Hello dear friends,

Do you ever find yourself re-learning all kinds of things that you thought you really knew?

I want to live in the moment called “kairos,” that is, in “sacred time, THE moment,” rather than in “chronos,” the day-to-day scramble to get more things done in less time, more efficiently.  And I do get those “kairos moments,” as I call them, pretty regularly.  Other phrases describe these experiences, too:  “going with the flow,” “in the Tao,” “timelessness,”  “Flow,” “enoughness.”  It’s the sense, for me, of extreme “all right-ness,” and occurs when I’m painting, when I’m alone in nurturing solitude, or when I’m having a “d & r” — a “deep and real” encounter with a loved one.

Recently, in light of how much I’m enjoying arting, I’ve signed up for a myriad of art journaling courses on-line, and amazon certainly knows by now just what books to suggest to me.  So now I have potentially hours of videos to watch and books to peruse, and it’s so ironic that this abundance in my life has become a source of anxiety as well as the inspiration I was hoping for.  I have the urge to tell dear spouse and dear son to just go away and leave me alone so that I can watch my videos online.  I’ve found myself organizing the downloads efficiently and counting the hours of each, placing them on my to-do lists for the perfect times and days when I’ll most probably be unable to “produce” and will need to just rest.  I worry that I won’t get them viewed before . . . .  before what?  Well, before it’s too late —- whatever that might mean!

I’ve been experiencing deeply my old familiar “I don’t have enough time!!!”

In speaking with an “anam cara,” a “soul friend,” about this, she slowed me down and asked if I’d ever had the experience of being filled up in a certain area of interest or study.  Yes, I had.  She then suggested going within to see what I really need.  Is it really more time daily to pursue these studies?  If so, how much, exactly?  As I settled in, feet on floor grounded, breathing slowed and monkey mind napping, I moved into the “d & r” moment.  The words came to me, “I DO have enough time to do all that I need.  Maybe I’ll actually do all that I have planned, and maybe I won’t, but I DO have enough time to do all that I need.  I have enough.  No worries.”

At the same time that I was experiencing that, my analytic mind was jumping up and down saying “Oh, another cliche, Cat?  Do you always think in cliches?  So how much truth do you think there is in a cliche, eh?  As if you don’t know this already!  Can’t you come up with something more original?”

And then another voice in my mind, a much calmer one, added “It’s okay.  It’s okay.”

“Oh, that’s just another cliche!”

The calm voice just laughed a bit, and I remembered how many, many times these mental conversations have occurred.  How many years does it take to deeply incorporate what I already know?  Well, I guess that’s why it’s called “practice.”  And instead of feeling badly about these repeated conversations, I actually felt rather kindly toward my inner voices.

Too often I find myself fantasizing about how much I could do if I had just one extra hour of productivity a day.  Then the other day a dear friend wrote in her blog about how much she wished she had more time to do all the wonderful things she wanted to do.  It was an “aha!” moment for me, as this friend is an extremely energetic and generous woman whom I had been envying for the “so many more hours” of time that it seems she has to do what she wanted and/or felt called to do.  This friendship has an added poignancy in that she has dealt with aggressive breast cancer this year.  I witnessed her growing weaker, sicker, and more fatigued as her treatment progressed, and her slowly coming back to health and energy.  It seemed to me that when she was at her worst, she had finally slowed down enough for me to keep up with her, energy-wise.  While I have rejoiced as she has recovered, I have also longed to “recover” more energy and health, myself.

My “aha!” was that if this energetic woman had so many things to do that she wished for more time in the day, then even if I had another hour or three in the day I would find worthy and wonderful things to completely fill them, and I would most probably keep wishing for more time, too.  That could become a neverending cycle! I didn’t want that.  It’s not actually more hours that I need, but more moments of that timelessness that I love.

Most of us don’t really need more; mostly, we need “deeper.”

Dear friends, how do you deal with these sorts of things?  Do you, too, long to go “deeper”?  Do you find it easy to do so?  I’d love to hear what you have to say.

