The Wooden Heart

Good morning relatives

I just got back from a great pt session!  I'm having my version of Moroccan chicken that I cooked for eight hours in my tagine yesterday.  Yummm it is yummmy  I wish I could serve all of you dinner and we could visit and laugh and play together for an evening.

I miss playing  laughing out loud and rolling around in the snow.  One of my exercises with my shoulder is to make snow angels!  well minnesota is the perfect place and February is the perfect month for snow angels.  

speaking of angels do you think they make snow angels in the clouds?

LOL
I have been working on my heart ever since my sister Rachael died.  Well that's not exactly true, the crowning death blow was when my dog Burnt Toast died three months after Racho.  that summer, my heart died in my chest. just gave up any and all sense of a core, heart connection to love.

I travelled alot that following year, I guess I was running away from my couch.  Racho used to spend tons of time on my couch, she loved the red leather, (i got it at an estate sale!) and that it was long and wide enough to cradle her long lanky frame while she took naps. Toast and i had also spent many a night curled up on that couch in front of the fire, reading together.

so I travelled to get away from my couch.

In the winter I was driving with my dogs through Iowa, and pulled into a rest stop.  wE got out and I put on their leashes to take a walk through the little woods there.  We had the pleasure of walking on paths in the snow.  It smelled so good.

in the middle space between two paths that met and crossed, there was an old mostly dead stump of a tree. its arms reached out to nothingness as they had long since been broken off. It looked like it had been struck by lightning, but at its base, on one side, new shoots were growing up. I could feel the Spirit of that tree calling me.
while I was driving I had been listening to Clarissa Pinkola Estes talk about hardening off our heartwood. She talked about how a young tree growing is affected by the wind and the seasons, it is supple and strong, yet it must, she said learn or allow the adverse fluctuations in the environment to "harden" off its heart wood, if it was to survive and grow to be a strong long lived tree.

I suppose as we all know the balance between being young and flexible, naive, and a heart that is hardened off, but not too hard, and being strong and long lasting  resistant if you will to the storms that life brings, is to not be rigid.  Rigidity and being too hard in our hearts can lead to death.

my heart did not feel rigid just dead  like a dead battery

As I approached that old tree, what was left of her, I saw that her heart was hollow, she was blackened and empty, or so it looked at first.  Something about her drew me closer, but not too close, and I saw that in her heart, in the hollow of her breast, there was built a nest. the space that had been created in her heart, had become the home, the safety for some animal.

I stepped back onto the path, in the snow, and placed tobacco for her and her graciousness.  Even in the most adverse of all endings to what had been a great life, (she was or had been at one time, a very large tree, her trunk was easily 2-3 feet across), she had opened up and given refuge to another life. She was cradling in her heart, protecting from the storms, a family.

I've thought about that tree in relation to my own heart. It has been most difficult for me to feel, truly feel, love again in my heart since the loss of my sister and my dog. Over the years I have felt it flutter, felt it stir, but truthfully, it has been many years since I have felt it beat with love.

one of the things that life has brought to me through the grandmothers, is the chance for me to reawaken my wooden heart. My friend Ele has played a big part in that reawakening. As we have become friends, we have both struggled with and carved out between us, the sculpture of our care, our bond.

Our most recent realignment of our hearts in the voyage of friendship, cracked open my heart a little bit. in that split between fear and old scars, she inserted a wedge of trust, and drove it home with her actions.  I'm not sure how it happened that my heart became so elusive to the trust of love. It's not what I want, or ever wanted. Nor am I sure how this particular friend found that spot that was still weak, still open to change. But she did . and when she drove home into that place that could still be carved with care, her commitment to listening, to showing up, to not running away, I stood still and let her do it.

last weekend I called her and asked her why it is that some hearts can stay connected, stay open through time, or events.?  She heard the word trust, from the ether as a response, it was about trust. Trust that a friend would be there, that they would hold the space of love, no matter what. I asked her why was it that she had a perfect connection of trust with a childhood friend?  and she said that she wasn't sure, they had played together.

that was it  I felt like another missing piece for my wooden heart had been found.  We need to play together.  to laugh  to make each other laugh and fall down arms akimbo and hug and snort, and cry and giggle
then I remembered an old movie that I saw when I was a kid. It was one of the Canadian Mountie movies, Rose-Marie its called. From that movie I can still remember the song. I sung it over and over as a kid. It's called "Indian Love Call."

