Category: Lightwork

In Ways I Can’t Explain*

In Ways I Can’t Explain*

By |

A few years ago I stood on this hill overlooking the Atlantic Ocean and felt my bones vibrate with resonance of the land. For the first time in my life, I felt I belonged in a way I’ve never belonged to any other place on the planet. I was in Devon, England.

Later that week, a beautiful elder of the area told me the Lipscomb’s (Lypscombe) were from Devon. When I returned home I looked up a family history cousins had compiled and found that Ambrose Lypscombe was from the Devonshire line and lived in Silverton, England. He was born in 1610. His son, Ambrose I, arrived in Virginia around 1668 (called New Kent County). And the lineage progressed forward through the years as my ancestors found their way to the Alabama coast.

As I prepare to move away from the mountain that overlooks this beautiful valley, I have reconnected with my intense love of the land here. As I was approaching this area on my morning walk a few days ago, a new song I had downloaded started playing on my iPhone and suddenly everything made sense. David Wilcox sings about wanting to go to Ireland and his lyric made me stop and breathe in the significance, *”My heart is here in ways I can’t explain.”

I have pondered the deep connection I have to the Blue Ridge Mountains and the Alabama Coast. I love both places dearly and completely. I feel torn with my love of the sea and my love of the mountains.

When I thought back to my visit to Devon and Cornwall I realized that the ancestral link I have to the coast of western England is strong in my blood, in my DNA. The seashore of Alabama I love so well and the mountains of North Carolina are two similar aspects of a very significant place where my dad’s family originated. With the Wilcox song, everything clicked and I had a rather large ah-ha moment.

Understanding a bit more of my heritage gives me insight into my path now, specifically about the move south. I spent my entire childhood, teenage and young adult years wanting to get ‘back’ to the mountains. After finally moving ‘back’ I met people that provided assistance as I developed important tools for my life’s work. It was as if we arranged, before birth, to meet up on this mountain and catalyze ideas and skills. And now, I am better prepared to move forward with contributions I came to make.

The chances of me moving to England to live are rather slim; however, the inspiration it provides and the fire of love for the sea and mountains create within me the devotion necessary to commit fully to this Path I have chosen to walk.

We all make choices about how to invest our energy and talents. As I move forward in this life’s journey, my intention is to utilize the skills I have to help create positive change for life on this beautiful, water planet. I embrace the gifts the mountains and friends here have supported and helped cultivate within me and with gratitude take the leap back to the sea. I allow the ocean of life to carry me.

Lyrics from David Wilcox Ireland and Let the Wave Say:

I’ll speak the words of poets gone: my music’s ancestry
We’ll hear the voice of Ireland in the wind beside the sea
In waves of music far as I can see
The voice of every poet singing free:
Singing bring your orphan children home–to me
(from Ireland)

And the high blue wall can break you
You can never fight the sea
You just learn to let it take you
To the place you want to be (from Let the Wave Say)

I am ready to ride the wave back home. (Thanks David for the music…and wisdom!)

Teachings from a Christmas Tree

Teachings from a Christmas Tree

By |

The first thing I remember is swirling stars and crisp autumn nights. In human years I know not how long ago I was planted on the mountainside. I remember waking up in the chilly air and realizing the magnificent forest of my brothers and sisters around me covering the hills.

I felt my friends being planted alongside me. We communicated through our roots and branches as they swayed in the fresh breezes. It felt good to sink my roots into Earth. Such warmth and joy I felt as Earth’s energy coursed through my being. I tingled with excitement.

My first night, my roots already working deeper into the soil, I could stretch taller. Oh, I wanted so desperately to touch the stars, to feel their sparkle on my green fingers.

The first snow felt so wonderful. Cold it was but it blanketed me and somehow it felt right, as if this was where I belonged. And so I flourished and sang my life song with the wind and rain, stars and snow. And I heard the music of the heavens. So sweet was it in answer to the deep, resounding heart beat of Earth. The music of the spheres filled my days and nights, but especially at night could I hear it…when everything else got quiet.

So was my life until one day I saw humans, some very small, running up the path to the big trees in the neighboring field. The small ones ran and played among branches and some came over to me and started making human sounds…”Baby trees….aren’t they cute….want a bigger tree.”