With much love,

Cat

from my journal, Oct. 13

Hello dear friends,

There are many strands of thought tangled up within me.  First of all, with regard to the dealing with challenges theme of my blog, let me tell you of last night and good intentions.  For the past few days I’ve been feeling pretty good  — the nights are another story, but let’s stay with the days here — and I intended to publish a blog post last night, with the ideas simmering throughout the day.  Then, as night fell, so did how I felt physically.  I was just in too much pain to be able to write last night.  This needing to give up my plans is still so hard for me to accept with any grace.  What I need to do is to craft a life where there are few if any deadlines, and to accept the changes in how I’m physically feeling as we accept changes in the weather.  As in, “it’s just weather, man. . . . it’ll pass. . . . ”

Alas, I am not yet that accepting, even after years of practice.  (I wanna do what I wanna do, and I wanna do it NOW!!!)  Sigh.

Let me tell you about the photo above of a painting I did in my journal.  It’s from a meditation where I prompted myself with “I will go up to a bowl filled with water, and see what I shall see. . . . ”  I settled myself, relaxed, and set my intention that my meditation be healing, helpful, holy.  “Healing, helpful, and holy” are words of Dr. Estes, who calls this type of meditation trance work, a way of working that can access parts of our psyche that we don’t use in day to day consensual reality.

What I saw in my mind’s eye was a golden bowl on a small wooden stand.  All around me it was deep, deep blue.  As I looked into the bowl, the water slowly shifted in color from greyish gold to a lovely blue, and her face appeared.  She was so old and so beautiful, much more so than my painting reflects.  After looking at her smiling at me for awhile, I heard her say “I am always here for you . . . I am always with you.”

So.  For all of you who might say, “Well, you just made all that up!”  I answer, “Of course.”  This is a vision that is already within me, that my meditation and readiness allowed me to “see” and “hear” in a way that I can understand and that is helpful to me in my day to day life.   And yes, I also think that it came from outside of me, to the extent that all of us are connected in some way with all that is.  I understand it as a type of waking dream.

So what does it mean?  For me, I’m taking it mean (“making meaning, making soul”) that there is within/around me an older, wise woman archetype, perhaps a symbol of the divine in feminine form, a helpful, far-seeing, compassionate being who is always available to comfort and encourage me.  That by receiving her compassion I can be strengthened to myself be more compassionate to those around me.   And, that it is good and helpful for me to do what I need to do to remember these qualities that are both already within me and are in potential for me.  In order to remember these things, I need to step into moments of timelessness regularly, and not get into too heavy a relationship with my to-do lists and the stimulation of checking off just one more thing!

May she say similar things to you, in ways that are immediately recognizable and helpful.

With warmth,

Cat

A very short update to you:  Remember when I said I had a biopsy done for an enlarged lymph gland?  Well, found out today that it came back BENIGN. A lovely word!

It was a big day, taking my son to the university for a half-day event, which means walking about three times as much as I usually do, even for a day when I exercise.  Then I developed a migraine and sick tummy, worsened by taking Liberty home, and then going to the hospital for my appointment.

After everything, I came home and collapsed.  Slept for 2 hours.  Still feel like a truck ran over me.  Some days are like this.  Even ones with GOOD NEWS in them.

Blessings to you, and to me!

Cat

Hello dear ones,

We all come from different histories; perhaps this song isn’t your story.

HOWEVER . . . . . REMEMBER: You’ve only begun to shine!  We’re waiting to see you in your fullness of your unique self!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GgiZz-aqheU&feature=youtu.be

With love,

Cat

The photo is one of my early paintings:  “Listening for the Golden Visions.”

Dear friends,

As you have seen in some of my photos, I HAVE STARTED PAINTING. . . . AND. . . ART JOURNALING. . . AND I LOVE LOVE LOVE IT!

The “cut to the chase story” is: I started painting in January of this year, and soon after, began art journaling.  I can’t begin to put into words how much this has been a wonderful surprise gift in my life.

The “story with the juicy details in it” is:  Around Solstice/Christmas time of last year I began to realize that I was starting into a depression.  Nothing was too serious, yet, but I felt strongly that I needed to do something to. .. . to what? I wondered.  Sitting with it some more brought me the words “I need some colour in my life.”  Well, I didn’t know what that meant.  My days were already full; I don’t like to travel because most of the time it’s just too much trouble considering my health and all the planning that has to go into it;  I already had some very good friends that I didn’t have time enough to see as much as I liked.  The biggest thing was that I really didn’t have the energy to “go out there and make something happen”.