so I found it on you tube and have imported it here for you relatives. I pray that we can hear the call of our hearts to each other and that no matter how hardened off they may be, they can hear that call.

sorry for the kissing, LOL its part of the movie.

lets do that relatives, the next time we see each other, sing and play and laugh.

love love love
mary

Blessings and Love in the Mahkahta

Good evening relatives
Thank you for understanding my need to take good care of me the past couple of weeks. I had the first of two surgeries on my shoulder Tuesday. Everything went well. Now that my shoulder is not frozen, when I try and move it I can really feel how much damage was done to the muscles and interestingly  can feel how big and interconnected those muscles are

Remember the bionic woman? Lol we can rebuild her!  She would've felt the weirdness like me of two shoulder that are so different. One goes through the ROM ( range of motion) exercises with no sensation of the muscles at all. The other it's like trying to use rehydrated beef jerky or overdone pot roast to make my joint move. I wonder how they will compare in six more months?

It's nice to think a future exists isn't it?  We all kind of live that way. So much of our day socked away for the future. It can maybe a little prevent us from being in the now. Just enough that when because of focusing on tomorrow we let now slip past and not until we realize its gone do we understand its importance when it was NOW.

The two best teachers I have had for developing my sense of Now, we're my dog ( s) and my horse.  My first horse's name was Mahkahta.  Which is Dakota for the middle or between space. The space between father sky and Mother Earth the Mahkahta is the place where human beings and all other Beings live dance play and work. Because the horse could run like the wind but also touch the earth and carry a rider it was seen as a spirit being the gave humans connection to earth and sky.

Mahkahta and I met on a summer day. She was about 6 or 7 years old  I fell in love with her immediately.  When we rode together it was like two beings who could read each others minds and hearts. We flowed like a perfect shoulder doing the backstroke.

I loved spending time with her. Riding talking brushing her. She was a jealous girl. If anyone but me touched her or came near while we were getting ready to ride she would bite the crap out of them. She liked our solitude and the only companion she tolerated on the trail was my dog Four Bears. Four Bears was a mix of four different breeds and despite the urban myth that mutts are the strongest, in my experience as a vet they can have just as many defects as any other  hand made soul.

Four Bears had a heart defect. A monster murmur that made her exercise intolerant. If we went too fast, too much uphill, or too long she would turn blue and drop over.  Mahkahta hated dogs. I'm telling you I think I was the only thing she cared for, well almost.

When I brought Bears out to the farm where I kept Mahkahta, I usually kept her in the truck with the windows cracked while I rode. But one day I forgot something in the truck so I took Mahkahta over and tied her opened the truck to get my water, and Bears jumped out.  Her and Mahkahta exchanged greetings and settled in to a companionship that I was not invited to disrupt. It was so funny how that horse just took to that dog and watched out for her like a mamma bear.

If Bears was with us when we were riding Mahkahta would sense when she needed a break and either slow down or just stop, some folks might call it balk, unil Bears was able to o a little more.  You know I could've kept Bears home more, or tried to force my horse to keep going. But it was more intriguing to me to see them love each other.  Despite what people thought about Mahkahta she was full of love. She just was damn particular about who got it.

Now that I think back on it she really didn't make any bones about deciding who she thought was ok for us to be around and who best not.  She actually was a great judge of character. She and I could communicate without words better than I could with anyone I knew. Come to think of it, Grandmother Margaret and I can communicate like that. With body language, twitches of facial muscles, and penetrating eyes that lock like Vulcan mind melds. We are horse people GMa Margaret says. The Arapaho are the horse Nation.

My first given native name was by Jamie Sams author of the animal medicine cards. We were acquaintances between my 28th and31st year before I lost track of her. Jamie is a really sweet woman. I enjoyed learning from her. She took me on a dreamquest one afternoon and it was sort of like talking with an oracle or having your palm read only native style. Jamie called me Medicine Horse Woman. Shunka Pejuta Win. She said I should never be without a horse

 The year I decided to go to veterinary school, I had a dream about Mahkahta. Four Bears had crossed over two or three years prior, she had a short but good love filled life, her heart stopped being an asset and that was just it. Any how I had finished my prerequisites for vet school, gotten my letter of acceptance and was all set to go. Vet school with internship and residency was seven years of school. I also had to work to support myself as there definitely was no $ from home.

