Ramblings Of The Divine

Our Last Night In Johannasburg

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Sun, 04 Sep 2011 21:10:00 +0000

Our time in Cape Town and the surrounding area was fabulous. We met, and stayed with, our new friend Nick. He and his family live in a “ranch” of sorts outside of Cape Town, and are amazingly dedicated to anything having to do with the health and well being of our planet. Nick seemed to be a never-ending source of information regarding sustainability practices, eco-power, organics, and more. Our time with him left me inspired and curious about knowing and doing more and more and more. We talked a bit about apartheid and Nelson Mandela as well. He shared his experience growing up during this huge change and left me quite inspired with his closing statement that sounded something like this: “me and my generation have actually lived through a peaceful revolution, we know, intrinsically, that social change and evolutionary advancement is possible. We believe we can make a difference, and that the change is happening.”

Smart man.

Thursday morning we headed north to the Cedarburg Mountains and to the towns of Nieutville (sp?) and Malkaraal. Nieutville is the home of the Hiedvelt Cooperative. This cooperative is a group of 64 members who farm Rooibos tea. These farmers have come together in this joint venture to bring their tea to the world in a way that is sustainable, organic, fair trade, and powerful. Their membership is growing every year.

Our hostess for our stay in Malkaraal is one of the co-op members. She is a powerhouse of a woman named Tempest. Her actual given name is Katrina, but she said that since before she could remember her family called her Tempest. She said she wasn’t sure why they called her that, but meeting this woman left no doubt in my mind why her family would think of her as “a violent storm” as the name implies.

Tempest is 63 years young and for most of her life owned little/nothing during the time of apartheid. She is one of nine children and her mother died when she was 8 years old. She began working as a maid or nanny in homes of white people (mainly “old white women”) when she was 13. After the loss of her baby girl, the severe and permanent brain injury of her son, and the death of her “daddy”, she is now a woman who works her own Rooibos tea farm, helps run a collaboratively owned “guest house” they call “Rietjieshuis Eco Lodge”, takes care of her own homestead, and serves as a community member in ways that are far too numerous to mention. She says her life is entirely different now. We spent time sitting around the fire talking about her life, how it has changed, and what she sees for the future of other South African people. She too left me hopeful that things can and do change, and that anything is possible.

Malkaraal, where the Eco Lodge is located, is 30 minutes from the nearest town. It is situated in the wide-open meadows of what is known as the “highveld” (which literally means “open, uncultivated country or grassland in southern Africa”). There are no stores, no gas stations, no post office and not even a church (which I had once been told is what makes a town a town). Instead, it is simply a huge spread out area of simple homesteads. Each homestead has 2 or 3 small, round, brick structures that are made from the local rocks that have been hand cut into brick size chunks, and topped off with hand cut reed from the open meadows for the roof. And this area is, amazingly, the only place on the planet where Rooibos tea is grown.

We arrived, quite coincidentally, during the opening week of South Africa’s famous wildflower season. The meadows are covered in bright, vibrant colors of all shades of yellow, orange, purple and red. There are long winding footpaths that run from each homestead through the meadows, and children roam freely from home to home. It’s no wonder that Tempest says she lives in “heaven on earth”.

Tempest introduced us to other farmers, children, moms, aunts, uncles, and to the man who was one of the founder’s of the Hieveldt Tea Cooperative. Rory and I interviewed Coos Cooperman and his nephew, Gerrie, at the Co-ops “tea court”. This is the facility designed to process and package, in bulk, the rooibos tea generated by all of the members. By the end of the interview I was covered in chill bumps, and for just a moment I had the thought that we were in the presence of true greatness.

While Tempest was the only English speaker at the Eco Lodge, there were two other women who took great care of us, Katrina and Maria. These women cooked our food over the open fire (including fabulous fresh bread), kept us supplied in an endless stream of hot rooibos tea, and chatted on in their native tongue with one another. It was great fun listening to them laugh, watching them play and sing with the baby (Valentino was born on Valentines Day, and is definitely a well loved and plump little boy) and helping them prepare and cook the food we brought (we found out they rarely get broccoli or cauliflower and we loved being able to feed them as well). They basically spent their days with us.

There were 5 boys who hung around as well. Initially, it appeared they didn’t know any English, but once Rory started playing soccer with them, and running around like a kid himself, they seemed to have more English in them than we originally thought. They took Rory and I on a “walk”, and I was surprised when we ended up at ancient Bushman stone paintings that were truly timeless. One of the boys made me a little heart cut from stone and had his mother bring it to me as we were saying goodbye.

We left the lodge at 4 am this morning to catch our return flight from Cape Town to Johannasburg. It was still pitch black out, and I marveled at the size of the sky and the amount of stars. I stood for quite awhile in the absolute silence of the highveld, marveling at the vast ways in which we live, in which we see the world, and in which the world sees us. I am grateful to have had this time touring through a small portion of a country I had once only imagined. And, as is usual, the real thing is oh-so-much-better than my imagination.

(pictures wont post... but you can see em in facebook for now)

So much to say, so litle time......

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Thu, 01 Sep 2011 06:01:00 +0000

Day 17 (and now it's already day 19) of our South African travels, and this is the first opportunity I’ve had to write. My computer has spent the bulk of the last two weeks tucked neatly away in my bag, as every minute of every day has been fully scheduled. Most days have started at 5:30 a.m., and my head rarely hit the pillow before 10:00 p.m. During the few free times that our fellow travelers had, Rory and I were busy filming with William or others in the group.

Today, we are flying from Jonhannasburg (east side of South Africa), to Cape Town (the south West side of South Africa). The “soul Safari” portion of our travels with William finished this morning with a quick breakfast with many of our traveling companions, and we are now “on our own”. I am excited for the change, and will miss all the folks we’ve spent the last two weeks with. I’m now looking forward to having interactions with some actual South African folks. I’ve gotten to know lot’s about Australians in the past two weeks, but very little about the locals.

We’ve stayed at four different places along the way. 1) The casino-like hotel, 2) Malendelas/Willows Lodge, 3) The Farm (where William was born and grew up), 4) Idube Game Reserve, located in Kruger National Park. This is the largest National Park in the world is situated “next door” to Richard Branson’s outrageously-oppulent Game Reserve for all the fancy/famous folk. We actually flew into the Game Reserve by landing our tiny little 10-seater plane on Richard Brandson’s private air strip.

During our time at Malendelas we loaded into a van with a tour guide for a day of a “cultural tour”. These tours are planned based on whatever is going on that day in the area. On this particular day we visited a Chief’s homestead where a group of girls and women were practicing for the upcoming Reed Dance. This is an annual event where all of the girls/women in Swaziland (well, not “all”….. just the virgins) come together to dance for the King so that he may choose his next wife. At the same time, everyone brings with them reeds to repair the large windbreaks that surround the King’s property. The King often times has upward of 500 off spring from his large pool of wives. This country is the last truly “Living Monarchy”, and is actually run by the King (he is not just a figure head or royal family, he runs the place). They have also had the longest living King in all history. He was said to be 103ish when he died. We missed the actual Reed Dance by a week, but they expected upwards of 40,000 women. They said it’s the largest womens gathering on the planet. The girls we watched dance also had us join them, their joy and exuberance was contagious, but the highlight was a 20 something young man from the homestead named Nelson who dressed up in the Reed Dance garb and came out and danced with us.

Our guide answered all the questions we could throw his way….. how marriage works here, how homes are built a brick at a time, how chickens live in the hanging baskets to keep them safe from predators, and how religion and tradition plays in their lives.

The area was full of agriculture. Their top crop and economic commodity is timber, I think sugar cane is number 2, and number 3 is tourism. He was sure to let us know we are an important commodity.