Then “out of the blue” (does this ever happen to you?), totally unconnected with the thoughts of beginning to sink into depression, I remembered a woman, an artist, who had been to two of the Mysterium trainings I had been at.  The trainings, by Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes, are for “helping professionals,”, and have been held each summer for the past 3 years. They have been HUGE blessings in my life.

So I googled my colleague, curious to see if she had a website.  And DID she! Shiloh Sophia McCloud is an amazing, visionary artist, and entrepreneur.  One of her on-line offerings is a year long course called the Red Madonna.  In it, (totally summarizing here), each month she teaches through a series of videos how to paint a particular holy woman, while her mother, a writer, encourages the members to write a poem or prayer about the holy woman and how she exemplifies one of the Sephira from the Jewish Tree of Life teachings.  It is geared towards both artists and non-artists alike — or shall I say, “not-yet-artists”?

I couldn’t forget about the Red Madonna program.  I tried to, as I didn’t feel I had time to start some new project.  But I kept going back to the website, figuring out if I could do it somehow.  One thing led to another and here we are on month 10 of the Red Madonna:  Tree of Life, and I have 9 or 10 paintings I’ve completed.   I had NEVER painted before.  I mean, not even as a little kid do I EVER remember painting anything!  I had taken piano lessons, nothing about art.

Not too long after that I began art journaling through on-line classes with Effy Wild.  Both artists, like me, have a commitment to exploring the inner life of spirituality or the depth dimension.

I didn’t sink into depression this year.  In fact, it’s been one of the happiest years I’ve had.  Maybe art really does save lives.

I’m not technically proficient, but that’s never been a primary goal.  As I’ve said in a previous post, I find that my inner symbolism has a new language with which to express itself, and I find that exciting and deeply satisfying.  My intention is to include photos of my work with my posts, and sometimes tell you about the symbolism.  For example (briefly), in “Listening for the Golden Visions” I’ve included a spiral at the “third eye” chakra, the locus of the inner eye, and an “egg” necklace of possibilities at the throat chakra, the source of my voice in the world.  I find crows and ravens to be messengers and reminders of the Sacred Mystery within life, so she’s also listening to what the raven might tell her.  There are seven roses; roses are my symbol of mysteries unfolding, and seven is an ancient sacred number which alludes to many meanings throughout history.

What I can also tell you is that while it’s often quite challenging to find and to take the time to art, I either don’t have pain while I’m arting, or don’t notice the pain. That’s WONDERFUL!  And I love these side effects:  journals of images and a wall of canvases.

Do you have a satisfying way to art?  Has it helped you in any particular way?  Is it difficult to take the time to actually do it?

With love,

Cat

I’ve been asked to share the poem that was in last post’s photo.  It’s by Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes:

Pick up the pen already

and put it to the page and stop whining.

Write.

Pick up the brush

and be mean to yourself for a change,

paint.

Dancers, put on the loose chemise,

tie the ribbons in your hair,

at your waist, or on your ankles

and tell the body to take it from there.

Dance.

Actress, playwright, poet, musician,

or any other.

Generally, just stop talking,

Don’t say one more word

unless you’re a singer.

Shut yourself in a room with ceiling

or in a clearing under the sky.

Do your art.

Generally,

a thing cannot freeze if it is moving.

 So move.

Keep moving.

Now, Cat here again:  Are you doing your art?  Are you finding moments of timelessness, transcendence, exhilaration?  If not, do you really have to make another 20 minute trip to the grocery store?  Paint, instead.  Go ahead and be really mean to yourself, as CPE says.

If I promise not to stop at Michael’s to use another 40% off coupon this week, and write or art instead, will you promise to do whatever you need to  do, just for 20 minutes a day?

Okay?  Okay.  It’s a deal!

With warmth and blessings,

Cat

(image from my journal)

Hello dear friends,

In my post to you last week I forgot to tell you of two somewhat momentous events that occurred during my “pilgrimage” to learn from CPE, that is,  Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes.  One is quite wonderful, the other, not wonderful at all.