That meant I would not have time to ride Mahkahta and I wasn't sure where to board her. It was expensive to keep her where I did, and before I decided to go to school, all my cash went to caring for her
 Out at the farm where I kept her there was a young girl who was I think 11 or12 at the time. She loved Mahkahta. And curiously enough Mahkahta tolerated that girl. She would let her lead her, get her grain or help wash her off. Her mom asked me one day if Mahkahta was for sale. She and her hubby worked as chemists for 3M and they had bucks. They also rode and even ad a nice hobby farm north of the cities. I told her no my horse was not for sale, I asked her why don't you find your own horse and she said her daughter didn't want any other horse but Mahkahta.

I would snort and say Tell your girl to get her own horse this one is mine.


After I got my letter of acceptance to veterinary school, I had a dream that Mahkahta was laying out in the pasture on her side with a big hole in her chest and her life was leaking out of her. Mahkahta was already 14 or 15 by the time I got in vet school. In nine more Years she would be almost twenty four which is pretty much getting on up there for a horse.

she would just be kept like a trinket on a shelf the second best years of her life wasted just waiting on me to do my thing. if I didn't figure out how to help her have her life while I was going to school.

I had to make a choice. Either go to school, or stay with my horse. As my dream told me, if I tried to have both this extraordinary horse's life would leak out like a broken heart while I was gone. So I bugged that little girl, I made her help me with my horse for a, almost a year, all the while telling her to find her own horse. But she didn't want any other horse. She wanted my horse or nothing.

 So I called her mom at 3M one Wednesday and asked her if they found a horse yet, and she said no, the only one she wants is Mahkahta, so I asked if they had a trailer, and she said no they were waiting till they bought the horse. so I told her mom, you can't take the girl and her horse to play days or trail rides without a trailer.  I told her I'll sell you my trailer for $500.00, you can leave cash with the farm owner,

 I'm going to load my horse in my trailer Saturday morning at 7am, and leave it unhitched in the yard at the farm. Then I'm leaving to get coffee. If I either see you or the horse and trailer are still there when I get back at 8 am the deal is off.

 So I went out on Friday and washed Mahkahta, rode her one last time, spent the whole day and evening talking to her, and then Saturday morning as the sun came up we rode just once more  and I loaded her in the trailer, told her I loved her, hugged her beautiful neck one more time, closed the gate on the trailer and drove away.

 At 8 am I was back and picked up the cash or the trailer and my tack and left.

 A few weeks later in the dreamtime I found myself with Bears by my side standing at a rail fence watching some kids on their horses at a playday. Mahkahta and her girl were one of those pairs. Mahkahta trotted over to me, out of her body for a minute or two to give me a nicker and let me know she was happy.

 This last Monday night in the dreamtime the Spirits took me to an old house/ farm I didn't recognize. No one was there and the lawn looked lush and green, but only infrequently taken care of. I walked around back, and there in the far corner was Mahkahta, she was old now. She was by her self and she still had my halter on her beautiful head, Her hair coat a bit furry for winter was soft as ever, and her head was down like she was waiting for something.

I softly went up to her, put my arm on her neck and said, hey girl, I'm here now, lets go home.

 So I took her with me as the dream slipped through time and space back to my bed here at the center of the east and west gate in the house that sits over the water and stone of the blood of our ancestors I brought my Freind home.

As we crossed the barrier back to NOW, she let go of her body and as I lay here and opened my eyes in the dark the blue light of her Sincu. Her soul came into view hovered for a moment near my face then slipped into my heart.

 I'm so glad she came home. That she trusted me years ago and I her. I'm so glad that she waited for me to come and get her.