We were also taken to a cane fire. We are here towards the end of the cane season (ends in November) and so harvest is underway. Before the fields are harvested, they are set on fire to burn away the “brushy” parts of the cane. The fires were huge and spectacular, and we had one of the cane workers hang out with us to explain the whole procedure. I wish I could tell you his name, but it was long and complicated and I don’t think I really fully understood it, even though he repeated it many times for me.

Next, we piled back into our vans and drove a couple hours to “The Farm” where William grew up. This is a HUGE area that has, since his childhood, been parceled off and developed into part agricultural areas, and part game reserve. We stayed in the Mbuluzi Game Reserve and were given two large Range Rovers to drive around. I LOVED driving those bumpy rutty roads, and finding all the beautiful giraffe, zebras, impalas, baboons, genets, kudus, wart hogs, nyala and we even spotted a rare red diker.

They call giraffes the “dolphins of the land”. We could drive up along side them and they would give us an inquisitive look and continue eating from the tops of the trees. I could feel their deep calm and gentle nature, in their enormous and powerful bodies.

The zebras had a feeling of shy and skittery. They danced and pranced around when we found them, and didn’t stay long.

Each night ended with a beautifully catered dinner alongside the beautiful setting sun and large gentle river around a big fire. And each evening was capped by a “group heart” meditation, grounding us deep into the land and into the hearts of one another, and joining us back to our homes, to our loved ones and to our purpose.

Soon we were packing up again and heading back to the airport for a catered flight to the Game Reserve. I loved seeing the reserve from the air, and seeing the towns and villages below.

We arrived at Idube after dark and were told that we are not to walk alone at night. We were only to walk with a guide as there are large game cats around. Later along the tour, we saw a leopard right at the gate of our lodge, and the driver says he often wanders into the camp. They weren’t kidding.

Adding photos with our current internet connections is taking far too long, so I imagine I'll just send along a load later........

More later, as we are off to the Roiboos farms today. Yesterday was spent high above Cape Town as we hiked up Lions Head. AMAZING!!

Mundane to the Magnificent

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Thu, 18 Aug 2011 14:37:00 +0000

Mundane would be the 28 hours on a plane. I’m sure you know the drill. Tight connections, lost cell phones, bad (bad) airplane food, cramped spaces, sleepless sleep, tiny toilets and a large expanse of ocean. ( I did create my own “yoga for cramped spaces” routine that made the trip far more comfortable)

An airport is an airport, and Johannasburg is no different. It could have been Dallas for all I know. Our first night in South Africa is at a huge resort/casino built as a replica of Vegas, complete with the winding indoor mall made to look like Venice, with murals and the blue painted sky ceiling. Seriously, it is exactly alike. (mom, you’d love it).

Where am I again?

There are 21 of us traveling in our little group. Everyone, except Rory and I, are from Australia. Everyone, except Rory and I, have been “doing the work” with William (the author/guide/workshop leader we are here to work for) for about a year or more. They all know each other rather intimately and we are a bit of a novelty. They are a lovely group.

A city tour helped me to feel a bit as if “we have arrived”. I was deeply moved by the tour of Soweto (the home township of Mandela), the recent history of Apartheid, and was surprised to learn that Desmond Tutu and Nelson Mandela lived only a few houses apart. Visiting the township and homes really brought home this painful and inspiring story of cultural change and the power of community.

A visit to the slums was sobering. It was cold and hailing when we arrived. We visited the home of Harriet, a round, shinny, grandmother who came here 17 years ago to improve things for herself and her children. Harriet and her family live in a tiny tin shack with a wood stove and barbed wire fence. There are 7 of us on the tour and we all wedge into her small living space (smaller than the master bath of the last home I lived in). She seems pleased to have guests. Her small patch of garden cannot grow edibles because of the hundreds of large rats that come around and eat the shoots as soon as they sprout. There are 25,000 people in this particular settlement. They have 66 water faucets to share, and 1,000 toilets. Their shacks are built one upon the other. This settlement is a far cry (but not a far distance) from the $300 a night rooms at the casinos. Such disparity continues to startle me.

Another 4 a.m. departure, more air travel, and now I get to see South Africa from the air – and it is rich and textured and green and beautiful.

I still do not feel as if I have arrived.

A day of driving, flat tire(s), broken car doors, boarder crossing, cold weather and stories of the surrounding area. It is spectacular. William was born and raised here, he knows the area and it’s history well. He has explained that while we started out in the lap of luxury we will gradually enter deeper and deeper into the “real” Swaziland over the course of the next few days. He seems to be leading us on a journey in such a way that we will acclimate a bit before diving “all in”. We are currently at a beautifully rustic resort. The views are stunning, the food fabulous, the workshop revealing, and the weather bitingly cold. They call this area the “Switzerland of Southern Africa” because of the beautiful mountain ranges (it’s not quite the Alps, but it is stunning). I’ve under-packed and under-dressed. It’s winter here, and I packed for fall in Ashland.

My sleep is still erratic and it’s currently 3:30 am. The alarm is set for 5:30. We’ve more touring tomorrow before heading to The Farm and safari on Friday.

South Africa... with ease

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Mon, 08 Aug 2011 22:53:00 +0000

It is Monday. I am boarding a plane for Johannasburg, South Africa, on Saturday morning at 5 a.m. The trip is approximately 36 hours. And now, I’m loosing sleep over what to pack, my lack of knowledge about where I’m going, and all the loose ends I need to have tied up before I leave. Yikes!

My mantra for the trip is “ease, simplicity and joy”. And, I must say, for the most part, that is exactly what is happening!

This is a work related trip. Our company has been contracted to create a variety of DVD products, an online course, multiple promotional pieces (and more) for an author who lives (currently) in Australia, and hosts a “Soul Safari” for 20 participants in Swaziland twice a year. His name is William Whitecloud and we are also rebuilding his website. You can see a bit about him at his old website You can also click here to check out the trip specifically.

When we were first approached about the idea, I just about came out of my skin. South Africa has been on my wish list of places to visit ever since Kayla did an extensive report about the area in her 8^th grade project. I’ve always wondered how I’d get there.

The initial plan for the trip was to send Ed, my brother and videographer-extrodinare. He’s really good. There was one small hitch – he was already committed to another project in Italy at that time. Then the idea continued to grow, and Ed came up with the alternative to send Rory Finney. Rory is an extraordinary photographer (and dear, dear friend). Rory’s current body of work is just exactly what this project needed. So, instead of Ed going it alone, the project is now getting Rory and Kim. Ed likes to say that it takes two of us to be one of him. He’s only teasing us, so don’t tell him, but I think he’s right.

I’ll be working on writing an online course from the body of work that William teaches, as well as logging and coordinating the material we need to capture, and Rory will be behind the still camera as well as the video camera. I’ll be helping Rory with sound and lighting and all those tech things. It’s a big project. It will be lots of work. And, it’s called a “soul safari”…….

Part of our contract with William says that we are to also experience the work for our own personal growth as well. We will be attending a workshop, exploring the wild with the animals, and touring around Swaziland.

To add to the excitement, after scheduling this part of the trip, Rory contacted a client of his who works with the collaborative Rooibos farms outside of Cape Town in South Africa. This has caused us to extend our trip by a week to travel even farther south and visit the farms. We will be creating a documentary for next years Film Festival based on the collaborative farming, and on the people of those farms. We've rented a car and will be driving from farm to farm ourselves. I'll be writing and interviewing, he'll have the cameras on.

I’m thrilled beyond words.

And so, stay tuned…. Departing Saturday.

