Swimming in Mystery Soup

Following the depths of winter, we all need a breath of fresh air, to relax into the Winds of Change, allowing it to breathe us--bellow our lungs, in and out, in and out: to blow out what no longer applies; freshen in us what still does, renew what has gone dormant in us from lack of use -- that is circling within us, restless to engage us and our world again.

A long ways back, we separated out from trusting our Intuition, the Voice of Mystery--regarding it as an 'unusual,' -- an 'infrequent visitor," rather than as our Partner. Going off on our own, we've become ever hyper-vigilant, unable, for the most part, to enjoy that which is before us, unfurling. We look at sync--being in alignment with things; synchronicity--things coming together, in the right way, at the right time, in the right place--as rare, uncommon, scarce--undependable. Not so.

It only awaits our invitation. And, usually, we don't--invite it. Instead, we struggle, we strain; we plot, we plan, we scheme, we avoid. Any wonder we're tired, exhausted, off-our beam? Invite it! re-Partner with Mystery--not just a few munches--graze on it, swim in it, soak in it.

The three Muses of Mystery--Intuition, Inspiration and Imagination--the bridge to our Creativity awaits our nod, our invite. Open the door of your mind to it, and  Life starts to work in unexpected, delicious, validating ways--ways never imagined, anticipated . . .

God arrives this planet through our hands, our eyes--our wonder; our intrigue--through self-EXPRESSION; through our answering what shivers us with anticipation, shimmers our souls with possibility. Give it breath. Give it LIFE: try out  "I" words:

Intuit, Inspire, Imagine
Imprint new Impressions onto your awareness
Infuse your possibilities with your Impulses
Interior landscape? You are on the Discovery Channel
Innermost depths--Invest in you and your art; dare
Interest your muse with succulent ideas
Investigate possibilities
Invite your Intuition on a date--
[Let it Introduce you to the rest of your self]
Inflame and quench yearnings
Incite surprise--let it Ignite you
Imbibe the Mystery . . . Tip back your head; drink the rain!

Seachange In the Wind

Frustrating as it can be, sometimes a techno issue is the venue of the unasked being unmasked -- and answered: user delight.

  

This past week, my email, via Smartphone became unavailable, even while remaining accessible online.

A call to my phone company's technical support resolved this techno hiccup -- followed by "Do you have any other questions?"

"Yes! How come I can access my blog [I love and live to blog] through email online, but can't access it through email on my phone?"

Easy fix! A free Google Blog app! This old sea dog learned a happy new trick, fog of frustration revealing stars on the water as I realized I now hold in my hand mobile access to the blog dimension.

Tonight after work, solo flight: speaking delight into Bluetooth, spellbound by words; Writer's wine! Mesmerized, incanting enchantings, seeding implantings -- flights of perception; inception--beginning of conception, birthing a flock of words into flight, words that are themselves pregnant with meaning. I am their mother, Mystery their father.

Sea Shivers & Desert Quivers

March 9th, I departed the  2-1/2 year boot camp of heartland Missouri, returning to the high desert, and once again, only 500 miles from the sea. A time of deep turning within, in Missouri, I learned to drink from an Inner well; graze upon Mystery. Altered  & Altar-ed, I now hoist my sails, catching the winds of these next chapters. Aquiver, snuffling, a wash of intrigue breaking over me, I swim with the UNEXPECTED early return: an unanticipated work opportunity, a restored house-share--and, one more time, a closing sense, on the heels of a successful cross-country move, that "I know nothing; am attached to nothing, trust everything--steady as she goes." 

Even for flexible sorts, not all locales can foster being in resonant residence. Until I departed the West [my sequence of Oregon/Washington, California, Arizona/New Mexico] for the Midwest [Missouri--skipping through Kansas, Oklahoma and Texas], I had never been farther east than Santa Fe--and never knew what it was to be in dissonance with the land under your feet, the air that you're breathing.

Saturated in a soup of spiritual exploration, connecting with others also plumbing their depths--my sense of connection with the earth careened into a down-hill slide: circadian rhythms went askew from night-shift work, emotions flat-lined; my body slipped into allergic malaise. Initially able to prance up three flights of stairs, I faded to half a flight. I struggled, not to inhale air, but to exhale it. In an emerald land of rolling hills and  pockets of dense deciduous forest, I was frozen in winter and sodden with stifling summer humidity. And, from that land of distress, in the pocket of my heart I carry rich new threads in my tapestry, the yet new bonds of friendships just starting to grow as I departed.


We may make peace, for a time, with a place of dissonance--deepening and quickening our intuitive sense, meeting needs of a time that changes the course of our seas; graces us with insights, perceptual powers, a connecting-of-the-dots--that we'd not have arrived had we not gone walk-about--and in which we weren't meant to stay, lest we are too long gone from our motherland, from that which sings in our bones, mirrors the patterns within; mends and restores us.

Life is call and response. Coming up the grade from Tucumcari onto the desert plateau upon approach to Albuquerque, I felt the stars "dropping" into my eyes, mouth and heart from the black velvet sky as a beckoning ivory crescent moon slipped behind the inky black ribbon of mountains on the West. 


On approach to Arizona, I was ambushed by sobs of unprocessed grief at having left. I cried out to the land, "Mother, I'm home." To the Sea, my lover, I whispered, "I am close." Searingly lonely at times in Missouri for desert stars, ocean brine, and my circle of Spirit-Friends, I feel quickened and renewed upon my arrival. And chaos ensues: it takes me awhile to find order--new order in old surroundings, to get my bearings,  to nest, to know whether I'm upside down, or right-side up.


Even as I renew my bond with the desert, the coffee-table book I've been pining, Tall Ships Today, by Nigel Rowe arrives from Amazon.com. I am always sailing a ship--the ship of my life, whether in desert or upon sea.