 Love is a funny thing. If you give it away and let go of only wanting out of it what you want. It stays with you forever while multiplying in someone else's heart. and sometimes right when you think you are all by yourself just before surgery, it comes home to you ,
I love you old horse
I love you too relatives
 Mb

spring seeds

good morning relatives

welcome to the day

we had snow again  it is so pretty   everything is covered in white    the sun is so clear and bright today it is a perfect day  I have the windows open and cleaned off the table to prepare for beginning beadwork  its nice

last week / end was the end of the year of the Dragon and the beginning of the year of the Black Water Snake    it was Chinese New year   the lunar calander changes when all of the moons of the year have come and gone and the beginning of the cycle of the next lunar calendar begins again

There have been many dreams this winter  many dreams  mostly about choices that we make and the consequences of those choices  
it is probably the most dynamic and accessible way that we can send a vibration out into our world  by how we make choices throughout the day

in the lunar year  the seasonal year our time of rest peaks in February  already the days are lengthening as we turn our face back towards the sun I can already feel the spring flowers heading to the surface of the earth readying themselves to burst forth and blossom

thanx to the injuries that changed my day and my life here at the house I have like bear had the time to sit and think  to rest  

it has been really nice to feel the deep rest here at the Center of the East and West Gate    

this post which was sent to me by a friend expresses for me today the culmination of the winter thought in one thought but not all thoughts LOL

after I read it spreading the seeds of its words was what I chose to do with this blog today
so for your spring for our world here relatives are your seeds
wopila Charles

The Three Seeds

Charles Eisenstein

Once upon a time, the tribe of humanity embarked upon a long journey called Separation. It was not a blunder as some - seeing its ravages upon the planet - might think. Nor was it a fall, nor an expression of some innate evil peculiar to the human species. It was a journey with a purpose: to experience the extremes of Separation, to develop the gifts that come in response to it, and to integrate all of that in a new age of Reunion.

But we knew at the outset that there was danger in this journey: that we might become lost in Separation and never come back. We might become so alienated from nature that we would destroy the very basis of life; we might become so separated from each other that our poor egos, left naked and terrified, would become incapable of rejoining the community of all being. In other words, we foresaw the crisis we face today.

That is why, thousands of years ago, we planted three seeds that would sprout at the time that our journey of Separation reached its extreme. Three seeds, three transmissions from the past to the future, three ways of preserving and transmitting the truth of the world, the self, and how to be human.

Imagine you were alive thirty thousand years ago, and had a vision of all that was to come: symbolic language, naming and labeling the world; agriculture, the domestication of the wild, dominion over other species and the land; the Machine, the mastery of natural forces; the forgetting of how beautiful and perfect the world is; the atomization of society; a world where humans fear even to drink of the streams and rivers, where we live among strangers and don't know the people next door, where we kill across the planet with the touch of a button, where the seas turn black and the air burns our lungs, where we are so broken that we dare not remember that it isn't supposed to be this way. Imagine you saw it all coming. How would you help people thirty thousand years thence? How would you send information, knowledge, aid over such a vast gulf of time? You see, this actually happened. That is how we came up with the three seeds.

The first seed was the wisdom lineages: lines of transmission going back thousands of years that have preserved and protected essential knowledge. From adept to disciple, in every part of the world, various wisdom traditions have passed down teachings in secret. Wisdom keepers, Sufis, Taoist wizards, Zen masters, mystics, gurus, and many others, hiding within each religion, kept the knowledge safe until the time when the world would be ready to reclaim it. That time is now, and they have done their job well. The time of secrets is over. Released too early, the knowledge was co-opted, abused, or usually just ignored. When we still had not covered the territory of Separation, when we still aspired to widening our conquest of nature, when the story of humanity's Ascent was not yet complete, we weren't ready to hear about union, connectedness, interdependency, inter-being-ness. We thought the answer was more control, more technology, more logic, a better-engineered society of rational ethics, more control over matter, nature, and human nature. But now the old paradigms are failing, and human consciousness has reached a degree of receptivity that allows this seed to spread across the earth. It has been released, and it is growing inside of us en masse.

The second seed was the sacred stories: myths, legends, fairy tales, folklore, and the perennial themes that keep reappearing in various guises throughout history. They have always been with us, so that however far we have wandered into the Labyrinth of Separation, we have always had a lifeline, however tenuous and tangled, to the truth. The stories nurture that tiny spark of memory within us that knows our origin and our destination. The ancients, knowing that the truth would be co-opted and distorted if left in explicit form, encoded it into stories. When we hear or read one of these stories, even if we cannot decode the symbolism, we are affected on an unconscious level. Myths and fairy tales represent a very sophisticated psychic technology. Each generation of storytellers, without consciously intending to, transmits the covert wisdom that it learned, unconsciously, from the stories told it.