Body Amazing

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Mon, 14 Mar 2011 20:02:00 +0000

My phone just rang. It was Kayla, my daughter, telling me about a poem that she knew I would love. It was an understatement.

There are pieces that quote me

Pieces that reflect me

Parts that make me cry, and others that make me laugh

I couldn't wait to share....

Enjoy

My body is amazing

Hollie McNish – Woman’s Hour 2011

My body is amazing

I can almost hear her saying it

As she stands naked at the mirror

Hands clapping in applause to it

Naked, bold and proud

Her mouth open wide and round like

Wow

My body is amazing

She is one year’s old and loving it

Full belly sticking out, thighs like mini tyre towers

And when she looks at her reflection she always shouts aloud like

Wow.

This body is so great!

Gazing down now

I try to do the same

Ignore the plastic advert spreads

That pass me on the way

I say ‘my body is amazing’

Despite what some might say

I say my body is amazing

Despite the claims you make.

The nip and tuck and cuts and sucks that fill my walk to work each day

Enhancement ads and happiness will only come with curves this way and

if I lay in front of you today

Clothes dropped to the floor

You’d prescribe me what I could have less and what I should want more of

A tick box what could be chopped off with red pen ready hand aside your eyes deciding what to slice from lips and cheeks to bum and thighs

The lines below my eyes you say

I ought to peel or pull away

My breasts will start to sag one day

My breastfed baby there to blame

She came into the world you say

That’s great

but now behold your face

your saggy stomach, baggy eyes

Stretch mark stripes you look and sigh:

My eyes, tighten

My legs, inject

My thighs, cut back

My head, perfect

My stomach, flatten

My breasts, enhance,

Don’t smile, too much

Oh God, don’t laugh.

As you mark me like a canvas page in circled bouts of red

I feel the need to tell you you might praise this skin instead

Cos as you chat about corrections, your plucking cuts and lasers

Briefcase stuffed with time relapses, scalpol led erasers

I take up your red pen to my cheeks and mark two stripes on either side

A naked painted warrior could be a sorer site for eyes cos

I am ready for your battles now

My body’s felt the worst

No scalpol cut intense as that last damn push of birth

And I have learnt with awed amazement what my body brave can do

And now I’m marked like tribal tattoos with the tales my flesh went through

But those stripes that line my saggy stomach mark me like gold

And the folds by my eyes tell a tale just as bold

My laughter lines are deeper now because I smile twice as much

so if you palm read these first ‘wrinkles’ my life would light up.

Your official position is that smoothness is queen

but without any lines there’s no reading between them

A storybook opening

My life’s just begun and

Once upon never plays

If you cling to line one

As you try to cover the living I’ve done

As a human, a woman, and now as a mum

But your red pen can’t rub out the night’s I’ve not slept, the parts that I’ve bled or the laughter I’ve wept, the baby I held in the stomach that stretched, the breasts that got heavy so baby was fed, the parties I’ve had out, the sleep I’ve missed out on, the dinners I’ve stuffed down my throat like a python,

As you pile on the pressure to cover my life

I wonder what on earth is so wrong with your sight.

If my mind and my memory can tell you my tales

Then why can my body not tell them as well?

As our babies lie naked,

Applauding their skin

I can’t wait for their lives and their lines to begin.

Hollie McNish

Taking Time.....

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Fri, 21 Jan 2011 21:30:00 +0000

THE SITUATION

In Washington , DC , at a Metro Station, on a cold January morning in 2007, this man with a violin played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, approximately 2,000 people went through the station, most of them on their way to work. After about 3 minutes, a middle-aged man noticed that there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds, and then he hurried on to meet his schedule.

About 4 minutes later:

The violinist received his first dollar. A woman threw money in the hat and, without stopping, continued to walk.

At 6 minutes:

A young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.

At 10 minutes:

A 3-year old boy stopped, but his mother tugged him along hurriedly. The kid stopped to look at the violinist again, but the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head the whole time. This action was repeated by several other children, but every parent - without exception - forced their children to move on quickly.

At 45 minutes:

The musician played continuously. Only 6 people stopped and listened for a short while. About 20 gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace. The man collected a total of $32.

After 1 hour:

He finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed and no one applauded. There was no recognition at all.

No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars. Two days before, Joshua Bell sold-out a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100 each to sit and listen to him play the same music.

This is a true story. Joshua Bell, playing incognito in the D.C. Metro Station, was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment aboutperception, taste and people's priorities.

This experiment raised several questions:

*In a common-place environment, at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty?

*If so, do we stop to appreciate it?

*Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?

One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be this:

If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made . . ..

How many other things are we missing as we rush through life?

My hope for myself is slow down, feel, notice, experience, share and fully embrace this life I am living. What beauty did you notice today?

A Birthday to Remember

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Wed, 05 Jan 2011 07:38:00 +0000

I woke last Friday, the morning of my 50th birthday, to my lover Paul arriving at my bedside, and sweetly slipping under the covers alongside my warm, sleepy body.

We lounged comfortably in one anothers arms, and talked about things of no particular importance. As lovers do, we kissed and caressed and shared appreciation for being in each others lives in our own unique way.

Suddenly, there was a bump on the window above my head. I jolted upright only to see a masked man wearing a cowboy hat, scarf and trench coat, and taping a “happy birthday” banner to my window. My initial startle turned to glee and my day of celebration was officially on a roll.

Paul and I wandered off to breakfast (or at least I thought that was where we were going), when instead of breakfast, Paul delivered me to the yoga studio. I entered the studio rather confused, only to find my dear friend Joy waiting for me at the inner door. It took me a moment before I realized that this was part of the plan! Paul kissed me on the check, told me to enjoy my day, and suggested that whenever asked, I simply say “yes”.

After yoga Joy asked if I’d like to grab a quick breakfast. Remembering the words of Paul I said, without hesitation, “yes”. As we walked to the car another masked man jumped out from behind the hedge. Joy and I both let out a little screech of startle. This man pretended to be menacing and told me to be quiet while he sang “You are so beautiful to me…..” and wrapped me in bright red tinsel, covered me in stickers and put bows upon my jacket. When he was complete he ran off down the railroad tracks with a bit of a skip and jump.

I giggled my way into the car and on to the restaurant. Joy suggested she drop me at the front door and she would go park the car and be right back. I said “yes”.

As I walked into the restaurant I noticed there was a large crowd waiting to be seated and thought perhaps we should go somewhere else, as I knew Joy was in a hurry and this was not known to be a speedy restaurant (albeit my favorite). After only a few steps inside the jam-packed restaurant I found Thunder (or should I say Thunder found me), dear friend #3. He reached through the crowd to grab my hand, and led me to a table for two. He had already ordered us breakfast. It took me a minute (or two) to realize the perfection of this moment, and the brilliance of the design that Thunder and I would get to have a one-on-one breakfast. As Thunder described his appreciation of our friendship, masked man #3 sauntered up to our table. He was dressed in a black wool jacket with the collar turned up high. He handed me a rose, whispered Rumi in my ear, and left me with a kiss……. I said yes.

I suddenly felt transition in the air. Thunder was putting on his jacket, had paid the bill and was ushering me out the door. We left our breakfast partly undone and stepped out the front door into the cool, crisp, wintery morning, to find a pedi-bike waiting for us (this is one of those bikes that have a little bench seat carriage on the back). Thunder helped me into the carriage, the driver covered us with a blanket, and we set off on the chilly (and wonderful) ride to town. We chatted and laughed and giggled all the way to the plaza. Thunder tapped the driver on the shoulder and said, “you can let me off here”. He kissed me on the cheek and bolted off into the park. The driver turned to me and said, “where to?”. “I have no idea, you better ask that man….” And as I pointed toward Thunder, he disappeared behind the hedge. The driver said, “Oh, I know where you’re going.” We continued on up the road.

