Articles

A Love Affair Consummated

Tue, 1 Dec 2009 11:21:22 -0800

When I went to Egypt last year, I fell in love. I related the story of this relationship and how it came to pass in an article last year, called My New Love Affair.

This year, I was delighted to take a group of pilgrims with me to Egypt to meet my new love. Normandi Ellis, one of my favorite writing teachers and Egyptian scholar extraordinaire, came along as a co-leader.

When we left New York JFK Airport, I finally let myself relax a little bit. I had been holding my breath – figuratively speaking – for almost a year, hoping and praying that this tour would actually happen, and I would get to do what I had planned so long ago.

Joined by dear friends Nicki Scully, Mark Hallert, Normandi Ellis and Kathryn Ravenwood, we were leaving a few days early for the tour, so that we could take care of any business or jet-lag issues prior to the arrival of the rest of the tour.

Everything went off without a hitch, and soon all 19 members of our tour group were together in the shadow of the Pyramids. We saw the Great Pyramid, the Sphinx, and the Giza Plateau. And then we went to the building I had really come here to see, the boat museum, built for the Pharaoh’s 4500 year old Boat of the Sun, after it had been resurrected just 20 years ago by a diligent group of archeologists, from where it had been buried beside the Great Pyramid those many years ago. A beautiful cedar planked boat, with high prow and stern, the boat was tied together with a rope that shrinks when it gets wet, tightening the planks into a secure and leak-proof vessel. A house on the center section of the boat allowed its passengers to remain cool in the hot sun. Propelled by oars, it was a capable and beautiful ship. I was delighted to show it to my friends, and to have them stare in awe at the size of this vessel from Ancient Egypt.

I realized that I was still holding my breath, just a little, because as far as I was concerned, the real reason for this trip still waited far to the south, in Upper Egypt. This was just a prelude, foreplay, if you will, of the event to come.

After a long night’s journey on the train to Aswan, a short bus and then water taxi ride, at last I was once more with my love! The dahabeya Afandina had captured my heart, and now, for the first time, I was to spend eight whole days in her arms…er…upon her decks.

The crew, all 8 or 9 or more – I couldn’t ever get an accurate count- greeted us, with wide smiles and strong hands, guiding our feet as we stepped, right foot first, onto our home for the voyage. They smiled with joy at the expressions of amazement upon our faces, as we explored the various decks and rooms, delighted in the superb interior design and the excellent soft beds – so different from the hard palettes on the train.

Our luggage had arrived, and we were told to unpack, letting the suitcases be stored away for the time we were on the ship. To hang our clothing in closets, to stow away in drawers, to put our personal snack foods in the room refrigerators, to put our books beside our beds was an unexpected luxury. Small but fully functional bathrooms accompanied each room. (I never did figure out where they put all the luggage – there must be a massive hold somewhere that they can stow away the mountain of luggage that we had brought with us. It would have been better, I am sure, if we had brought less, and bought more along the way to ship home the fruits of our shopping. )

At last we were settled, the tour members were exploring the boat, and I was able to take a few moments to stand upon the upper deck and be alone with this love of mine. Forty five meters long (147.6’), 8 meters wide (26.24’), she is not a small one, only as compared to the great barge hotel boats that ply the river Nile, carrying up to 150 passengers each. Afandina carries only a maximum of 20 passengers in luxury accommodations.

I allowed myself to shift my senses, so that I was in touch with the heart of the boat, to feel the purr of the great generator that provided power. I reached out to touch the threads of her beginning, slipping back in time, past the recent journeys, past the shipyard building the hull, the shipwrights working in the hot sun to bring her into being, back to the time when she was only an idea, a glimmer in the mind of one man. Like Ptah speaking the world into being with a single word, Mohamed Nazmy had created the Afandina twice, once in thought, and then in deed. I sensed the care, the love, the consideration that each and every aspect of her creation had taken, as he sat and imagined how she would be, and then cajoled, drove, demanded that the workers create his vision, never ending in his passion for excellence. I watched as the great steel hull was built, strong enough to survive the ever-shifting sandbars of the Nile. I saw the carpenters matching the grain of the wood that would be her interior, the careful selection of the soft furnishings from couches to chairs to beds that rivaled those of the finest hotel in Cairo. I listened as the applicants for the jobs on board were interviewed, chosen for their skills and for their personalities, as well. I saw her come into being, fully functional, a great vessel awaiting the individuals that would sail with her. I watched as important people with important jobs arrived, as rich people, accustomed to luxury that took her for granted.

