Lightwork Archives -

Bring in the Light

By Simone Lipscomb | December 22, 2013

I awakened this morning thinking of the Solstice…yesterday’s Solstice. Geez…I didn’t even mark the event, I thought but then quickly realized that I had climbed 177 steps toward the light in a tight spiral. Upwards I climbed with my daughter and son-in-law until we were almost inside the many-prismed glass sculpture that housed the light of the Pensacola Lighthouse.

We had just visited the Naval Aviation Museum with my mom and decided to stop at the lighthouse and make the climb. Mom waited for us in the gift shop as we made our way up and up, winding tighter circles in the brick structure built in 1859. The wrought iron steps were chilly on my bare feet as I abided by the climbing rules and carried my flip flops rather than risk tripping on the steep stairway.

As we climbed I thought of the lighthouse keepers from years past whose jobs were vital to the safety of those traveling by ships. Before there was GPS, LORAN and other modern navigation tools, there were only charts, stars, sextants and lighthouses to keep sailors on course. The lights were illuminated by a lamp fueled with oil or kerosene instead of electricity. The rotating element was introduced in 1790’s houses and the Argand parabolic reflector system introduced in the early 1800’s. Electricity and carbide or acetylene gas began replacing kerosence around the turn of the 20th century. At that time the lamp could be automatically lit at nightfall and extinguished at dawn, eliminating the need for a keeper to climb the stairs carrying fuel and tending it during the long hours of the night.

I tried to imagine how gallons of fuel might have been carried up the steep, tight stairway and marveled at the dedication required for those keepers all over the world whose job it was to bring light to all who needed it. As I reflect on the Solstice and the season of light, I ask this question: Are we any less in need of Light today?

Walking through the Naval Aviation Museum I noticed the machines of war…planes, aircraft carriers, markings on the sides of ships and planes denoting how many enemy planes, ships and other targets were destroyed. I felt such sadness that through the long history of humanity we still have not evolved beyond war. Success is still measured by some people and governments by the number of enemies we destroy. We continue to live based in fear. Fear that if we don’t destroy others, we will be destroyed.

In the spiritual tradition in which I was raised, I learned that Light entered the world through the birth of a man, a messiah, a Light that taught us to move from the Old Testament ways of an eye-for-an-eye to lives lived with compassion and love. But I ask….where is love when decisions in our lives are based only in fear, in retaliation, in one-upping, and taking out (in one way or other) those who don’t believe like we do…dress like we do….worship like we do…look like we do.

By making the commitment to climb steadily toward the Light we reach greater understanding by seeing from a higher perspective. No longer operating from fear, we are able to see with new eyes, with open hearts.

We have spent far too long living with the mind-set of fear. Now is the time to bring in the Light.

Light Along the Path

By Simone Lipscomb | June 18, 2013

Trying to define what I do for a new business card has been challenging. In my spiritual path I am constantly going deeper to discover more about myself and the path of service I have chosen…the path that has called me. But it doesn’t mean I know what the heck I’m doing. Not really.

Funny as it may sound it feels as if the past several years have been a game of Blindman’s Bluff. I ask for guidance, listen, clear out inner debris, listen more, have flashes of inspiration, get a little glimpse but continue walking with just glimmers of lights illuminating the way.

Determined to not only listen but to hear clearly, the steps taken are small. Sometimes its as if I’m treading water in a darkened ocean with starlight the only source of illumination. Support is there and I can float if I need to rest but there are times when I really want answers. Direction!

In my quest to find a name for my work I stumbled upon a website that made me light up with excitement and I found myself crying, “YES, YES, YES!” I shared links on Facebook and Twitter and emailed myself a copy of an article written by the author of a book and website. Finally I linked to the book because I knew it would be an awesome tool for the work in which I find myself immersed.

Spiritual Ecology….OH! The book I ordered before it was printed which just arrived last week! The book sitting on my bedside chest. When I discovered that this book was already in my home, awaiting my attention I laughed and knew that something big is clicking into place within me and others on the planet.

There has been a lot of hopelessness of late with endless lists of sins against the planet and even against those who protect it.But this treasure discovered today gives me hope. The light along my path just got brighter. I cherish these moments and for the reminder that support is present, the path is unfolding and all is not lost on our beautiful water planet.

Turning Point

By Simone Lipscomb | May 11, 2013

The dark, heavy energy has shifted. I’ve been sitting on my back porch listening to the rain, listening to distant thunder over the Gulf and to wind chimes slowly moving in the slight breeze, their deep tones filling the courtyard with celestial music and serving as background sound to drops splatting and thumping on the metal roof. Frogs sing occasionally, adding their baritone to the soprano whistles and trills of birds darting to and fro.

In the distance, the sounds of children laughing and playing in the rain provide nurturance to the joy taking root within the dark recesses in me that have stored grief over bad new– environmental reports this week that seemed endless. Swinging in my hammock chair with my buddy Stanley Kubrick purring contentedly on my lap, I realized that I have ridden the wave of grief to the other side.

A spark of light ignited this shift. A favorite musician posted yesterday on his FaceBook page, “So happy to be playing music. There is no finer place on earth today than Oklahoma.” Ben Taylor’s post planted a seed of light. I nurtured it by having a session of Thai Yoga yesterday afternoon that helped stretch me out of my funk. Then the morning of rain and gentleness helped me grow the light seed and expand it like a candle igniting a thousand inner lamps.