Soon I saw another friend, Maya, standing on the sidewalk. She was here to take me for a stroll in the park (yet another one of my favorite things). As we strolled along, masked man #4 came bounding across the grass, grabbed my hand, fell to one knee, sang some-thing-or-other, and kissed me long and hard on the mouth. He completed the kiss with the smirk of a bandit and ran off down the park.

We giggled our way through the park, until, after much dawdling, Maya delivered me to masked man #5. This particular man was sitting on a park bench looking rather menacing. He remained silent, stood, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a postcard with a picture of the Beatles and on the back it said “Dear Prudence, If you want me to I will. Love, Ringo”. He asked if he could give me a ride, I said yes…..

It was a short trip to the spa, and took me but a moment to see the names of dear friends on the sign in sheet and realize there was a party going on in the hot tubs! We soaked, giggled, floated, hung out in the sauna, and Jessica washed my hair.

With the most perfect of timing, Dear Friend #5, Jacquelene, showed up, with instructions to “wisk me away to my next destination”. I said yes….

As we got into her car, she blindfolded me, put on music, and told me to relax. We drove a bit, and then a bit more, and then we arrived……

Jacquelene walked me into the house blindfolded, removed my outerwear and boots and led me into, what I knew to be, the living room. I could hear the fire, I could sense people in the room, and I could smell the aroma of yumminess.

These friends asked if I’d like to remain blindfolded, or take it off. I chose to stay blindfolded for awhile and let myself drink in the anticipation and joy in the air. I quickly ascertained what friends were in the room and felt loved and held and appreciated and seen. I spent the next four hours receiving the real royal treatment. The gave me a massage, yummie food and a hot tub.

Upon completion of the Royal Treatment, I was delivered to the actual birthday party, where all the masked men and friends of the day were gathered, all wearing masks, and all ready to receive and celebrate me.

The evening included dinner, ice cream (instead of a cake, cuz it’s my favorite) dancing, story telling and more. We sang and danced in the new year, we set our intentions and we witnessed our love and friendship.

I have never felt more loved, been more seen, been held more dearly or honored so deeply by such a beautiful group of people.

Today I feel well loved, and am in deep appreciation of this as a reflection of loving well.

My 50th year on this planet is easily summed up in the words of Paul McCartney, “and in the end the love you take is equal to the love you make”.

Thank you for giving me so much to love.

On a day when the wind is perfect,
the sail just needs to open
and the love starts.

Today is
such a day
~ Rumi

*Masked Men: 1) Ross 2)Randy 3)Cary 4)Paul 5)Stevo - THANKS!

Six Billion Paths to Peace Goes to India

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Thu, 19 Aug 2010 21:07:00 +0000

Six Billion Paths To Peace Goes To India
Kim Keller, Correspondent

In November of 2009 Six Billion Paths to Peace and I visited the South West region of India. I had been before, and have a deep love for the country, the people, the culture, the food and the vibrancy. My first visit was designed around a humanitarian project to build wells in the villages that had lost their water source to the Tsunami. That trip had been focused and full. This time I wanted more time to experience life in India, and to connect on a deeper level with the people I met along the way. After my time working with Shinnyo en and the Six Billion Paths to Peace Initiative, I knew this would be a wonderful way to connect, share, listen, and promote the idea that we all have our individual paths to peace, and to help others identify theirs.

Shinnyo en provided 15 digital cameras for me to take on my trip. Once I arrived I found a school that was inspired to hear about the Photo Peace Project and I was graciously invited in to work with a group of 8th grade girls.

The girls and I spent some time brainstorming the word “peace”, and identifying how our ideas around peace were similar, different, difficult or easy. Although we did experience some language barrier, the concept of peace easily crossed that barrier. The girls then took the cameras home for a week with the assignment to take photos of what they think peace really is, how they see it in action, and how the idea of peace impacts their lives. When I returned to their school the following week we spent the afternoon putting their captions to the photos.

Attached is the slide show of a small sampling of photos and captions from the girls at Sri Shanthi Vajaya Girls School, Conoor, India, Tamil Nadu. Since my return home I have been sharing the pictures and captions from these students with young people across the state of California and asking them to share their own ideas about peace, and to identify their individual paths to peace. Students have been creating Peace Flags that are being strung together and creating hundreds of feet of flags. Thank you to the Shinno en Foundation for creating the opportunities for depth of conversation, deep reflection, and creation of the visual representation of hundreds of students towards creating our own Paths to Peace.

Dancing Through Transition

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Mon, 27 Apr 2009 05:13:00 +0000

Today we danced.
The woman who ran the dance encouraged us to pay special attention to the transitions between the music, between our dance partners and between the rhythms. Right away I noticed that my automatic response to transition was to slow down or stop during the transition, but I had an overriding intellect telling me to keep moving, keep pushing through, keep “doing” something. I had some mystery voice telling me that if I came to a complete halt I’d somehow loose my momentum and be unable to start back up again. And so I pushed. Sometimes I had to push hard, sometimes it was easy, but it was almost always a push.
And then I thought about my life, and all the times I’ve been in some sort of transition, as I am now. I’ve transitioned through my children leaving home, divorce, break up, unrequited love, hurt feelings, declining income, bankruptcy, shifts in my work, my family and my heart. Each time my thought has been to keep pushing, keep moving, keep doing. In fact, often times the doing-ness of the push would help me avoid and deny the pain or difficulty of the transition. Sometimes, I think the push is necessary. I have experienced times that if I didn’t push, I would come to a complete standstill and be unable to care for myself or my loved ones. And so push was all I could do. But there are other times when I could find a way to push and remain gentle and compassionate with myself as well. A way to push without avoiding or denying that change can be difficult.
Transitions can be scary. As my life continues to move into new territory, new relationships, new homes, new work….. these can all be unsettling and difficult. There are learning curves to be had, loss to be mourned, changes to be experienced – and all of these things have often times left me uncertain and frightened. There have been times when the fear is paralyzing, and others when the new opportunity is exciting and inspiring. Either way, change feels uncertain, and sometimes I believe it is in my best interest to slow down, and perhaps, at times, to even come to a stand still. To allow the movement to subside, allow the decisions to unfold instead of be pushed, and to simply sit in the uncertainty and allow whatever is next to show up. I continue to try and remember that the Universe is always on my side, always conspiring for my success and has my best interest at heart….. even when it doesn’t look or feel that way.
While I plan to keep dancing through the transitions, I think I'm more likely to slow down when necessary.

Wake Up

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Wed, 08 Apr 2009 17:10:00 +0000

Every day I attempt to start my day in a way that leads to joy, love and possibilities. Take a listen to this and tell me what you think!
Click Here!

On a Clear Day.......

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Tue, 18 Nov 2008 19:10:00 +0000

Yesterday I flew home to Southern Oregon from New Mexico through San Francisco. Our plane left Albuquerque shortly before the sun had risen. Consequently, the flight West was accompanied by a beautiful sunrise. By the time we reached the Grand Canyon the sun was just lighting up the Western Ridge and the bright reds and oranges of the canyon walls were breathtaking. Soon we were over the glaring white snow covered mountains of the High Sierras. We flew directly over my childhood hometown of Mammoth Lakes and I could identify the ski runs, Convict Lake and see the tip of the mountain where the gondola runs. I looked North and gazed in wonder at the snow capped peaks as far as the eye could see. And then came the gorgeous San Francisco Bay. The sun was shining brightly, not a cloud in the sky, the red Golden Gate Bridge was radiant. I was even able to make out the building in the downtown area where I sometimes work. Rarely do I see the Bay Area so fogless and clear. As we continued North I was astonished at how crystal clear the sky was. Again, I could see rolling mountains and lakes and the curvature of the earth until it disappeared into the distant horizon. I could identify numerous landmarks along the way, and soon I could see the sun reflecting brightly off the newly white surface of Mt. Shasta. The surrounding dark green rolling hills seemed to go on forever. Suddenly, the captain made an announcement:

“Ladies and gentlemen, it appears there is a weather condition in Medford that may impede our ability to land. Current visibility is such that we cannot get permission to approach the runway at this time and may need to divert to Redmond.”

