honor your mothers and fathers and the divine energies within you. Be your powerful, loving self. Josh Fox presents our work: Know that it is up to us, the people, to speak up for life. Connect with the spirit of Standing Rock, he says. Become a protector.

The Trickster


Last weekend my partner pulled me away from work, activism, writing, and my busy worried mind for a weekend in the Wyoming mountains. It took some energy to prepare, to put on a heavy backpack, and walk up into the hills, but that effort led to a profound shift for both of us, a shift on every level of our being—physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual.

Rain was forecast for all three days, and yet we didn’t see more than a ten-minute sprinkle. Instead the sun shone upon brilliant green vegetation and an abundance of yellow, lavender, and white wildflowers. Patches of snow hung on mountain faces while rivulets of water streamed down trails, and clear clean water flowed strong in the creeks. Sweating, sleeping on the earth, breathing mountain air and drinking mountain water for three days while attending to simple chores, our minds calmed and focused. We had conversations and reconnected. We watched sunrise and sunset, the changing light throughout the day as sun and earth shifted, feeling the cool air and hot sun on our skin.

More than any other trip I’ve taken, this one reminded me of my passion, my strength, and my love for life. Perhaps it was that it came six months into a destructive reign in our government, in the midst of wondering how to respond, how to act, in forgetting who I am and the beauty and power in our life here on earth. Mother Nature restored me, reminded me, invigorated my body and spirit.   Remembering her, I remember myself, God, and the power of Love.

The trip also came as I was becoming acquainted with a mythologist and storyteller named Caroline Casey, the founder of KFKA’s “The Visionary Activist Radio Show.” I found this description on the website: “Her show provides the Mythological News, the Themes of Now, and has as guests anyone with a piece of the puzzle for Dreaming Conjuring and Implementing a more lovingly ingenious world.” Casey weaves stories around what is happening our world, naming the forces arising in this time of great change. She speaks often of the trickster, the archetypal force that shakes up our perspective, upends institutions, and she speaks of the conman who may appear to be a trickster but is not.

From my time in the mountains and listening to Casey, I see differently. I know we humans have power, creativity, and love to bring to these times. We can join together when forces seek to set us apart, we can create community and new approaches to our work and daily lives. We can dance, tell stories, sing, celebrate, share. Conversations in mosques, urban gardening, introducing children to farmers, creating unity among races, we can tell our own story while the “powers that be” wreak their destruction. Those of us who attended women’s marches experienced a loving, devoted, powerful spirit—the very spirit that stands, that spreads, that plays its own trickster role in this wild, crazy, upside down time.

In fact, it is the midst of great change and in suffering that the best in us arises. The light shows bright against the dark, and we know they are one and the same, yin and yang.  We know that we humans are one with all, a truth that it takes a trickster, a crisis, a breakdown to remind us of.  May we indeed awaken to our power as sons and daughters of Mother Earth and Father Sun. May we rise and shine like those flowers filling the meadows, spreading as far as we can see.

Our original medicine

IMG_1026Years ago I met a cultural anthropologist and “new age” teacher named Angeles Arrien. Small, earthy, and whimsical, Arrien felt familiar to me like a beloved aunt, and I found the combination in her of scholar, Basque heritage, creativity and open heartedness captivating as well as confidence inducing.   This delightful woman introduced me in a real way to the idea that we might access guidance from indigenous cultures, from ancestral and spirit realms. My encounter with her led to some new ways of thinking, ways of listening and noticing.

Recently I read Arrien’s book The Four Fold Way, a deceptively simple manual drawing from indigenous wisdom and the concept of four archetypes including teacher, healer, warrior, and visionary. Her aim in the book is to provide a guide to accessing our deeper wisdom and power and reclaiming our connection to the earth.

An idea from the book that struck me particularly strongly was that of “original medicine:” Indigenous cultures say that each of us is born with a unique nature, or power, characterized by our individual gifts, talents, and attributes.

Arrien writes, “. . . it is important to bring one’s creative spirit, life dream, or purpose to earth. Not to do so precludes healing from coming into our family and our professional lives. Our work is to come fully forward with our gifts, talents, and resources, and to meet our tests and challenges.” She adds, “Not to be ‘in our medicine’ or bring our power into the world precludes healing from coming to Mother Nature and all her creatures.”

I find this a beautiful idea, one that provides a helpful way through which to view my life, that inspires me to listen for my medicine and bring it into the world. The awareness of my power instills energy and desire to listen and to learn how to be myself and to bring my gifts forward. Following a desire to spend time in nature, learning to be more mindful and present with my own emotions and thoughts and in my daily encounters, practicing yoga and qigong, I become more attuned to my power. I encounter others earnestly seeking to do their work, and life is rich with meaning and daily discovery of the divine dance we humans participate in. These practices, as well as sitting with woundedness, in therapy, have shown me how I how I muted, buried, or lost my own power. I find myself growing more natural, more able to feel and express what I know. More open to community, I find myself a good listener and communicator who helps others reach deeper wisdom. And as I become freer to be myself I feel great joy and gratitude, a desire to dance, to connect more deeply with others and with nature.

In exploring my own particular medicine I started with noticing my natural way of being:  I felt a deep love for life and Mother Nature in the midst of environmental devastation. I realized I have always had a way of observing and fostering process or transformation, a way of being that demanded simplicity and ongoing connection to nature as well as my inner world. I noticed I have an ability to respectfully listen to others and to help them discover what is natural and heartfelt for them, an ability to foster exploration and experimentation in groups that brings forth knowing and inspiration for new action that leads to physical and emotional healing. I recovered a love for song and dance, and a fierce protective instinct for life in others and in the world.

While once I felt like a misfit and failure within this driven, materialistic society, today I see that I am a teacher and change agent, an artist and a lover. I accept and embrace my deep sensitivity and gentleness, my unique way of being in uncertainty as something new emerges, and I realize that I help others to listen for their own medicine. This power in me manifests in the world as I teach yoga, write, and facilitate groups for people with chronic illnesses or in restorative justice.

My hope is that I may bring a little more freedom, love, and care into the world. That more and more of us will bring forth our medicine for each other and the earth, that we may together engage in rediscovery, recognition, and rebirth.