Without directly contradicting the paradigms of separation and ascent, our myths and stories have smuggled in a very different understanding of reality. Under the cover of, "It's just a story," they convey emotional, poetic, and spiritual truth that contradicts linear logic, reductionism, determinism, and objectivity. I am not talking here about moralistic stories. Most of those carry little truth. To transmit the second seed, we must humble ourselves to our stories, and not try to use them for our own moralistic ends. They were created by beings far wiser than our modern selves. If you tell or transmit stories, be very respectful of their original form and don't change them unless you feel a poetic upwelling. Pay attention to which children's literature has the feel of a true story. Most recent kids' literature does not. You can recognize a true story by the way its images linger in your mind. It imprints itself on the psyche. You get the feeling that something else has been transmitted alongside the plot, something invisible. Usually, such stories bear rich symbolism often unknown even to their authors. A comparison of two 20th-century children's books illustrates my point: compare a Berenstain Bears story with How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Only the latter has a psychic staying power, revealing the spirit of a true story, and it is rich with archetypal symbolism.

The third seed was the indigenous tribes, the people who at some stage opted out of the journey of separation. Imagine that at the outset of the journey, the Council of Humanity gathered and certain members volunteered to retreat to remote locations and forgo separation, which meant refusing to enter into an adversarial, controlling relationship to nature, and therefore refusing the process that leads to the development of high technology. It also meant that when they were discovered by the humans who had gone deeply into Separation, they would meet with the most atrocious suffering. That was unavoidable.

These people of the third seed have nearly completed their mission today. Their mission was simply to survive long enough to provide living examples of how to be human. Each tribe carried a different piece, sometimes many pieces, of this knowledge. Many of them show us how to see and relate to the land, animals, and plants. Others show us how to work with dreams and the unseen. Some have preserved natural ways of raising children, now spreading through such books as The Continuum Concept. Some show us how to communicate without words - tribes such as the Hazda and the Piraha communicate mostly in song. Some show us how to free ourselves from the mentality of linear time. All of them exemplify a way of being that we intuitively recognize and long for. They stir a memory in our hearts, and awaken our desire to return.

In a recent conversation, the Lakota Aloysius Weasel Bear told me that he once asked his grandfather, "Grandpa, the White Man is destroying everything, shouldn't we try to stop him?" His grandfather replied, "No, it isn't necessary. We will stand by. He will outsmart himself." The grandfather recognized two things in this reply: (1) That Separation carries the seeds of its own demise, and (2) That his people's role is to be themselves. But I don't think that this is an attitude of callousness that leaves the White Man to his just desserts; it is an attitude of compassion and helping that understands the tremendous importance of simply being who they are. They are keeping alive something that the planet and the community of all being needs.

By the same token, our culture's fascination with all things indigenous is not merely the latest form of cultural imperialism and exploitation. True, the final stage of cultural domination would be to turn Native ways into a brand, a marketing image. And certainly there are some in my culture who, sundered from community and from a real identity, adopt Native pseudo-identities and pride themselves on their connections to Native culture, spirituality, people, and so forth. Underneath that, however, we recognize that the surviving First Peoples have something important to teach us. We are drawn to their gift, to the seed that they have preserved until the present time. To receive this seed, it is not necessary to participate in their rituals, take an animal name, or claim a Native ancestor, but only to humbly see what they have preserved, so that memory may awaken. Until recently, such seeing was impossible for us, blinkered by our cultural superiority complex, our arrogance, our apparent success in mastering the universe. Now that converging ecological and social crises reveal the bankruptcy of our ways, we have the eyes to see the ways of others.

The seeds of Reunion are sprouting everywhere. That which was hidden for millennia is coming to light. Soon, fertilized by the detritus of our decaying civilization, the sprouts will mature, bloom, and bear fruit. Our job is first to receive them, then to spread them everywhere and to guard and foster them with every ounce of our love.

Images by Niffty Neal Fowler, used courtesy of a Creative Commons license.

The Peeking Duck of Lot's Wife

good morning Relatives

I have a Friend that i met at Lame Deer that sent me a little solar daisy.  it sits on my desk and rocks its head back and forth when the sunlight comes through the window in just the right way
I think of her laughter in the morning and I think of her work and her chi  that is so strong and so full of joy and I am grateful that she knew to give me a plant  a flower that i don't have to care for but will in all of its mechanicalness care for me   waste' my Freind, Nina waste'  Wopila, pilamayaye  my tiospiye

that daisy rocking back and forth reminds me of two things  one that the light will come again and strike me when I need it  and the dark will give me rest when I need that as long as I don't forget the light will come again and to rest when I am in the dark holding on like the yin yang the little center of light that is at the core of the dark.

