The day after the election, half of America was in shock, the other half was in glory. In work environments, we’ve been encouraged to not discuss hot topics: politics, religion, and salaries. Therefore, this was minimized, but what did take our attention was the strong Santa Ana winds that prevailed, and the smell of smoke in the air. In and out of sessions with clients, I would hear chatter that the smoke was from fires happening in the outskirts of the nearby Camarillo area. 500 acres were on fire, which quickly jumped to 1000 within the hour. Individuals who lived close to the areas affected were being told to go home and get their valuables and evacuate. Someone said aloud “oh no, my fish.” My work cellphone offered a loud warning to evacuate.
We were encouraged to download an app to get updates of the fire, and see if you were located in the next evacuation target area. I looked at the app, it looked like fires were nearing the local animal shelters, and I worried what would be their fate. It was noted that the animals were brought to a temporary place for safety. My first thoughts were my dog Bella, she was my most valuable thing I owned at the moment. I wrote down on my hand the other necessity items I would need if I had to evacuate quickly: passport, computer, ipads. But that is it. I didn’t pack a getwaway bag, but it passed through my head. My colleagues reminded me I should be okay because I live two miles from the beach, but is anyone ever fully safe?
I thought of all the people who had to evacuate, including my brother’s future mother-in-law and her husband. They recently purchased a home with acres in this targeted area. How were they doing? I observed pictures online of people watching their homes go up in flames. Throughout the day the fire grew to 10,000 acres, not contained. Eventually most of the departments at my job site were to work the remainder of the day from home to be ready for any preparations that may have needed to be made. My 15 year old dog Bella was excited to see me at the house early, and I had to calm her down as I had a therapy session to conduct for the remaining hour. Colleagues sent multiple status updates of their safety.
All the while I thought, “How do we go about our day in a normal manner?” Kids were sent home from school and school was already cancelled for the following day. Cars line the streets, everyone is home waiting for further news. It was eerie walking outside. Bella and I went to grab a coffee, she was itching for a walk along a nearby harbor. A place that was generally full of people of all ages in pairs, getting their steps in with friends or their pets. It was empty, the only other dog walker came out of his home on a boat.
The sky had pastel colors as the orange sun shone through, and I was reminded a friend once told me when the sun looks as beautiful as this the air quality is bad. She was right. The hues were pink and purple, and although one couldn’t tell by the picturesque view, the fire continued to expand.
The morning after when I awoke, it was then 14,000 acres and counting later reaching 20,000 and eventually to a 7% containment. The air now appears clear but smells of an all night bonfire. All we can do now, is send loving kindness to those impacted and the firemen and women helping those in this emergent situation.
I listened to a Metta/Loving Kindness Meditation that morning.
May we be free from suffering
May we be free from internal and external enemies
May we be happy
May we live this life with healthy bodies and happy minds
What is the American dream? And can one still attain this? It seems that some people are still in search for this, and have ventured to the state of Alaska to attain it.
Inflation in the country, has made it difficult for the average person to afford rentals, and further the purchase of homes. But in Alaska a 3 bedroom home is still within reach. Over the first twenty four hours of arriving, we’ve met several people who have moved from different parts of America due to the affordability, opportunity, and promise of something more.
But there is also something else here that exuded… The kindness that emerged from the locals and the transplants, in offering suggestions of delicious cuisine to eat, stunning natural landscapes to witness, and warnings of what one may encounter during one’s visit.
I visited Anchorage Alaska mid-October, during Indigenous people’s weekend. To honor this, the Anchorage museum waived the $25 entrance fee for all visitors. A volunteer greeted us at the door, a young Indigenous female with a painted red hand over her face. I asked to take her photo, she said “I’d rather you not.” I honored her request, remembering that some people believe that if you take their photos, you are taking their souls. The red hand I observed was familiar, but I couldn’t place it. My friend reminded me that this was a symbol to bring awareness of missing and murdered Indigenous women in North America. They are 10 times more likely to be sexually assaulted or murdered than non-indigenous women. To read more https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Red_handprint#:~:text=A%20red%20handprint%2C%20usually%20painted,be%20murdered%20or%20sexually%20assaulted.