Being present in the moment and happy to be doing something I love to do is something to celebrate. Finding joy within a storm of bad environmental news gives me a stronger foundation from which to work and helps me gain footing on the Path so I can take the next step in my work. With my inner lamps rekindled I move forward with joy, in celebration of this beautiful water planet.

Stanley Kubrick and I celebrated this delicious, rainy, soft morning by dancing on the back porch while listening to Jolly Holiday. “Ain’t it a glorious day? Right as a mornin’ in May, I feel like I could fly….When the day is gray and ordinary, <Stanley> makes the sun shine bright!”

Staying present with grief, with joy…with beauty. It’s all part of this turning point in which we find ourselves on our Earthly planet.

Breadcrumbs for Myself

By Simone Lipscomb | April 11, 2013

Today I was sorting a pile of stuff in a wooden tray on my desk and found several little slips of paper with ideas scribbled hurriedly, inspiration run amok. I do that quite often when I am concentrating on something else and inspiration hits. Rather than lose it I jot it down and ‘file’ it in my to-do box. And these little pieces of paper sift through the stack and end up at the bottom until they are excavated by a mad fit of cleaning.

Yesterday I started reading a book called, Beautiful Whale. It is the story of Bryant Austin who was touched (literally) by a enormous whale with her pectoral flipper (a 15 foot long, two ton flipper) on his shoulder during an intensely life-changing moment. He tells how he vowed then to photograph whales and create life-size prints of them to help raise awareness of their beauty and value. This meant getting very close to them to capture details that are impossible to capture in photographs underwater from a distance. It also meant building computers that could handle the file sizes. And selling everything he owned to make this happen.

As I read Bryant’s story and viewed the amazing photographs in this very over-sized book, I felt so humbled by his dedication. And I found myself evaluating my own journey and feeling off course a bit…as if I’m not really giving my full attention to my task…whatever it is. And so I felt frustration. What am I doing?

One treasure I found this afternoon while sorting through the pile on my desk was written in early January. “If I truly viewed this Earth as the Kingdom of God, would I not drop everything to document this place of wonder? This is my path, my journey for the next year–to fully immerse myself in the beauty and joy of this place we call Earth!” BAM!

A direct answer to my frustration last evening. And another, more recent, scrap of paper was something my mother included in my birthday card. It was a short piece on the earth being the Kingdom of God and how we are stewards and caretakers. When I get the same message two or three times in such a short time I pay attention. Einstein said coincidences are God’s way of remaining anonymous.

The little notes I write to my future self surface exactly when I most need them. They serve as breadcrumbs along the path that nurture me when I find myself needing sustenance for my dreams and ideas.

Communion

By Simone Lipscomb | January 30, 2013

Curious about the SUP board, the juvenile says hello.

It is no secret to anyone who knows me that my best friends are finned or flippered, feathered or furred. My heart is touched by an encounter with wild dolphins or a gentle nuzzle of a manatee in ways that surpass any human connection. Maybe that’s why men I’ve shared my life with have moved on…never content to come second after my love of wild animals. Connection with all creatures wild is my Communion, a way to rise above the mundane and connect deeper, more fully with beings more evolved than humans. (Personal bias).

Today I received an early-morning call from a friend and she tearfully expressed her love of the woods surrounding her home was about to be logged, destroyed so the landowner could purchase a vehicle for his son. How can you put a price like that on a sacred woodland? When will humans learn that the planet is not a commodity to be pillaged, a land to rape for spoils but rather a sacred cathedral?

The mentality of profit at any cost is not a luxury we can afford any longer.

Joanna Macy’s teachings come to mind. She explains the necessary evolution from a life-taking society to a life-sustaining society. We are in a time of moving from a profit-at-any-cost world to a life-sustaining world. We are in the middle of the dissolution of the old way and are awakening to the reality of the mess we’re in economically, socially, environmentally. And within the mess, within the reality of how we have treated the planet and each other, we find positive change occurring. Many, many people are choosing to act from a place of responsibility, a place of compassion and love. We are waking up to the idea that it is possible to live in balance with respect for all life.

Wildlife reminds me of the connection we have to the whole. The manatees scarred by propellers remind me that humans still have a huge impact on fragile species, that we have done great harm to our planet. And when I see volunteers paddling their kayaks, overseeing interactions with these gentle beings and acting as protectors, hope is refueled.

While snorkeling recently, a juvenile manatee came to me and demanded my attention. My goal is passive observation, in or out of the water, but while filming them, one insisted on connecting face-to-face and drew me out from behind the camera. He swam in front of me, stopped and I felt his gentle spirit guiding me to remove the camera from between us and commune, one wild heart to another. I gently placed my hand aside his face and channeled as much love as I could to him and his kind. And I listened in silence to him.

In those moments we were one with each other. There was no me, no him. In that neutral stillness was birthed understanding. Deep, profound understanding.

As we parted, sobs wracked my body and soul for the trust demonstrated by a species so abused and wounded by humans. The future of this planet is in our hands. That is both frightening and empowering. What will we do to create a better world? Will we do anything?

It can start with daily communion with the natural world. Let it show us our next step each day.

He checked out my dry suit, my fins, my snorkel, my camera...always learning more about humans, these little ones. — He checked out my dry suit, my fins, my snorkel, my camera…always learning more about humans, these little ones.