I also think about the lilies in the field if i concentrate simply on being me  rather than what the world can be for me  or what I can be for it   then I will like the daisy already have around and in and through me everything that creator knew was important that that daisy needed to sprout, grow, blossom, seed and eventually die

it is when I think that I am going to affect what is growing around me positively or negatively that I transform from that little daisy into a noxious weed. we don't have the right to decide what another chooses to do or become from that little wave of white petals and yellow center can open up in them
their need to sprout and become what they will is up to them and how they choose to apply their own birthright

I believe I am in the seeding stage of my life   I always wanted to live to be 200  it seemed like a nice number    so what I know is that plants can seed year after year and continue to grow and in the season of appropriate time blossom again and again until the time comes that Tacucnasncan has already set in motion on the great weavers loom when that little blossoming and growing and flowering life is time to be compost

I look forward to compost in a way  it is a good time to rest I think

all daises are beautiful  all give with those happy little upturned faces the reflection of what is in their heart.  because they were made that way and because to the balance of the meadow and the rain and the sun and the bugs and the earth they are irreplaceable in their little place being what they are

they don't try to take over the meadow and they don't try to be red or blue that is without some well intentioned profiteering peeking duck peddling do-gooder dying them that is

but one day they die    all of us will release our bodies like beautiful clay suits stepped out of with care and gratefulness and dropping them to the ground like  worn out but much loved jeans and we will be free to ???

there is a difficulty in understanding doing work and letting go of the consequences    not looking back
not making judgement or decision about what is done with what cannot be undone

I have wondered since i was a little girl about Lot's family.  the story of Lot and the city of Sodom and Gomorrah  and the women that looked back   what I have wondered about in that story is what does the pillar of salt mean?  why salt?

it cannot be undone when our bonds are loosened that restrained us from doing harm to others
who is to say that when a teaching or a thought that loosens us from what was keeping us stuck or held back propels us into our own sense of power, release, freedom, ego ????  perhaps it propels us into actions that the little bond that was keeping us from acting knew would take our lives or the life of another. so perhaps learning what ever it was that opened that gate is not so good after all

freedom comes with consequences  and ego is at times the tightrope that promises safety or love or a better world or nicer daisies if we just don't take the plunge back in to the fearful free fall of unknowing and land back like a drowning beginner in the raging force of life

I believe that every first grade teacher or high school science teacher has wondered at some time if they face the thought of regret from having taught the ability to read or reason around nuclear molecules  or negotiation in debate class. I wonder if the unibombers teachers regret encouraging his mind to open doors. or if his pastor wonders if he should have taught him such fundamentalist reactions to a diverse and beautiful meadow of our world?  I wonder if they worry if they are creating  monsters when they hear a particular giggle from their students. and should they continue to do so?  if the teacher didn't teach would the student make a nuclear bomb?

I remember one night when I was working as an overnight emergency veterinarian so that I could afford to be a resident. a family came in with a small kitten that had suffered head trauma. the father and mother came into the exam room with a little girl   she was maybe 5 or 6 years old   the son waited out in the waiting area which at the time I took an nanosecond to register. The kitten was almost dead from its injuries and we took it in the back where I did a thorough but efficient examination which unfortunately brought me to the recommendation of putting it to sleep. I kept it on oxygen while I went back to the room and spoke with the parents asking what happened. the mother was uncomfortable, the father very upset not angry but like he was holding back something that he hated, he said to the little girl tell her what happened.  I looked at the little girl. she looked me in the eye and with the clear unemotionally registering look of a sociopath said to me I threw it in the air and let it fall. I kept looking at her and said how many times?    after describing for me with the same emotionless pleasant look on her face how she threw the kitten up in the air over and over watching it fall from different heights she finally said I just wanted to see what would happen.  I looked at her for a long time or what seemed to be and finally said well I need to talk to your mom and dad for a minute can you wait with your brother?  so I told her parents that the kitten needed to be put to sleep and that the best I could offer was to keep the daughter from seeing that death administered legally. that it would have to be put to sleep was not the question  the question was what did I do at that point about the little girl  and what were they going to do about her

most people think that animals are brought to us veterinarians so that we can fix them. the truth is that the animals bring the owners to us so that we can fix Them. I told the parents that I had never seen a human being like their daughter and that it was very important that they listen. I asked about other pets and they said that she had had other pets but that they had also died. I told them right there that I believed their daughter was not well and that they needed to take her in immediately for evaluation because I did not think that either their family or our greater family of beings would be safe from her if this could not be addressed.  and I told them that on no certain circumstance should she be allowed animals or have a pet.