I moved forward in my vision to NOW, allowing my senses to stretch to the bow and the stern, to the top of the mast, and the bottom of the keel. I felt the wind gently blowing against my sails, the water continually caressing my bottom, the scrape of the small tug against my side as it was snugged tight, ready to provide the motive power to travel up the great river. A sense of power began to rise through my feet where they touched the deck, encircling my legs, and rising still, like the power of the kundalini energy rising through the chakras, I became one with the Afandina. My very existence was entwined, in that moment, with the vehicle of my dreams, as my love and I consummated an affair began long ago.

Tears flowed down my cheeks, unchecked to drip upon my breasts, and disappear in the hot Upper Egypt sun. I raised my arms, drawing to me all the power and energy that had been made available to me in that single, eternal moment of NOW, as I accepted the gifts of my lover, and gave as she would take from me. I let out my long held breath, breathing freely once more with a shudder that ran through my body. I relaxed into the depths of that connection, that consummation so devoutly desired.

With my companions, we wrote, we toured, we laughed, we shared. We became a family. We ate like kings and queens, slept in quiet anchorages along the river, explored the unique and the mundane, the sacred and the profane. We celebrated ceremonies to the Gods and Goddesses in their ancient temples, consecrating ourselves to their service. We saw many things that were a wonder to behold. We wrote a book, together.

Too soon the voyage was over, our bags repacked, forced to leave, to return to the world of the land-bound, I separated myself from Afandina, no longer sensing her every move, slight though it might be on the calm river surface. I drew back into the shell of myself, the body that seemed so small, compared to the expanded being I had become, if only for a brief week.

I have been boatless, since my husband and I sold our fifty-foot sailboat 15 years ago. A sad parting, it was then time to become land travelers. Now, I am boated again, even if only for a brief stay each year with my beloved Afandina.

Come with me this next year, and I will introduce you to my love, as we explore the temples, the people, the places along the Nile, spending time once more once more with the Dahabeya Afandina, a golden boat that will become our home. It will be a cruise to remember, as we express the gratitude for all the blessings we have received, on the blessing Afandina. Insha’Allah, Saalam Alaikum.

For more info on tours, click here:
We will be returning to Egypt on the following dates:
Nov. 22 – Dec. 6th, spending Thanksgiving on the Nile, and on the Dahabeya Afandina in for eight days.

Walking the Royal Road

Tue, 29 Sep 2009 13:29:38 -0700

Grandma opened the small, scented box. She had told me to sit quietly and she would show me a special treasure. As she lifted the lid, I could see a red silk packet inside, cunningly tied so that the silk ends looked like a flower. She stopped for a moment, holding her hand over the packet, and mumbling a few words, ending with “Amen”, before she reached in and lifted the small, oblong shape into the light of day.

Her arthritis-knotted fingers struggled a bit with untying the silk rose, I offered to help and she silenced me with a glance. She carefully unwrapped the silk until it lay in a large square on the table top between us. All I could see was a stack of cards with a design on the back. There seemed to be more cards than an ordinary deck of playing cards, and the shape was a little different, longer than usual.

Grandma had taught me how to read playing cards two years earlier, when I was six. And although my parents used them to play games, Grandma did not allow card games in her house, so even though I did not know what these cards were that she was showing me, I did know they were not meant for games.

She looked through the stack of cards before her, carefully separating them in five stacks. One stack had more cards – 22, I counted as she placed them carefully to the side of the red silk square.

The other four stacks she lined up in front of me, on the silk, face up.

And, thus began my first lesson with the Royal Road of the Tarot.

She explained how the four stacks before me were similar to the suits in playing cards, and carried similar meanings to those she had already taught me.

She set these aside, and picking up the taller stack of twenty two cards, began laying them in front of me, face up, beginning with a card that was number zero.

“This is where we all begin.” She said, pointing to a picture of a funny looking man with a knapsack over his shoulder about to step over the edge of a cliff, with a small dog nipping at his heels, trying to stop the man from falling. The words underneath spelled out The Fool.

I put my hands over my mouth and giggled, “Grampa says I can’t call someone a fool – that it is a bad name.”