Redmond is 125 miles East of Medford and my head began to ache with the possibility of being loaded onto a bus for that long, curvy trek across the Cascades. I immediately began to doubt the information the captain had just given us. How could this be possible? It had been so crystal clear for my entire trip that there couldn’t POSSIBLY be enough clouds or fog or WHATEVER to prevent us from landing!!! I mean, REALLY, can’t he just look outside and see that it is crystal clear? And besides, its not even winter time yet so again, he must have bad information!!!

We circled Medford for about 10 minutes, and as we looked down out of our windows the report was confirmed. Everything as far as the eye could see was perfectly clear and sunny, with the exception of the little valley Medford seemed to be sitting in. Medford was solidly packed with fog. Perhaps the captain did know more about the situation than I did.

It wasn’t long before I laughed at how my own desire to get home had begun to cloud the facts we had been given, and how I used my own current experience to prove my own point of view. I began to use my own experience of cloudless skies to second guess the new information and reports of cloudy skies for others.

The same thing happened when I read a newspaper article yesterday about a law regarding child abandonment. Two years ago the State of Nebraska enacted a law called “safe haven”. The law stated that children could be abandoned at hospitals without parents fearing legal action. The law was created to prevent parents from abandoning their babies in dumpsters. It was decided that people unable to cope with parenthood needed a safe option. However, as it turned out, the law is now being used in an unexpected way. In the course of the past year over 30 children had been deposited into hospitals and abandoned there to become the responsibility of the state. The majority of these children ranged in age from 11-17. I was immediately appalled. How on earth could any parent simply drive their child to a local hospital and leave them there? One nurse reported a little 6 year old boy pleading with his mother, “mommy, I’ll be good, I promise I’ll be good, just don’t leave me here.” My heart broke, and I immediately began to judge and condemn these parents as unloving, uncaring and overwhelming selfish.

Then I read on.

The reasons for these abandonment’s varied widely. Some of the children left behind were incorrigible teenagers and the parents felt they had exhausted every avenue of assistance and were simply at their wits end. One young teenager had become so violent and aggressive he had become a danger to the rest of his family. One young single mother had done all she could do to feed and house her child, she was now homeless and hopeless and this seemed the most compassionate option for her child so that she would not have to live on the streets and be subject to the violence there. Another single father was mentally ill and feared for the safety of his child based on his own inability to cope.

These are people in severe pain and distress, more than I could even pretend to truly comprehend. Their lives were not the same lives I had lived. Their view from the foggy basin of the valley was not the same view from high in the sky as I rode along in the plane.

It wasn’t until we finally landed and I disembarked that I saw and felt how dark and heavy the fog really was. I quickly put on my jacket and wrapped my scarf tightly around my neck. The dense heaviness of the wet fog immediately soaked into my body and I could feel the cold dark oppression. Our landing had felt completely blind. There was zero visibility and it was obvious we were landing with extreme technological assistance. Only then did I have a deeper understanding that I only ever have a piece of the picture. I have only my own vantage point. There was obviously more to know and understand in just about any situation than simply what I knew to be true for myself.

I know it is said to “never judge a man until you have walked a mile in his shoes.” I guess this is just a long way around to saying the same thing. The cloudless flight reminded me that my vantage point of life is very limited and specific only to my own experiences-and the world is oh-so-much more than that. In the future I’ll be reminding myself gently to be on the look out for a more global perspective on life’s multilayered issues.

I Took My Heart Dancing

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Tue, 18 Nov 2008 19:03:00 +0000

I took my heart dancing today
I was tired and didn’t want to get out of bed
But my heart tapped me ever so gently
“come on, lets go dance” she softly said

I took my heart dancing today
And was reminded how lovely she is
As I felt her moving and gliding and stretching
Whispering she says “thank you, I love this”

I took my heart dancing today
She wanted to take the lead
Sometimes my intellect over-rides
But She knows that dancing leaves her feeling freed

I took my heart dancing today
She stretched, she twirled, she leapt
As she moved across the floor of dancers
She saw she was growing weary of being gently kept

I took my heart dancing today
She knows my every move
The gyration of hips, the movement of arms
She was really into the groove

I took my heart dancing today
She pushed me and began to radiate
The feeling of heat down deep in my core
Inspiring and reminding me the dance is a cocreate

I took my heart dancing today
And poetry filled my soul
Words and music and harmonies
As we danced I began to feel whole

I took my heart dancing today
The many pieces of me came together
The unrequited love, the fractures, the pain
When suddenly the worries of my heart seemed to be light as a feather

I took my heart dancing today
It was nice to let her be in charge
I’d like to let her lead more of the time
She keeps my life feeling large

Take your heart out dancing real soon
I’m sure you’ll be surprised to see
The ease in which a mood can adjust
And the joy in taking time to just “be”

Dancing can bring new ideas
Adjust a dream, a vision, a hope
Shakes things back into perspective
And keeps you hanging on, even when at the end of your rope

So dance big, dance often, dance loud
Do it alone, with others or bust
Dance inside, outside or even in the pool
But dance your dance, its and absolute must

Wandering Aimlessly

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Wed, 04 Jun 2008 06:13:00 +0000

Last fall I decided to change my life a bit. I was planning on traveling for the bulk of November and December and so it seemed to make sense at the time to free up funds for that travel and close my apartment. I put everything, with the exception of a suit case of essentials, into storage. When I returned from my travels I discovered I liked having extra cash instead of bills. I decided to keep the idea alive for awhile and started house sitting instead of getting myself another apartment. I liked not paying rent or utilities and having no space that required upkeep or attention. I discovered I could actually afford to work less and have more free time. So now, I live a life with very little overhead, part time contracts to pay the (few) bills and finance my travels, and plenty of time to wander aimlessly. It’s an interesting proposition for a woman like me who usually has more to do than I have days in the week to get it done.

Wandering aimlessly is not as easy as it sounds. It actually takes practice. My life is such that I could (and usually do) easily and quickly fill my afternoons and weekends with projects, people, events, and “stuff”. I have to consciously remember to not fill up my days, and to create space to spend time alone and wandering. And then I wondered, why do I want this free time? Why does it feel somehow important to learn how to wander aimlessly?

JRR Tolkien says “Not all those who wander are lost”. And while I am definitely not lost, I don’t have a full explanation for why this idea is important. However, I know it is and I am researching the reasoning. What I do know is that I am a “doer”. I always have more to do than I can get done. I usually have multiple irons in the fire and am rushing from place to place daily, including weekends. When it isn’t work related its social obligations squished in-between the rest of my hurried day. I am always headed to somewhere. My life has been this way by design. I enjoy being busy, feeling valued, giving back and creating change. I have also come to see all this “doing-ness” as a very masculine trait, and have learned that my masculine essence is highly developed. This has been a good thing, and served me well throughout my life. Now I have created the opportunity to explore my feminine essence in a deeper way. My aimless wandering allows me to literally roll around in creativity and flow. It provides the opportunity to experience on a very physical level what can appear when I create an opening for things to sprout. When my life is full and directed there is no room for new or expanding opportunities to come in – there simply isn’t space. I am learning to rest into simply allowing my days to unfold. It is an entirely different way to face my day.