needless to say I have never had that conversation since or before. and it took all I had in that 5 minute window to listen to and trust my guts   the father immediately was relieved and said to his wife I knew that we needed to do something about her  the mother was in full protective of her little cub mode. it was straight out of a horror movie where the mother is the protector sent to protect the creepy demon child. we spoke for what seemed quite a while and I finished the case  and they left

I dont know what happened to that family or that little girl  the kitten's sacrifice I have never forgotten
I made sure that on the records not my name or any of my coworkers were listed  I did not charge them any money for the visit so there was no bill or information that they took home about us
after they left I wiped the air and my self from being accessed by that girl
I did not want her to remember my name so I eliminated hers from me
I think it is the only time in my life that I was in a room where the parents were terrified of a child.

I have thought about the ego of compassion for some time now    it took a while to find its name  I have seen it show up around me multiple times and gone over and over what is my role in creating it and what is my role in not creating it    I don't think I am that powerful is the first layer of ego shedding the second of course is that we cannot change anyone but ourselves, the third is that when we do good it is ok and when we do bad it is not and that we can tell the difference, the forth is that doing anything for someone else can be worth it, the fifth is that I can give it over to god whoever god is and thus wash my hands of my action or attitude or effect on my world.  ego can change shape like a chameleon on crack.

as much as I have studied and tried to eliminate ego, like water or gas in a vacuum ego still was filling the space that I made for it somehow in my world.  for a while now I have known that I had to locate the door  or crack that it was getting into that I was allowing and close that door forever  its has been a long trail with way too many casualties  ego is crafty
the latest breakthrough was about compassion    helping someone help themselves
should I ? then what?  what if I make the wrong move? what if I create or unleash a monster? what will they do now that they are free? by hearing in my head just those questions alone told me that ego was already in the room  maybe not in charge but ready to take it.  then I looked back at the source of my motivation the taiji
and I found compassion   I found ego hiding behind compassion like a little lost old friend

Krisnamurti said to do our work and not look back     like Lot and his wife   and I remembered the salt
don't look back no salt    look back  salt

finding out about not looking back had to begin again with looking at why do the work at all  why do the work  why be what I am

if IAM then that is Wuxi    everything and nothing
if I begin the intention of any thing that is taiji   the beginning thought/ inertia/ movement that disrupts wuxi

what initiates taiji relatives?
nature
the force of the shoot pushing the mud aside to get to the light?
I definitely don't think Im better than those little green shoots  I have a nature  and I do follow it but I also have added discernment at least I hope I have and I do trust after many long years my heart

 if I do taiji then I have changed everything and nothing because I have put it into motion

if I proceed to yin yang then I have moved that inertia into solid form in this world  action and inaction  up down  right wrong   black white    it is inescapable

it is the yin yang that solidly cooks the goose of the one who ganders in good or bad action either one

so a taiji master never goes to yin yang although I have heard they really like to duck peeking

moving into yin yang is looking back  its peeking

Lots wife looked back

it is compassion I believe that caused Lots wife to look back
I dont think, like I was taught in bible sunday school, that she was looking back because she wanted the greed or degradation she was leaving behind
you see it was too soon    after she left that she would have turned her head because she was missing things that she and her husband and family already knew were pleasures but not worth selling out for  not worth dying for they had already demonstrated their faith with the angels while they were in town surrounded by all that stuff so I never believed she was looking back because she didn't want to leave it behind

I think the preachers got it wrong   I think they used that story as an opportunity to further their agenda about evil and good and their ability to direct us in its recognition and if we pay them to think for us and pay them to save us from it they will guarantee our salvation  if we put them in charge of our lives   sounds like the pleasure of S&G doesn't it all over  selling your soul or your integrity for the temporal pleasure of not having to be responsible for an eternal answer.   I think they have used Lots wife like a whore for a really long time  those preachers