Grandma smiled and told me that although I couldn’t use the word to describe another person, it was the place of innocence, yes, foolishness, where we all started our travels.

I liked the little dog in the card, saying he reminded me of my dog, Zipper, that I had lost the year before. I was a little jealous that the man on the card obviously still had his dog.

Grandma brought me back from my thoughts of my lost dog by placing the next card, The Magician, before me, and explaining that this card was my first teacher as I began to travel on the Royal Road. She told me to look at the card carefully, and to tell her what I saw in the card.

I described the card, exactly as it was printed, looking at the strange symbols he had on the table before him and what I thought they might mean.

Over the next two months, during the heat of the summer’s day in Northern Florida, each afternoon Grandma would once more teach me about the meanings. My mind quickly memorized the basic information that she taught me, and we moved on to learning how to ask questions of the cards. She encouraged me to “listen” to the card, and “hear” what the card told me about each question or situation.

We began with a simple three card layouts, signifying past, present and future, and moved on to more complicated ways of reading the cards, including a method that had been handed down by the women in her family for generations. She explained that our family had always had “the sight”, and in years to come, I might have to use this to earn a living.

She gave me a stack of blank 3x5 cards and let me draw my own set of cards. I wasn’t a very good artist, but I did love to draw and color, and this became my evening entertainment, after dinner and before bed.

By the time summer was over, I had my very own deck of cards, carefully drawn and colored with crayons. She gave me one of Grampa’s old handkerchiefs, red with a yellow stripe, to tie the cards in, and a small box that had contained cigars and still smelled of tobacco, that was just a little bigger than the card deck.

I was very proud of my deck of cards, and wanted to show everyone and read the cards for all my friends, but Grandma told me that I must keep this as our secret – that many people didn’t approve of the cards, and would be unhappy if I used them.

When my mother came to stay for a week at the end of the summer, I showed her my new “toy” that I had created, and she was very upset with Grandma, and told me to not let my daddy see them or he would throw them in the garbage. She thought it would be better if I left the cards with Grandma, and seemed frightened at what Daddy would do if he found out. Her fear was contagious, and I hid the cards well when we returned home.

As school began, and I entered the third grade, I forgot about the magic cards Grandma had helped me create, having put them in a hidden place in the back of my closet.

At the end of the school year, our family moved once more and the cards remained behind, well hidden in the closet.

I became interested in astrology that year, leading to a study of other occult subjects from numerology to hand writing analysis to a deeper study of the palmistry that my Grandma had taught me years before. I read all that I could find about the history of the different means of divination, trying them all out on my mother and my closest friends. I studied the I Ching, runes, and crystals. I created a scrying bowl by painting one of my mothers glass bowls black on the outside, and filling it with water. As my knowledge spread wider and wider, my understanding of these and other mysteries deepened.

I kept the knowledge of Tarot with me from that long ago summer, but it wasn’t for another 20 years before I took my next step on the Royal Road of Tarot.

I found a used deck of cards in the same Rider Waite pattern in an old book store, somewhere off Columbia Circle in D.C. I greeted the deck with a cry of delight, telling the friends that were with me about my Grandma and the handmade deck I had created many years before.

For some time after that, I asked the Tarot EVERYTHING! I tried to follow the guidance I received, and found that it was a good way to sort out decisions. Then someone, in a psychology class, told me about Jung and his study of the Tarot.

I began to seek out books about the Tarot in the library and at the university where I was obtaining my Master’s degree. There were not many available, but I read those that I could find.

That year my life turned upside down again, and I escaped from an angry, abusive husband with my children, a few of our clothes and little else. My Tarot cards, once more, were lost.

We fled to my parents’ home in Oklahoma, where no Tarot cards could be found. Not in the house, not in the state.

It wasn’t until many years later, and one more marriage and divorce, when I was given a new deck of Tarot cards that had just been released. Called the Motherpeace Tarot, it was a deck conceived and illustrated by Karen Vogel and Vicki Noble. I bought the accompanying book, and spent the summer relearning to read the Tarot, allowing the cards to guide and inform me. I discovered that a number of new books and decks had been created in the last 20 years, since the sixties, and I delighted in collecting new decks and learning to read for others as well as myself.

Now firmly on the Royal Road, some years later, I now own many decks of these precious cards, and always carry one or two decks with me. And here I am, after all this time, living my grandmothers prophecy and making a living by divining the future, and consulting the oracles.