I do find myself fearful about the future, and how I can possibly sustain this style of living. The “what if’s” can fill my brain and quickly jeopardize my serenity. However, it only takes a moments re-framing of what I’m doing to remember that everything is in a constant state of change anyway, and that regardless of how I live my life today its quite likely to be different tomorrow. Here is yet another opportunity for me to explore the feminine by embracing change and trusting both what is and what will be.

I don’t know how long this time of my life will continue, but I plan to use it deeply to investigate the feminine flow, to remain open to the blossoming of new opportunities, to radiate open heartedness and to, in the words of my brother, “examine the power of whimsy”.

Expansion Through Contraction

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Wed, 30 Apr 2008 00:38:00 +0000

My journey of self-discovery continues to be both a blessing and a challenge. Not long ago I had one those moments of clarity, I call them epiphany’s, when I was feeling wide open. During these times my intuition is in high gear, my heart feels expansive, my vulnerabilities seem small and manageable, the world looks bright and anything is possible.

Sometimes this openness leads me to behavior that I call “overshare”. In my wide open expansion I find myself sharing with the man at the grocery store about the beauty of a kiss and the lady at the coffeehouse about the condition of my heart. During these times of clarity I am feeling open and present and available and vulnerable. I feel more in touch with who I am and what I want. It becomes easy to feel grateful and blessed. I am more alive and connected to the world around me than I could ever imagine. I walk into Sunday morning dance and instantly become one with the music, with the rhythm and with the other dancers. When someone dances up to me I welcome them in. We dance and move and connect and inspire one another. It is a beautiful and broadening experience.

But then something happened. I wasn’t quite sure what. Some sort of shift and the next time I walk into dance the advances of other dancers starts to feel overwhelming. I feel myself begin to withdraw and move away. I retract and dance alone, or leave altogether.

I recently had this experience in a big way. Not just about dance, but about life in general. When I had the opportunity to choose what to do with my weekend, I opted to stay home and hibernate. I choose to stay away from many of my normal social situations that I enjoy, and that typically feed me. I didn’t answer the phone when good friends called, and I opted out of many an invite. I went home and stayed there, ultimately for days. This wasn’t just a simple, “stay at home to rejuvenate” sort of week, this was a “stay away from me, I feel blue and stuck and miserable, I’m afraid and lost and confused” sort of week. This is a reoccurring event for me.

Shortly after my “dark week” I was talking with my daughter, who was in her 9th month of pregnancy. She had begun to have occasional contractions and I was astonished to see her sheer joy in the pain. She lit up when she said, “with each contraction comes an opening, isn’t it amazing that in order to birth new-life a pain-filled contraction is a requirement?”

Suddenly I understood that it is “heart contractions” I am experiencing. Often times the wider the expansion, the stronger the contraction, and the reverse is true as well. It all began to makes sense. As I open and expand, so I must withdraw and contract. It is a requirement of change, it is a requirement of growth, it is a requirement of birth, it is a requirement of breath, it is a requirement of life.

And so, like my daughter, who was feeling OVERLY ready to birth that new babe, I am ready to birth my new being. Now I say “bring it on, I’m ready for whatever my next expansion will bring.”

Transformation

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Wed, 26 Mar 2008 22:35:00 +0000

I have often talked about my own transformations in life in relationship to this same natural wonder. There is another piece of this metamorphasis that is of particular relevance to me. That is the time BETWEEN being a caterpillar and being a butterfly. During this time the creature goes into a state of crystalis and spins itself a cocoon. While deep in the dark protection of its cocoon, the caterpillar becomes a sort of sludge....... DNA sludge to be more specific. It doesn't know what it is, doesn't know what it has been, and doesn't know what its is becoming. It can't crawl, it can't fly, it can't do anything. If you were to cut it open, you wouldn't be able to identify it either, it would just be a pile of muck. There have been times in my life when I feel like that pile of muck. Unsure about anything I think I know, unsure about anything I think I want, and certainly unsure about anything I have thought myself to be. And so, like the caterpillar, I take this time to retreat, go within, "hide out" and most of all be gentle with myself.

I think we need to do the same thing with our world, our culture, our community. We know things are not working as is, we know its not sustainable, we know something has to change. Perhaps it is time we are gentle with our world as well. A time to nurture, to care for, to protect, to love and to allow the next generation of ourselves to be born. It is, afterall, a time of great transformation.

Late Nite Hot Tub

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Mon, 17 Mar 2008 04:41:00 +0000

Dark Night
Bright Moon
Twinkling Stars
Swift Clouds
Feeling Alive
Experiencing Spirit
Knowing we are One
Seeing is Believing
I Believe

A Moment of Oneness

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Mon, 17 Mar 2008 01:37:00 +0000

She walked out of the dance studio covered in sweat. She had danced hard, laughed hard, and loved every minute of the time with her dance buddies. And now the sun was shining brightly and she felt her tummy rumble in the call for lunch.

The normal Sunday routine included many of the dancers meeting at the local market deli for lunch. Typically everyone sat their sweaty bodies in the sunshine and visited. Sometimes they would eat and chat for hours. On this particular Sunday she decided to skip that part of the routine, grab an apple instead, and drive to the nearby mountains to enjoy the last vestiges of snow before spring melted it all away.

The drive was bright and green and curvy. She played the music loud and sang along where she could at the top of her voice. It was the perfect day for a drive, and possibilities in this moment seemed endless.

It wasn’t long before she was cresting of the top of the summit that exposed the breathtaking view of Mt. McLaughlin. The rolling mountains, snowy terrain, open meadows and thick forest seemed to go on for an eternity. As far as the eye could see was open, undeveloped land.

Soon she found the perfect turn out with a trail head leading off into the forest. Grabbing her apple and water bottle she headed out to see what message the land had to offer. As the forest became thicker, the silence became heavier. The breeze in the trees and the occasional screech of a hawk and the crunch of old sloppy snow under her boots were the only sounds, and soon she heard the babble of a creek. As she came upon the creek, she discovered it was a bit more than a creek, but not quite a river. There were large rocks all around, and it was easy to navigate from one shore to the other and back again. In the center of the river was an exceptionally large boulder where she decided to take a break, eat her apple, and listen to the rush of the current.

As she sat on the rock she took the time to notice all the finer details of her surroundings. The mossy boulders, the lichen hanging from the trees, last years leaves that were still around the edges in dark brown moldy clumps, the patches of brown snow and mostly the sound of the rushing water. It was a shallow area where she sat, if she were to step in it would only be about knee deep. But this time of year there would be no stepping in!! She sat on the rock and closed her eyes. She allowed the sound of the water to entirely engulf her. She could feel the wind on her face that the rapid rushing water created, and her body could feel the pull of the water moving quickly down hill. She began to breath deeply. Her practice was to start breathing and focus at her tail bone and inhale all the way up her spine and out the crown of her head. She continued the breathing for a long while. However, it was only a few breaths until she was able to experience the sensation of having her body melt into her surroundings, and experience that feeling of oneness with earth, with water, with Universe and with God. She remained in that state of being for awhile.

