I lived the first half of my life in a mist. I thought I could see but was blind to the sacred. At 17 a spiritual awakening turned me into an avid seeker. My ideas about God came from other people and the Bible. I read a chapter every night. At 27 I experienced a […]
In these moments of heightened self-awareness I feel like I’m in touch with beauty, my true Self, and the Source of life. When I was younger, this usually only happened in church. Now it happens daily, especially when I experience a synchronicity, am outdoors in nature, or spend time with family or friends.
The intuitive’s morality is governed neither by thinking nor by feeling; he has his own characteristic morality, which consists in a loyalty to his vision and in voluntary submission to its authority. ~Carl Jung, CW 6, para. 613 Every day was Labor Day this summer. Mental labor. Emotional labor. A labor of love. Labor nonetheless. […]
As I write this I’m agonizing over something that happened earlier this evening. During the summer I live in a remote, mountainous area with curvy, dangerous roads. This evening I was headed to town to attend a lecture by an eminent theologian when I came upon a huge, black-and-white shaggy dog standing in the middle of the road looking very lost and confused.
I love being outdoors at night. The fresh cool breeze off the nearby lake. The quiet. The open space. The peace. No people to talk to. No cars to avoid.
The Asian martial arts are rooted in Zen Buddhism and Taoism. Their spiritual elements gave purpose and meaning to the ancient warriors who loved and practiced them. The same can be said of those of us who practice loving Nature, our Mother. If our practices have a spiritual element, so do hers.
The thing that makes dividing my time between these two different paths work well for me is that I’m listening to how I really want to spend my time and looking for meaning regardless of where I am.
For a while we entertained the idea of building a tree house for the kids in a stand of giant hemlocks at the top of the mountain. That idea was squashed when the hemlocks were infested with the wooly adelgid parasite. As the dead trees fell we found other uses for them.
It’s been cool and rainy for the past two weeks. When misty drizzles swell into weightier drops the birds desert our feeders. I feel sorry for them, worry about how they’re keeping dry.
When I quit teaching and began writing over 25 years ago, this habit persisted. By then my reading, studying and writing were focused on Jungian psychology and understanding my dreams. But as I persisted in this inner work, something changed.