When I was asked to participate in creating the Becoming an Oracle program (Nicki Scully, 2009, Sounds True, publisher) in the summer of ’08 I knew that the Tarot would be a keystone of this program. After all these years, I would be able to share what my Grandma taught me in the hot, Florida afternoons on her veranda. It has been a long and interesting trip, along the Royal Road of Tarot.

Gloria Taylor Brown

P.S. When my grandmother taught me to read and make those cards, she was breaking the law of the state of Florida, where we lived. Reading, or even selling Tarot cards was forbidden under state statutes of that time, and those laws were only repealed in the 1980’s, allowing cities and counties to determine whether there could be “fortune telling” in their district. Many areas still have existing laws that forbid the sale or usage for gain of any fortune telling device – including the Tarot!

Spirit or Ghost Bears Journey. British Columbia's Rare White Black Bears

Fri, 29 May 2009 15:53:30 -0700

This journey was created for my Shamanism 101 class on Power Animals. I offer it here for your review, and information. The class that includes this journey is available as a individual podcast.
To purchase the podcast of the complete class, click here.

Along the rugged, remote coast of British Columbia lives a population of American black bears that produces pure white bears at a remarkable frequency. These white bears are not the result of albinism, but of a unique recessive gene that produces white hair instead of black. The government has long recognized these unusual bruins, and they are protected by law from hunting. While the range of these bears is extensive, Spirit Bear park is where white bears occur with the highest frequency.

Here one out of ten bears is white! This remarkable population of black bears lives in one of the world's last pristine areas: an intact temperate rainforest that is the source of rich salmon streams.

Moksgm'ol, meaning white bear, is the Tsimshian word for the Kermode black bear (Ursus Americanus Kermodei). The Pristine Habitat of this rare bear and an incredible diversity of life make this a popular charter destination. This is one of the richest parts of the world's largest intact temperate rainforest.

The central coast of British Columbia is home to a very rare bear. The scientific name is Ursus Americanus Kermodei, or Kermode Bear, after past director of the Royal British Columbia Museum, Frank Kermode. The museum had in its possession during his directorship a white black bear; it was considered "a curiosity." A Kermode bear is a typical American black bear, except it has a white coat. This is not a population of white bears, but a population of black bears in which a high frequency of white members exist. The pure white bears are not albinos, they are the product of a double recessive gene combination selecting for white hair instead of black. Infrequent glimpses have resulted in the terms "ghost bear" and "spirit bear." Thought to be the effect of a genetic shift in an isolated population of black bears during the last ice age, this unique double-recessive gene combination has survived over thousands of years.

Kitasoo legend says that Raven, the Creator, went among the bears and turned every tenth bear white to serve as a reminder of a time when the Earth's great glaciers covered the landscape. These glaciers have been gone for ten thousand years. Today, logging threatens this population of bears. Right now, an excellent opportunity exists to view one of the world's most pristine temperate rainforest and marine ecosystems, the core habitat of the Kermode bear.

Living in a pristine temperate rainforest, completely isolated from the forces of progress, the white bears have for thousands of years lived in peace. Places like Princess Royal Island are where white bears occur most frequently within the greater black bear population. One in every ten of the black bears on this island is white. The habitat of Princess Royal and the adjacent mainland is phenomenal, moving from the ocean, up the rivers, to 5000+ foot mountaintops, supporting over 60 classified salmon streams, an annual run of steelhead trout, wolves, grizzly bears, bald and golden eagles, orca whales, dall porpoise, and rare elephant seals and marbled murrelets.

There is also an excellent book with many pictures called “White Spirit Bears” by Grandma Tess.

Shamanic Journey.

Close your eyes, and allow yourself to relax. Know that you are in a place that is close to the ocean. You may smell the tang of salt in the air. You may feel the droplets of moisture on your face. You come down a path to the edge of the water. There is a canoe waiting for you at the edge of the water. The paddlers are waiting to take you to the island which you can barely see through the fog and mist across the water. The island is beautiful and green and shows no sign of human habitation. The air is heavy with mist, almost rain, very cool and soft on your face.

As you get nearer the island, you can smell the cedars and pines growing there. The canoe bumps softly on the pebbled shore, and you hear the rocks scrape across the bottom of the dugout canoe.