Soon she had another sensation, it was the sensation of a larger energy. It was approaching from her back side, it felt soft and gentle and safe. She was instantly curious, but remained focused on her breathing and her connection to earth. The energy seemed to be getting closer and closer. It crept up on her right side and she slowly turned her head to peek. There, at her shoulder height, 6 inches from her face, was the face and dark black eye of a deer. For a moment they made eye contact, she jumped in shock and startled the deer into taking a step away. As she turned slowly to look more closely at this miracle that had appeared she saw the tiny little speckled fawn that had also come up behind her. The three of them sat in astonishment of one another for a moment. She felt a deep sense of understanding and knowing that in her moments of oneness the deer were unaware of her physical presence, as she was unaware of theirs. It was that flash of unexpected physicality that caused them to startle and experience a feeling of separateness. But for just a moment they had all crossed that veil of separation and stepped into Universal consciousness that allows us to sense, feel and experience our world in another dimension, in another texture and in another reality.

With practice, I want to visit this place again.

Grumblings of the Grouchy

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Sat, 01 Mar 2008 15:15:00 +0000

It has been a difficult week…
Fraught with stresses at work, lost documents, deadlines, family members in pain, the passing of a friend, news of dads heart problems, car repossessions (not mine!), broken hearts (not mine!), canceled clients, unrequited love, good friends leaving Ashland (2), sleep disturbances (I'm writing this at 4 a.m.)and general all around heaviness. Now, I’m a relatively optimistic person. I practice mindfulness, I have just written a course for the new Happier Than God book, I enjoy Byron Katie, Richard Moss, Eckart Tolle and all the other new ages authors and philosophies that help me to understand the bigger picture in our sufferings, that help me to live in the present moment, stay out of drama, understand the messages, look for the learning, notice the gratitude, acknowledge the perfection, bless the gift and stay in the flow. I write articles of inspiration and hope to help others find passion, bliss and beauty in their gift of life.

And today I say “F@&K THAT!”

In all of the ideas and philosophies mentioned above I think I have over done it. I have not left space to just feel shitty, and to feel okay about feeling shitty. Space to roll around in my own sorrow and misery, to moan and pout and whine. To stomp my foot, stick out my tongue, be jealous, cry, blame, accuse and generally feel sorry for myself and for the irritated, agitated, provoked, disappointed, frustrated, envious and pissy inner-voice that needs to be heard as well. (and please, don’t tell me I need to do “shadow work”…… my shadow is working just fine!)

While this blog is called “Ramblings of the Divine”, sometimes I want to write one called “Grumblings of the Grouchy.” (I could call it my GOG BLOG for short).

In this new blog there will be rules around writing anything inspirational or helpful. There will be no talk of seeing the perfection, I will not “tease it apart” until I understand it better, there will be no intention to improve, be wiser, attain enlightenment, help others or listen to their problems.

I tried explaining this over dinner last night to a group of friends. And while a couple of my friends nodded their heads in agreement (one even suggested the blog be called “Irkings of the Irreverent”) there was one blank stare from across the table that clearly said, “okay, knock yourself out, I don’t get it”. He was enlightened enough to stay quiet, but I could feel his disagreement and arguments in his head. The ones that say “but you can choose your own experience”, or “choose to be happy, choose to be agitated, where would you rather live?”. Even in his silence I wanted to say “shut the f%#k UP!”.

What I have learned (oops, I can’t even complain without learning) is that I don’t get pissed very well. I don’t stay in that place of agitated or irritated for very long. On one of my worst days last week a friend called and my natural default was that I was so excited to hear his voice I answered with a chipper and cheery voice and he said, “wow, you sound great. Life must be really good.” It was then that I realized “SHIT, I can’t even be in my authentic pissed-offness for more than 10 minutes at a time.” I stuff it and move on, and then it leaks out later at unexpected and unrelated times. I find myself more agitated than usual at the check out stand, in tears for no apparent reason, or I don’t answer the phone when a friend calls because I have no patience.

WTF….. I just wanna be shitty.
Today, that is my practice.

Self-Love and a chuckle

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Sun, 17 Feb 2008 16:31:00 +0000

Loving yourself...does not mean being self-absorbed or narcissistic, or disregarding others. Rather it means welcoming yourself as the most honored guest in your own
heart, a guest worthy of respect, a lovable companion. -Margo Anand

I often do my writing from a coffeehouse. It is one of those sorts of places with overstuffed chairs, the scent of coffee and whispered voices. Last week I sat next to a man and woman who were discussing relationship and love and the dynamic between men and women. She asked the man “are you currently in relationship?”. He humorously answered, “yes, I’m trying a new sort of relationship. I am entering into relationship with myself.” She chuckled and asked “how is that going for you?”. He answered with a smirk……“I’m learning to love me now. Its good, we don’t fight much. Its not too serious, I’m moving soon, and don’t want to start something I can’t finish. We’re keeping it open and talking about it. If he meets someone else, I’ll try to understand. But mostly…….I’m just glad I have a cat”. Hysterical laughter ensued.

I stifled a chuckle, and noticed their conversation had caused me to ask myself, “how much time do I really put into knowing and loving me?” Without sound trite, it is an important question. My father once challenged me that loving myself must mean I am abusing or neglecting others. It seems a common belief that if I spend my time, money, energy or thoughts on myself that somehow someone else will “loose”. I have come to find this is not true. Instead, it appears to be the exact opposite.

In my facilitation of workshops I run an activity called “giving it away”. I call a person to the front of the room and ask them to give me a penny. Sometimes they have one, sometimes they don’t. Either way, eventually they run out of pennies. However, once they run out, instead of no longer asking for a penny, I simply get more demanding, beg, plead or cry for the lack of a penny. The activity demonstrates that you cannot give away what you do not have. No matter how hard they try, or how much they want to give me a penny, they simply do not have one. The same is true in my life: If I do not have self-love, I cannot love someone else completely. If I do not respect myself, it is difficult to respect others. If I do not have compassion for myself, and my human foibles, I do not have true compassion for anyone else.

The reverse is also true. I give much more freely of that which I have an abundance! If pennies were limitless, I’d be able to continually give them without end. And so it goes, if I judge myself harshly, I tend to judge others the same. When I am impatient with myself, I am impatient with others. Or, if I live peacefully, I will unwittingly share peace with those around me.

Self-love is a beautiful cycle where everyone wins. When I love myself, I have more love to give; when those around me receive more love, it is easier for them to love both themselves and others. When there is more love, compassion, understanding and gentleness in my life, there is more in the world. When there is more in the world there will be less disagreements, less fighting, and less war. And so the never ending cycle of expanding, increasing, conscious, powerful love continues, and my self-love actually becomes an invaluable piece of both loving and healing my family, my friends, my community, my nation and, ultimately, my world.

Did you have any idea that self-love could be so globally important?

To see an archive of past Yin Newsletter Articles CLICK HERE

Friends and Connection

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Mon, 19 Nov 2007 06:01:00 +0000

6 hour drive home from the Bay Area... whew, my ass hurts.
It was a wonderful drive, and because it was with one of my very best friends, Thunder, it felt fast and easy. We spoke of love and relationships and intimacy and heart and Rumi and our kids and our work and the new snow on Mt. Shasta, we listened to music, we sang really loud and Thunder tried to nap but I wouldn't let him. We laughed, we cried and we even argued a bit. I learn so much from my friends. I learn about how I want to be, and I learn about how I don't want to be. Mostly I learn that it feels important to make connections. To take time to both listen AND share. Conversations cannot be a one sided endeavor. Closeness requires a sharing from both parties, as well as listening. My experience is that that some find it easier to listen than they do to share. Or perhaps they think what they have to share isn't as important or as adventurous or as interesting. It doesn't really matter, what matters is that I can learn the condition of your heart. That I can be a part of your inner most thoughts, of your heart, of your very being. It is those interior places that allow me access to your deepest self, and that is the You I wish to know. Not the You that is known by everyone, but the You that lies beneath the surface, waiting to be coaxed out into the open, waiting to bask in the light of love, looking to be appreciated and understood. The You of vulnerabilities and self-doubt, the You of wonder and confusion.... not the You that is full of all the right answers, but that piece of You that is always in question, who lives in a state of curiosity, who finds wonder and magic in love and life, including the smallest most apparently insignificant details that makes my life a rich tapestry of color, texture and warmth. It is that tapestry that I wish to wrap myself in, and feel deeply into my bones.