The “not wonderful at all” event was seriously spraining my wrist the first night in Colorado.  I was sitting in my motel room, leaning over to reach for something, when I lost my balance.  I was tired and out of my physical comfort zone.  I’m learning that that combination is risky for me and I need to exercise extra caution at those times.  Alas, I fell, all my weight landing on my hand, wrist, and arm.  As I lay there on the floor, my whole right arm pulsating with pain and visibly swelling, I thought I might have just broken my wrist.  Of my writing arm.  On the day before a 5-day writing intensive.  That I had looked forward to for at least six months.

I slowly got myself into a sitting position — not an easy act with my go-to arm out of service.  Then, after another 10 minutes, sort of climbed up the wall to a standing position.  Then I sat down for an hour and figured out what to do.  Fortunately, I had already gotten ice, so immediately got some onto my hand and wrist, now twice their normal size.  Anti-inflammatory and pain medication followed.  (Did I mention that I travel with a mini-pharmacy?)  Prayer and relaxation exercises calmed my trembling.

It seemed that nothing was broken, as I could move my wrist and fingers well enough, if painfully.  With a trip to the nearby Walgreens I was able to wrap it up in a stretchy bandage, which helped with both the swelling and the pain.  (Picture the almost surreal scene with the check-out person over whether I could tear the bandage with my teeth, or if I’d need to also purchase scissors which I’d only use for a week, as I could not bring them back home on the airplane. I bought the wrapping tape, opened it at the counter, and proceeded to chew a length off of it — using only one hand, of course.)

Throughout the week my arm turned colors that matched my black, blue, and purple wardrobe, yet I still took 44 pages of notes with my purple fingers.  Yes!  Notes for a second harvest of what I was learning!

And I totally forgot about all this when I wrote my last post!  Why do we forget these kinds of things?  I think it’s because when there are so many chronic challenges, one more thing feels almost unremarkable.  Already practically overwhelmed with the challenges, extra pain, and the unexpecteds of travel, one more thing is just subsumed under the psychic category of “things I have to balance, attend to, manage, and cope with.”  And, I’d really rather focus on the neat stuff, like new learning and wonderful people.

But this ignoring of the “one more thing” continues to have repercussions:  I finally needed to see the doctor, twice, since I’ve gotten home, as the nerve seems to have been bruised and it’s wreaking havoc with alternating tingling and numbness.  Yet even that has taken second notice to the mammogram last Monday.  I got the dreaded phone call to come back the next day for an ultrasound, and the really dreaded phone call early the next morning from my doctor’s office saying I needed to come in to discuss the results.  That day.  Gulp.

Fortunately, though I’ll be getting a biopsy on Friday, it’s more than a 90% chance that it’s just a lymph node that didn’t shrink after an infection.  That makes sense and fits with my history.  Yet I find myself still magically hoping that because I already have more than my share of health problems, it should somehow make me immune to other things, like cancer.  Moments like these remind me that the question shouldn’t be “why me?” but “why NOT me?”  What’s so special (and immune) about me?  I’m just another person, weak and vulnerable to the human condition.

But I’m also oh, so very, very strong.  Hey, I can forget about a bruised nerve and a sprained wrist!  Seriously, though, what we choose to focus on can deeply impact our experience of daily life.  I want to focus on all the neat stuff — and thereby recognize the really amazing, privileged, rich life I live in the midst of the oh so human travail.  Five trips to the clinic this week have been exhausting; those were also five trips in which I had the good fortune to experience caring and competent health care, care that is still out of reach of so many in the world today.

And the wonderful momentous event?  I won one of only two prizes in a lottery at the CPE event, a lottery benefiting Dr. E’s Guadalupe Foundation which supports literacy projects, especially for women.  I won a package consisting of a rare 1995 edition of Women Who Run with the Wolves, a truly beautiful book with embossed cover and signed (of course) by the author, a copy of CPE’s book The Gift of Story, a 6 CD set of her The Power of the Crone, 2 cards designed by Dr. E, and a tote bag that displays her quote “Friendly . . . but not tame.”  Truly, it all made me smile!  I was so excited to win!  AND, on top of it all, it will be a multiple win:  since I already own all of those treasures, I’ll be gifting these extra copies to others, along with the story that goes with them.  Happy day!