I think they missed the point of this woman
I think she looked back because she had compassion for those whom she knew to be human beings that were being burned alive
those who she laughed with in the market   those who's children she had helped teach and watch grow  her friends   her neighbors
for all the crud that Sodom and Gomorrah had in it  and the story tells us that it had a critical mass of it, inside of it still ,like yin yang in all that black there was a core of white

I think the compassion for the loss of them to their choices for what ever reason they made them:  children who had no idea what was going on     wives who would not leave their families    husbands who were afraid     animals that were innocents     young people who were in love     all the ones who either did not know about the choice, or had not studied choice, really studied the consequences fully of their actions  I think that of some of those people Lots wife knew and loved them  and the compassion in her heart made her turn back and look to see if they were following her example

and she died

she turned into a pillar of salt

something that can be of use as a seasoning or healing   or something that can also dehydrate or desiccate a living cell   lots wife became the salt of the earth

and what do you think that means? think Ill think on that for the next year or two

but mostly she got stuck    she was a pillar    an unmovable thing  caught between following her heart out of what she knew was coming  and looking back with great compassion one last time at friends that she would never see again looking back at their pain and the consequences of their actions after they had been enlightened of a new choice that up until then had never existed in the reality of their minds

In my life of limited lately but pretty thorough early exposure to those who tell the story of Lot and his wife   and after all it is a moral story   I have never heard anyone talk about the heart of a woman

how it is the compassion of a woman's heart and hands that makes her act time and again in a situation that may eventually breed a death row killer or even someone who just simply wants it all their way for once in the smallest ego squish of someone else's right to be,  it is that heart in her that makes her turn back to see if her action is being followed the way she hoped it would

they do say to abandon hope
I wonder if they were thinking of lots wife

you see maybe  she thought that one person  someone she really loved with whom she had shared her convictions and visions and light to light the way so that they could be free  maybe she looked back to see if that enlightenment that she so willing gave because that was who she was caused them at the last minute to leave also  maybe she was looking back to see the results of her actions that were directed by love and compassion 

or perhaps she was looking back because in her minds eye she was grieving the loss of all her hand work  all the effort she put into making her house a home   all the evidence of love that she was leaving behind

it is easy to stand in the pulpit or on the street and judge her for being materialistic  but I don't think it was the materials she was looking back to see  but the love and the compassion  all the love she invested in her life there
all of that love was going up in flames

compassion is the taiji that takes wuxi from itself into yin yang
because if we have compassion then we usually act  I believe it is an active word? com - passion means literally to "suffer with" isn't that active and isn't action movement and doesn't something in motion stay in motion ?  it is th e-motion of com-passion that pushes us along with lots wife into yin yang

in yin yang the product of that motion cannot be controlled if what comes from the manifestation of taiji is black or white  good or bad  it truly cannot be controlled
so when one has compassion should one never move?

does a teacher or a guide never light the way or go on ahead to prepare for those who are coming?  do we not become the daisy that we are ?
do we sit like seeds in the ground and rot ?
this is where what I call the ego of compassion takes us away ultimately from tai ji and wuxi

into yin yang
because stopping is also movement it is also doing
and doing remember makes things concrete  makes them manifest in this world
that is when ego tries to take over

thinking I can control the outcome
thinking it needs to be controlled
needing to look back to see what became of my work
thinking that it is mine
thinking that it should "work"
thinking that if we do or do not that we are doing or not doing so that we affect someone else

I told you ego was tough  and why does it matter? all this kung fu
because of ego and the cost it takes out of us and our world it burns down our house and turns us to salt

I think the temptation to look back is much more complex than the easy explanation of a whore or a materialistic centered woman sorry preachers

much more complex

and much harder to come to understand in a heart of compassion is how to keep the taiji but let go of the yin yang and go back to wuxi without turning into salt.

so don't look back relatives
why
because it will put you out of balance and move you from love and compassion and exploration and the tiny little giveaway that simply is part of the daisy growing up;
 into the yin yang of ego

and that little peeking duck my friends will kill you and perhaps even those you thought you helped

thank you to the big K wherever he is for teaching me not to look back  I finally got it
love ya
mean it
mb

Ego

Good afternoon Relatives

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Ego is like water it can take many forms and fill immediately any voids

Have you any voids relatives?

I appreciate your thoughts my Freinds.


Mb