"My life has been a tapestry of rich and royal hue, and ever lasting vision with an ever changing view" ~Carol King

Pakistan and Passions

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Tue, 30 Oct 2007 07:05:00 +0000

I have a dear friend who travels the world to train corporations in "human potential" workshops and long term coaching programs. The stuff he teaches is AMAZING, and the stories of lives changed are PROFOUND. He is excited and inspired by his work, and now he's being sent to Pakistan. The news this week said that Pakistan has now been deemed the most dangerous nation in the world. And the city he is going to a the most dangerous as well. He's committed to going as long as no one stops him. He is sort of questioning himself about going, but I think I know why he's going. I spoke it to my dad:
Yesterday my dad called and we got into our old routine of talking about world events of one sort or another and his stock answer about, "well, we know the only answer is the Lords government anyway, and doesn't this all prove its time that he come and save us all and create a world of peace and perfection, you know there is no other hope anyway, blah, blah, blah". It hit a nerve this time more than usual (probably associated with my current crabby state of mind) and my response was clear, concise and said lovingly:
"While there may be truth to that, I also believe it is my responsibility to do what I can where I can. I cannot sit idly by and wait to be saved, wait for someone else to do the work, wait for something outside of me to change my world. I am called to creating change where I can, to be of service, to put my words into action, to reach out and assist when possible, and influence in the highest way I can." (he then asked if I was voting for Hillary).
Last night I saw a blurb on youtube, Oprah was talking to Letterman and she said, "if we all just did what we could everyone would be served. I may be feeding thousands of children in SA this Christmas (she was responding to his kudos, not self-congratulating), but if you have the ability to have one over for dinner, do it, and then look where else you can make a difference".

So, I know why he is still going. I would too if I were him.

Remembering adventure

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Mon, 29 Oct 2007 03:34:00 +0000

Today I saw grafitti on a dumpster. It said, "with stories of adventure greater than stories you had heard, she came alive". I'm not exactly sure why that sentence struck me as strongly as it did. I've seen the same grafitti every day as I walk home from yoga. But today it said something different to me. Today it spoke of new horizons I've not yet visited. Today it spoke of loves I have not felt. It spoke of flavors I have not tasted, scents I have not inhaled and textures I have not touched. Today it reminded me of my longing for adventure. Those thoughts of far away places and people that keep me moving forward. The projects I create. The opportunities I accept. The twists, turns and unexpected bumps I've experienced along the way. It spoke of shattered dreams and mended hearts. Unexpected gifts, surprises and laughter. I hear in that sentence opportunities to risk, to jump, to fly. Living life awake and full and free. Including paths that converge and then part, people who come into my life and then depart. The ever changing landscape of my life, the perfection of the flow and the acceptance of what is. I am reminded I am a woman of adventure. I am a woman of exploration. I am a woman of movement and trust and fear and anxiety. It is the texture in my life created through the ups and downs, both the planned and unexpected changes, and the knowledge that the variety in it all is what keeps it rich and tasty. This includes the disappointments, disillusionments, and tears. All these things make my life a finely woven tapestry with texture, color, depth and purpose.
I am a woman of adventure, and my stories bring me to life.

Leaves of Change

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Mon, 29 Oct 2007 03:10:00 +0000

I'm noticing that the current change in season is feeling much like the transitional period I am in as well. Yesterday my early morning walk was bright and crisp and blue. The colored trees were literally glowing and the path through the park was lined with softly fallen leaves. It was almost like walking through virgin snow, and in places the leaves were knee high. The creek was coated in leaves, and they were all collected around the edges of the glassy ponds and on the shore among the rocks. The railing on the bridges were covered in the leaves that looked as though they had been perched there for some sort of photograph. Leaves were continuing to fall softly all around me, like snowflakes. I caught a couple young teen-age deer frolicking on the hillside. Chasing each other back and forth in the leaves, trying to bite each others little puff tails. The rock garden where unseen people, or perhaps fairies, balance rocks into stupas was lightly decorated with the leaves, and it was beautiful. The duck pond was like glass and the bright trees reflected fully in the water. There was a silence too, that went along with the fallen leaves and babbling creek that felt deep and full. I could even hear leaves dropping. It was the sort of silence that leaves my head feeling rather empty.

This morning, it was cold and blustery. The same paths that looked quiet and serene yesterday were now full of blowing leaves that were being swept by the wind into piles and stacks. The wind whistled and the trees bent. There was a deep rumbling in the trees and my cheeks burned with the wet cold. It threatened to be drizzly, with that heavy anticipation of a release of rain in the air. The paths were all in movement and transition, and the leaves blew and circled around my feet. Many of the trees that were brilliant yellow yesterday were empty and stark looking today. People walking by were wrapped deeply in scarves and hats and gloves. As I got closer to home the threatening drizzle turned into rain drops, and I was soon wet and cold and the sidewalks were plastered with leaves that looked like they had somehow been glued there. The smell was deep and wet and earthy, and as I walked past a smoking woman I noticed I could feel the texture of the smells and natural composting that was happening beneath my feet. It was a very different day today. I noticed that change is sometimes slow and easy, and sometimes loud and harsh. Either way, I am feeling the change in a variety of ways - this one was very visible, physical and loud.

I too am feeling changed like that. Some of the changes over the course of the last year have been loud and harsh, others have been soft and transitional. What I know is there is a new landscape being created. I may not know what the next season will bring, but like the change of summer into fall, I can trust it is a transition necessary for my health, my wholeness and for my own beautiful landscape.

Bathtubs

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Sat, 27 Oct 2007 19:51:00 +0000

I lust after bathtubs.
And decks.
And windows.
And sunrises…….

And this morning a friend has loaned me his home. He says I can use it any time. He says he likes to share his things with me. He says he means it. I am going to believe him. And so, I’m tucked into his place…

Big king bed with feather comforter and super soft sheets
Windows and the deck facing due east
The sun begin to rise through the windy pine trees
The sky is lighting up
The high clouds are yellow and orange
The blue sky is the color of Wrennas eyes (and I suppose mine too)
The trees gently sway
And I am grateful……

For good friends
Tina Malia
Laptops and wireless internet
Eddie on IM
Re-reading old emails from loved ones
Myspace and the inspiration of others
Silk, flannel lined jammies
Taking a full day in bed
Allowing myself a good funk
And pondering the perfection of it all

Hurray for Change

noreply@blogger.com (Kim) — Thu, 18 Oct 2007 06:40:00 +0000

I've spent the day building my new website with Trevor. I've been bouncing around the office, watching it take shape, and watching the representations of myself stare glaringly back at me from the screen. Can I distill my professional life down into one page? I look at all the pictures, the descriptions, the boxes, the wide range of projects and I think, "I look schizophrenic". I think, "what will my friends think". I read it and re-read it and I think "do I like it?". And I do. I want to fine tune it, I want to change sentences and add to it. I want it to be a living document that grows and changes with me. I do not want it to be a static site. I get hopeful when I wonder what will I add this year? What new projects will get new little boxes and pictures? What boxes will be removed? And mostly, I'm overjoyed that I know it will change and that I will too. To quote India Arie "the only thing constant in the world is change". Thank God.