As I walked through the museum, I couldn’t help but be stunned by the controversial art pieces on display sharing the indigenous people’s stories throughout generations. Through imagery and storytelling, there were reminders of how the indigenous people were robbed of their heritage, appropriation was used as a platform for consumerism and capitalism, and the necessity of the new generations to discover, embrace, and share their heritage in their own native languages to ensure traditions are carried on. In addition, there was homage to other ethnic groups that make up pockets of Alaska, including Black Americans and Latin Americans.
(Nicholas Galanin: The Imaginary Indian, 2009)
Alaska is a complex entity, becoming the 49th state in 1959, but originally was purchased from Russia in 1867. Then came the Gold Rush, subsequently the search for oil.
It became a powerful place for America to own, “In 1935 General Billy Mitchell said to Congress “I believe that in the future, whoever holds Alaska will hold the world. I think it is the most important strategic place in the world.”
But with this cane the wipe out, erase, capitalize, appropriate the indigenous people and their customs. There were so many mixed feelings being here, that I may need to continue to reflect and chew on. The Anchorage museum held controversial conversational pieces, but what about the remnants diversity throughout the land? From what I explored, in the surrounding areas of Anchorage this was minimal. There are high rates of suicide, alcoholism, and ancestral trauma. And how do we serve and honor all those impacted by generations of colonialism?
There is so much to say about this, and I am aware I am only scratching the surface. But I am reminded, as we visit places even in our own country, it’s important to honor the land and the ancestors of the land, even if you are not a direct descendant. How can you be a responsible tourist and leave more than you take? This can be kindness, conversation, exploration, and discussions when one returns to your own neighborhood of the vastness you experienced. It’s an ever evolving reflection, and the more I travel to further vast corners of the world, the more questions arise. Thank you Alaska for what you shared, and I honor you and all that you contain.
“The unicursal path of the labyrinth is what differentiates it and sets it apart as a spiritual tool. The labyrinth does not engage our thinking minds. It invites our intuitive, pattern-seeking, symbolic mind to come forth. It presents us with only one, but profound, choice. To enter a labyrinth is to choose to walk a spiritual path.” ― Dr. Lauren Artress
Labyrinths often are confused with mazes. At a quick glance, they appear similar. Oftentimes a circular journey that appears to trick us as we walk towards the center. Yet there is one differences. Mazes have multiple options one can talk, a small form of choose your own adventure, filled with false pathways and dead-ends. But labyrinths do not trick us, there is only one way in and out.
Over the years, I’ve wandered through numerous labyrinths, but inside churches, buildings, and in gardens and retreat centers. Yet, the experience at Chartres Cathedral was profound. I had heard once that the labyrinths, particularly in France during the medieval times served as a metaphorical pilgrimage people could take if they did not have the time or physical strength to take the 500 plus mile walk via Camino de Santiago. This contemplative practice offered a piece of the reflection that could occur.
I was reminded that a pilgrimage begins with intention, often when one leaves the home. Last week, as we waited at Gare Montparnesse for our train track to be displayed to Chartres, we witnessed a staff member arguing with her boss. He didn’t seem to be understanding her as her voice elevated, at one point she screamed and hit the floor. Was it a panic attack, stress induced stress or a dramatic act? We couldn’t tell as a handsome passenger who also was a doctor, offered his help. As the fainting woman was sent away in a mini ambulance golf cart, I wondered had the pilgrimage begun. Each component played a part in the day: the heavy bags we carried, a miscommunication with the uber driver, the short but steep distance we walked from the train station to the hotel? A line of police vans drove by and small tents were getting set up. I couldn’t help but wonder what type of celebration was occurring or who was here. We queried our receptionist, who stated simply that someone important was in town. Thoughts immediately went to political importance. When I inquired if it was the president, she nodded her head, not wanting to verbally share who was here but not denying it either.
And so the pilgrimage really did begun. Each persona we met with during the day served as an archetype for the journey: the victim, the doctor, the police, the staff, and the president. We were prompt to arrive at Chartres Cathedral, as we were aware the labyrinth is only open for several hours on Fridays during some parts of the year. But as we walked to the Cathedral, we noticed crowds of students gathered outside and inside. Was it a massive field trip or something else? I later learned it was a photo op with President Macron. We were so in the zone of the moment that we didn’t seem to absorb he was in the Cathedral the same time as us. The labyrinth appeared before us, uncovered from the chairs that usually sit on top of it. I was curious how this labyrinth experience would compare to others I have done in the world.