I didn’t know what they meant but suddenly a loud sound erupted and I heard a big tree moan as it fell. “What happened?” I asked my friends but they didn’t know. Softly, as we listened closely, a message was passed to us from bigger trees. They said they would share the secret of our power. That captured my curiosity so I listened and this is what I heard:

“You are born for a very special purpose. You were planted on this beautiful mountainside and you grow and take in Earth’s love and care, starlight’s magic, rain’s cleansing power, wind’s song, and the passion and fire of the sun. These elements build in you and grow as you grow. Then, when the time is right, you are taken and put in a home and decorated with lights like stars and shiny things that are most wondrous. And as you stand tall in your best splendor, you slowly die. But as you do you give off your life force and all the energy of stars, sun, Earth, rain and wind that you took in is released into the human home, and maybe into the human hearts. You are a blessing and remind the people who take you, of the light and love available to them.”

It sounded wonderful yet questions bubbled up through my sap. Would it hurt? Wouldn’t I miss the mountains and birds and sun and snow?

But there was only silence.

And so I let it go and simply observed it all. Seasons of warm and cold came and went and I witnessed it all.

As I grew, every year people would come and look at me and touch me but passed me by. I wondered if I would ever fulfill my destiny.

And then one beautiful, sunny, crisp day, two people walked among our section of the mountain. One touched me and I shivered. “Take me, take me! I am ready!” They walked on. But after a while she came back and touched my strong trunk and placed her warm hand around it and I felt the most amazing sensation flow into me. I heard her words, “Thankful…grateful…welcome…I love you.”

And then I heard the saw motor and for a moment it hurt and I shivered from pain. But as I began to fall, I let go and thought, “Oh–now is my time, my purpose will be fulfilled.” And such joy I had never known.

I was wrapped tight and laid on top of a fast-moving thing and before long I was standing in water, drinking deeply for I was very thirsty. I was placed in a huge room with big windows where I can look out over the mountains.

I have sparkling white stars resting on my branches and beautiful shiny things adorning me. There are all manner of special things hanging from my branches and they feel full of memories from long ago and I hear their stories.I have heard beautiful music and singing and although it’s different than the music of the spheres, it is quite lovely. And now, it is dark outside and the woman sits below me writing down my story so others can know what I know, what I’ve learned from being a tree–a tree destined to be a magnificent Christmas tree. And so my purpose is fulfilled. And I am happy.

To learn more about my work please visit Turtle Island Adventures. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays! May we continue to learn from all that nature teaches us.

Gratitude for a Sense of Place

Gratitude for a Sense of Place

By |

It took me a while to make the decision to leave the Blue Ridge Mountains but when I did my compass pointed south, or specifically– southwest. The live oak trees draped with Spanish moss whisper my name as the wind rattles their waxy, hard leaves against each other. The smell of coastal Alabama soil, that sandy loam, lies waiting for me to come home, to walk barefoot and connected with its magnificence.

In the past 18 months I made over ten trips to my home to document the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico and with each trip, it was more difficult to leave. I felt my work was just scratching the surface, that there is so much more I could do, that I wanted the Gulf of Mexico to raise up through me to protect Herself. All of these reasons resound in my mind but more important than anything is an intense desire, a burning within my soul, to be home. I can’t really explain it, although my mind has tried to make sense of it. It feels like my bones responding to a homing signal. Maybe I’m experiencing the same pull that monarch butterflies feel or migratory birds. It’s like an internal signal has been activated and I’m ready to go.

Meanwhile, amid this magnetic pull back to the Alabama Gulf Coast, I have my home for sale and am dealing with flaky buyers who change their minds like they were changing their dinner order. Dealing with the ups and downs of selling my beautiful home is wearing on me. But my vision is still crystal clear; I won’t allow insensitive buyers to detract me from my intention.

I love the land here in the Blue Ridge Mountains. The nearby Smoky Mountains are a true spiritual home for me and have been since I was a child. Living here has been healing and restorative and has boosted my creativity and connected me with incredible people. All to prepare me to return back to my home and apply everything I’ve learned here to help an area that was heavily damaged with the BP Deepwater Horizon Oil Spill. And no matter what the slick BP advertisements and tourist boards say, there is still substantial problems in areas along the coast and a looming unknown regarding wildlife and Gulf health. I want to be there to do whatever I can to help this place recover.

And still….still…beyond the reasons I think I’m headed home, I really don’t know what I will be doing help the communities or wildlife. And that doesn’t matter really because I’m taking the first step and that is to be willing to sell my mountain home and move back to the place where I was born in total trust that I will be shown what to do when I am there. I am willing to take this leap.

When I was walking this morning in the frosty, mountain air I realized that the biggest surprise of everything going on in my life now is this intense love I have for the Gulf of Mexico, the shores, bays, rivers and people. My bones resonate with the tides there and for this deep sense of place, I am truly grateful. I never realized how powerful the love of a place could be and how being totally committed to helping protect it can change the course of a life.

Excerpt from my book Sharks On My Fin Tips: A Wild Woman’s Adventures with Nature–“Like many coastal species that begin life in the brown waters of Weeks Bay, I began my life on the shores of this tiny estuary. I grew up amid herons, egrets, baby crabs, shrimp and mullet with the dark-brown mud squishing between my young toes. The smell of salt marsh filled my being and was imprinted on my soul only hours after I breathed my first breath….And like the creatures birthed in the bay, I too moved away from its tranquil shores yet I will always feel the pulsation of saltwater in my blood like a magnet, drawing me home.”

Where do you find a sense of place? What place calls to your bones?

The Psychosis of Christmas

The Psychosis of Christmas

By |

This piece was written four years ago but it seems to fit perfectly again this year. With no editing, I present the following commentary.

I stopped dead in the aisle, overcome with three different Christmas songs playing at once along with the noise of an air compressor rattling twelve-foot high shelves. The compressor was keeping giant inflatable globes pumped up but it was creating a background noise that did not quite cover up the tinny tunes blaring from various outdoor speakers or the overhead Muzak speakers spreading Christmas music. I had to stop walking my cart down the aisles of tacky decorations and breathe. I muttered out loud, ‘What am I doing here?’

Almost immediately my inner muse giggled and I understood. I was doing research for an article on greed that had been on my mind for a couple of weeks. The only logical, reasonable explanation for me being in the gigantic store was research. Certainly I would not, in my right mind, enter into such a madhouse the weekend before Thanksgiving.

I wandered on, through a fog of fake Christmas snow, to find two cheap boxes of Christmas ornaments with which to finish my hodge-podge of a tree. I thought of my tree. Many of my ornaments are hand-made by my daughter and me or they are old and carry some sentimental value. My tree is not the most beautiful tree from the standpoint of outer beauty, but it does have a lot of heart and a lot of Christmas-past memories that drape its branches. I wanted a few sparkles to make it glow. Thinking of the hand-made ornaments on the tree made me remember a Christmas years ago.

When my daughter was in first grade we went on our yearly excursion to the tree farm. That year I found I could not kill a tree. Armed with a saw, we wandered through rows and rows of beautiful trees but I could not bring myself to kill one. So we purchased our first artificial tree. I have had some version of a fake tree for the past fifteen years. A lot of love has gone into the artificial trees and I rest well knowing one more tree each year is out there breathing for us. Thus far I’ve saved fifteen trees.

I really love Christmas, even with the retail hoop-la. Two of my friends and I admit we listen to Christmas music long before Thanksgiving arrives. It is inspiring and hopeful and it brings back such good childhood memories. I almost felt guilty for putting my tree up before Thanksgiving but my family is visiting and I decided to bring in the Christmas spirit a little early.

Last week I unpacked the tree, put it together and decorated it. When I plugged it in I opened my arms wide and invited the Spirit of Christmas to fill my home while Christmas carols filled the room. That was before my trip to Christmas hell.

A bump to my buggy brought me back to the moment. I stood in the aisle with huge, fluffy angels and glittery stars trying to find a topper for the tree. ‘What is with this craziness?’ I wondered. Then I thought back to a news report I had heard weeks ago stating that retailers were fearful of the slow economy causing people to purchase less. In an effort to have a profitable season they moved their target date for holiday marketing up several weeks to lessen the possibility of a less profitable season. Goodness knows we all need a few more ipods or x-boxes or our lives would just suck, wouldn’t they?