One is to think of an intention as you enter a labyrinth. And so I did. As I meandered from one side of it to the other I reflected on this intention. Volunteers guarded the labyrinth, from tourists who stumbled unknowingly onto the labyrinth. They ensured that all who would grace the space offered their respect to what lay underneath them. If they were not going to walk it appropriately, they would have to leave the labyrinth and walk around the perimeter. The protector archetype was present, as was the fool, and the student. And as I walked the labyrinth, I would repeat my mantra. Pause. Repeat. Many of us were spread out, but as we entered the final stretch of the labyrinth, there was a bit of a human traffic jam. I wondered if I would feel frustrated with so many people there. Were people taking it seriously or was it just another quick tourist photo op?
But something shifted and changed. I dropped into this sentimental place observing my fellow pilgrims. And then I couldn’t stop crying for the beauty of the moment. This entire day was a metaphor of life. All the characters and interactions, and in the symbolism of this walk we were each headed for a moment in the center. The Chartres labyrinth is special in there are 6 petals in the center, for this particular walk, unspoken rules were created were our specific group. We were all strangers from different parts of the world momentarily gathered to embark on this contemplative tradition. As we walked into the entryway to the center, each of us would step to the left, as the person in the center stepped out. Some people had their hands to their hearts, bellies, both, or even palms open, ready to receive. As the person stood in the center, they faced the altar and infamous stained glass windows. It was as if it was there moment to shine, receive our quiet intentions and prayers, before stepping out. I couldn’t help but compare this specific part to one’s death, offerings, acknowledgement and prayers are made for a moment in time in one’s honor before you step out of the labyrinth.
Each time you walk the labyrinth it’s different but this specific moment will be etched in my mind. It served as a powerful reminder of meeting each part of ourselves on the journey of life. And having a moment of grace before one steps out of their path on earth. What are your stepping into? What are you leaving behind?
And so I challenge you to find a local labyrinth, make one, engage in a finger labyrinth and notice what metaphors arise on the journey.
As I write this, I am at the airport, awaiting my international flight to Paris. It’s my first international trip since I have begun a full time job 9 months ago. Although I’ve had mini holidays the past year, nothing of this extent. I will be gone for ten days. To the old free-spirited wanderluster, this amount of time is nothing, but to the me in a full time job, it’s a lengthy amount of time. There were so many little things that arose last minute to prepare for the weeks leading up to it: confirming with work, clients, fellow staff members, dog sitter, shuttle company, neighbors, family and friends.
I made the final touches to my luggage this morning. As I closed the zipper on my backpack, my Black Madonna keychain broke off. Automatically, it served as a reminder the journey was officially starting. There was no turning back.
Experiences are amplified when you take a long haul trip, and in this there is a realization you have to let go and allow the trip to unfold. Some things may go as planned, some may not. But in a time crunch, you must surrender that the travel guides and gods will protect you on your journey. You will be watched over and it will be what it will be.
There are mysteries that arise on journeys that may not be understood until reflection. Life will go on back home without you, but time will be stretched on your trip. Regardless of how much stress a trip may cause, the experiences gained are generally worth it.
There is an ancient zen myth, which discusses a farmer who has a series of fortunate and unfortunate events that arise throughout his life. Although the farmer does not judge these events, the neighbors do. They are quick to label the events as good luck or bad luck, the farmer always responds with the phrase: “bad luck, good luck, who knows?”
Oftentimes we are quick to judge when things happen if we are having a good or bad day, how the rest of the day will play out. We want to be like the neighbor and label it. But it’s important to not have judgmental thoughts of what is out there. These thoughts can become self-fulfilling prophecies, which is great if things are going well but can be a downward spiral if they are not.
This was the case last week when I awoke. I had a flight from Santa Barbara, I had a leisurely morning waking up an hour later than my usual work day: 545 am. My 15 ½ year old dog Bella was slightly overworked with her cough, I think her psychic abilities knew I was leaving. But I was able to calm her down. We both were relaxed, and I generally don’t check my messages before my spiritual practice is over, but this time I did. My dog sitter sent a message at 5am. She would not be able to be at her home on time, requesting I drop off my dog an hour later. This would have made me a bit late to the airport. It was 645 am. I started to freak out sending her several messages, but opted to call her to see if I could drop her off now. It was then 7am. I got to the house at 710, after a man was honking at me that I was in his parking spot. I reparked the car, yelling “I’m just going to be one minute,” dropped off Bella, and I found out her son would have left the house at 715. I went back home, showered, and went to my pending doctor’s appointment. I realized that since I didn’t have Bella, I didn’t have to run back home and would have an hour to spare in Santa Barbara before needing to get to the airport. Throughout the morning, it flowed like this. Something that could have been bad to something that balanced it out. I understood that life fluctuates like this. It’s not good, nor bad. It is. Could I go with the flow of what the world was giving me without labeling it?
And because I was able to, life continued to offer me the vissisitudes of the day. I could appreciate all that it was. Bad luck, good luck, who knows?
If you want to read a deeper version of the zen myth, check out this link below.
“Nobody escapes being wounded. We are all wounded people, whether physically, emotionally, mentally, or spiritually. The main question is not, ‘How can we hide our wounds?’ so we don’t have to be embarrassed, but ‘How can we put our woundedness in the service of others?’ When our wounds cease to be a source of shame, and become a source of healing, we have become wounded healers.”- Henri Nouwen
Working in the field of mental health today is finally being recognized as a valuable and honorable profession. Yet, at the same time being a therapist for over 20 years has the potential to carry heaviness with it. Like most jobs, some weeks are better than others, and this week was on the more hectic side. The week was full of clients, consultations, meetings, crisis situations, paperwork, and a 30 minute presentation to an audience of over 300 people. As the day ended, I felt exhausted, and wanted to sleep away the weekend. Luckily, my co-worker and I decided to treat ourselves to a sunset sound bath held at Meditation Mount.
I have never gone to this special place, held in the hills in Ojai, a spiritual center that has been active for over 50 years, offering weekly meditations, yoga classes, and other workshops. For the past several years, I have been holding sound baths on a monthly basis whether in the UK, France, Spain, and now California. I have to admit, it’s quite rare that I am able to attend these myself. It’s like a physician who never gets around to going to the doctor. I was so grateful for the opportunity to be a participant, particularly during a stressful week.
The outdoor space was beautiful, held in the hills of Ojai, looking over the rural fields. The sun shined heavily on us, as we laid on yoga mats. Parasols were offered to attendees to strategically minimize the sun’s impact. A family of bunnies looked at us with curiosity, as the sounds melted over us. It took awhile for my mind to wind down, as I tried to let go of the week’s stressors. I tried to turn down the wonder of what instruments were being used and where in the outdoor space were the facilitators at.
As time passed, I noticed my hips getting heavy, tension arising from my first and second chakra. Although I have led an outdoor sound bath, I have never been in one. And as I laid on the grass on top of the Ojai hill, I felt as if the Earth was taking the sorrows and traumas from my body that I had heard throughout the week. My body had served as an instrument during the week, and now it was being cleaned and tuned by the Earth. My mind finally relaxed, and I momentarily fell asleep. I awoke, prior to the end of the sound bath, I felt restored. The week’s heaviness had been lifted, and I could appreciate the sunset that appeared before me.
We packed up our belongings, my fellow therapist friend and I discussed how restorative this sound bath was. Our troubles melted away through the power of sound and the sacred land. There was a realization that as healers, we must frequently care for ourselves as we hold so much of the world’s pain with us in our therapy rooms. I am someone who yearns for restoration through meditation, retreats, and awe experiences. We vowed at a minimum on a monthly basis, to commit to nourishing our souls in places that can support, nourish, and carry us. The healers need to be healed.
Little do we know the impact we make on each other. This was the case yesterday, when I returned home from an event. Generally when I return home, my 15 ½ year old Bella is asleep in her dog bed. It’s a cozy nook that has a good view of the front door and most of the house. But when I came home yesterday, she wasn’t there, I looked next into my bedroom, where I had placed a new dog bed for her. She wasn’t there either. Automatically I worried, don’t pets hide when it is their time to die? Bella was 15 ½ years old, and I worried if her time neared. I was relieved as I entered the guest room and found her in an unusual spot.
Amidst my carry on luggage I had just emptied out, with clothes and yarn sprawled on the floor, she was there, laying on top of it. Wanting to be close to my scent, even though I only left two hours prior. It was such a precious moment, and a reminder how often we take those moments for granted.
Earlier I admit I was disappointed, it was my first sound bath I held that nobody attended. I tried to make the most of it, but couldn’t help but having a chatter of negative thoughts emerge, that I repivoted. When we host events and nobody comes, oftentimes we begin to question numerous things: our advertisement, location, time of day, time of year, our skills, and ourselves. But when I entered my home, all of that was paused as I saw Bella cozy in my atmosphere. In a world that can be harsh, there is a soft landing that reminds us that beings do care.