Now I’m not being a scrooge but I have to wonder when enough profit is enough or when enough stuff is enough. Does anybody know?

I have a theory and it has to do with the greed of our particular little country, the good old USA. This is my theory. We are such a consumer-machine that the downfall of our country will not be through violence or disease. Our downfall will be a direct result of our greed. And China has already figured it out. All they have to do is poison the little toys that EVERYone has to have for their kids and before you know it, we’re being killed by our own greed. There’s something to be said for population control but wouldn’t be better if it was by some intelligent planning rather than our own avarice?

Before I continue I must point out that I have toys. I also have a nice home and fun vehicles to drive. I’m not trying to exclude myself from my own commentary. On the contrary, I’m asking all of us to take a moment and step away from the ‘wish list’ and ponder the idea that we could all get by on a lot less and most likely wouldn’t suffer in the process. Are we willing to turn ourselves into slaves to a retail god?

Maybe you don’t like my conspiracy theory but you have to admit it is kind of funny. Or maybe it’s really sad.

How do we invoke the Spirit of Christmas without buying in (pun intended) to the Christmas psychosis that has hypnotized our country? How can we take the values of love and giving and leave the retail circus behind? Is it possible to summon the beauty of the holiday season without the parade of plastic Santa’s?

I continued my research in the store, observing other people and looking at the over-priced LED tree-topper stars that claimed to blink as bright as Bethlehem. I just wanted something meaningful to top my tree. I pushed the squeaky buggy, weaving in and out of aisles of people that looked as confused as I felt. Finally I found a tasteful black bear with a wreath around his neck. YES! That would be perfect since I live in the mountains and have bears frequent my yard. I picked it up and read the price tag: $3.99. YES! That’s great. But wait a minute. Where was it made? Made in China. Never mind.

I walked away without the bear. My only purchase was two boxes of ornaments for the price of one and a half boxes. I got out of the store for less than ten dollars. But to exit I had to run the gauntlet of two extremely long aisles of candy, just what everyone needs after the stress of a psychotic Christmas experience.

Can we bring the beauty of the holiday season into our homes, into our hearts without the stress of having the prettiest tree, the loudest outdoor speakers blaring Santa tunes and without going into debt to buy presents that will be forgotten within two weeks? I’m going to try. This year my goal is to keep my heart open and invoke the spirit of love into my home and life. I believe it’s possible to focus on light and love rather than surcome to retail hypnosis.

In Star Trek: The Next Generation there is a race of human-machines. They are humans that are slowly turned into machines. The Borg, as they are called, has a saying: “Resistance is futile, prepare to be assimilated. We are the Borg.” Let’s don’t become assimilated into the greed machine. We have choice.

—————–
Update 2011–I’m not putting up a Christmas tree this year. Many changes are happening in my life and I find myself preparing to move and showing my home to potential buyers. So this year, I’ll have to let my ornaments rest. Hopefully I’ll be relocated to Coastal Alabama next year. Meanwhile, I’ll enjoy wonderful memories of family visiting the mountain last year. Isn’t that what the Season of Light is really about?

Let’s see if our accelerated consumerism can take a back seat. On my list this year? To love each other and the planet a little bit more. What’s on your Christmas or Hannukah or holiday list this year?

Evolution of Humanity

Evolution of Humanity

By |

I sat in silence holding love and appreciation for this magnificent planet in my mind and heart. Images came and went–animals, people, bodies of water, forests, sky. There was only peace and interconnection.

Let this day be a marker for us to rise above our selfish concerns and elevate our thoughts to what is good for the whole. No longer worried about ‘making a name for ourselves’ or receiving recognition for who we are or what we do, may we drop all striving for me, me, me and open our hearts for the good of the whole, for the good of this beautiful water planet.

As Osho writes, May the veil of illusion burn away as the sense of groping in darkness dissolves. May we be witness to the process of humanity evolving into the beings we can be. Let all thoughts of separation drop away and may we let go the poison fed to our minds. May our entire lives become flames of awareness.