There is power and beauty in the adage that a dog is a man’s best friend. Through financial ups and downs, moves, job shifts, relationship shifts, weight gains and losses, and fads, it is pets that are our consistency. We take that for granted, but how sweet it is after a difficult day to see that a being is waiting for you and longing to be close to even your scent? It made me pause my heart and send appreciation for the kind gentle soul she is. And a reminder to be appreciative of all beings that are in our lives.
Part of what draws me to towns that are known as “spiritual” is that the inclusivity that is exuded. Years ago I went to Glastonbury England, and what I found fascinating is that on their main street there were stores that had images of Mary, Merlin, and Buddha all rolled into one. On the street you found stores that had sculptures of the Green Man, fairies, a Goddess temple, and so much more. This is the case in Sedona.
Sedona, known as the most beautiful place on Earth, with it’s vortices, new age healers that reside, and tourists yearning to be recharged that flock here. At a store’s checkout, was an image of Yogananda, Jesus, and the Dalai Lama above their register, while another had Jesus, Ganesh, and dreamcatchers. I made a visit to a local shaman’s house for an indigenous healing session, and around the room were images of his Indian guru, Jesus, the Black Madonna and numerous other spiritual items that surrounded him. All were called upon from him and myself to allow the healing to occur through him as the vessel and to me the recipient.
There is comfort for me in places that offer spiritual inclusivity. All are welcome, all forms of worship to higher beings that are self-realized regardless of the country they stem from or the people that worship them. Perhaps you’ve been lucky enough to witness this, and if so, how did it impact you? There’s so much we have to learn from each other, and I embrace all places that embrace all.
This past weekend I offered my first sound private birthday sound healing that was held on a beach. Summer officially started one week ago, the sun was primed to be strong and the clouds minimal. I have never held a sound bath outside in a public space, where you are not in control of the environment. The ocean waved a consistent background beat, but so did the ice cream man who rang his bell as he pushed his cart. Children played with their parents, friends gathered, and the distracting sounds were prominent. I was really curious of how this would work out. Would those in the sound bath hear me? Would they be impacted by the sound? Could they feel my intention? I was curious if other beachgoers would look at me like I was crazy. But it was LA, sound baths have become the new norm.
I was aware that certain instruments would not reverberate in such an open space. The noises I made needed to be loud and movable. The ten attendees were spread out, and I wanted to give them an immersive experience. I ensured I walked to each participant with numerous sound instruments for the hour playing them over and around the body. I walked barefoot in the scorching sand. This could have been an impediment, but I reframed my mind to be in a meditative state to get past the shrieks I initially wanted to let out as I walked from one area to another, my feet seeking solace in the shaded areas that were made available.
I was sweating throughout much of it, and unaware how it was landing. Two attendees got up and looked at their phones. I automatically thought the hour was a flop.
But as we processed as a group, feedback was good. Yes, listening to the instruments was a challenge, but they found it to be a discerning meditative task at hand. One individual who got up and looked at her phone was so energized, she needed to release excess energy. Both opted to capture photos of the session and the group. The birthday girl cried due to gratitude in being able to share this with her friends. Others noted moments of childhood flashbacks, relaxation, and feeling my energy entering the instruments through them. The collective sound bath was a success despite all that I couldn’t control.
As I led the sound bath, I reminded myself certain things are out of my control. It is what it is. Que se ra se ra. What will be will be. We can have the strongest intentions, but things don’t always go as planned. I had prepped to be early, but parking lots were full. My friends unloaded the instruments, set up shop, and had to reset up the spot for the perfect birthday space. Two crystal mallets were lost in the commute. We started late and dragged the numerous instruments back half a mile to the car. But despite the worries, sweats, and strains, it was a success. The birthday girl was able to share her collective sound bath with her closest friends and had a touching moment. This is all I can ask for, and I was grateful I was able to be part of this process. The more I do sound healings, I realize what is asked of me is to clear the vessel, allow the sound to shine through, and let go of all the excess stress and self-critical thoughts that may arise along the way. Keep the vessel clear for the healing to be as pure as possible. Get out of your own way. As with sound, so with life.
It Only Takes A Smile 