You go over the bow of the boat, stepping onto the shore. You know that what you seek lives in the dark woods ahead of you and you walk towards an opening in the underbrush that grows all along the shore.

A gleam of white in the dark woods catches your eye, and you move towards it. A white raven is sitting on a downed tree. As you approach, the Raven opens his beak and the most beautiful song pours forth. You listen and the song takes on meaning as the Raven sings about the forest and the trees. He sings of hidden places, and great clearings, of sunlight and mist, of rain and wind. His song changes and he begins to sing about the animals of the forest, the deer and the squirrels, the badger and the beaver, the moose and bear, and again the song changes. Now he sings the song of the bears, the brown , the black, the cinnamon, and most of all the white ghost bears.

As he sings the story of white ghost bears, you see a bear at the edge of the clearing. A beautiful white bear. She is waiting for you. You follow her.

She is heading for a large tree. The tree is her den. She disappears into the den. Then she sticks her head back out and looks at you, as though to say, “What are you waiting for? Come on in.” You enter the den. The bear is laying on pine boughs from which she has made a bed. She holds up her paw, so that you can snuggle in close to her to be warm. As you lay there, warm and close, you realize you are no longer beside the bear, but in the bear.

You are an embryo, a baby bear. And still the bear sleeps, and dreams, and you grow and grow. Bear is dreaming you into being, you hear her humming a song of creation as she sleeps and dreams.

Finally, when the space is all gone, you are born of the sleeping bear, and right behind you, is born your brother bear.

You are very small, only 2 or 3 pounds, but you snuggle close to your mother with your brother and suckle at her breast the warm rich milk she has for you. And still she sleeps and dreams, humming a song. This is a song of spring, of growth and soft green sprouts, rich feasts of succulent flowers.

You eat and sleep, and eat and wake, and eat, and play and EAT. You grow and grow in your bears body. Your brother grows with you.

At last, your mother stirs, and smells the air. She has done this several times during the last month or two, but this time, she smells the spring air she was waiting for.

You and your brother are round and fat with your mother’s milk, but your mother is lean and hungry. She pulls the branches that have kept the den warm and goes out to forage.

At first, she leaves you and your sibling behind, but soon, she begins to take you with her so you can learn where to find the tenderest greens, the best flowers, the best foods.

You grow and grow. You play with your sibling, and learn how to be a bear. You eat where your mother eats, you sit and stay near her as you grow. She teaches you how to fish, and as the salmon returns, she shows you how to get the best fish.

As fall approaches once more, your mother looks at you sadly, and leads you deep into the forest. You go up and up until you reach a great clearing that is surrounded by giant trees. These are the oldest trees in the forest, so old, there is no undergrowth around them, so tall you can’t see but the forest branches high over your head. In the middle of the clearing, the white raven sits. He sings a song of welcome, and then as he sings, your mother bear begins to sing with him. They sing of all the plants, the trees, the animals in the forest, and as they sing, the clearing begins to fill with bears, black and white, brown and gray, cinnamon and piebald. As the bears come, they join in the song.

They sing of times past, and of times yet to come. They sing of you and your role in times to come. They sing to you and of you.

A new voice is heard, and White Buffalo comes into the circle. The song changes once more, as a woman’s voice is heard, and White Buffalo Calf Woman comes into the center of circle where you sit. Suddenly, the song is finished.

You hear the wind in the trees, but all other sounds stop.

Then, the bears come to you, and tell you what they want of you…Raven tells you what he wants you to do……Buffalo has a message for you…Then White Buffalo Calf Woman comes toward you. She has a present for you in her hands that will be your reward for doing all you are asked. She has a message for you as well….

You realize as you talk to her that you are no longer a bear. You stand, once more human with hands, and feet , and go to your mother bear. She leads you away, back down to the shore. You say good-bye to her, and your brother. Tears run down their faces as they watch you go back to the canoe that brought you so long ago. You look up, and Raven flies over head , and when you look down again, the bears are gone.

You get into the canoe, and your paddlers bring you back to this time and place.

(Yes, the photo is of a REAL white raven, not an albino. Notice the blue eyes!)

Coming Into The Wild

Tue, 5 May 2009 15:10:08 -0700

When I was a little girl in Florida, my Grampa Brown had a great garden. He grew vegetables, and herbs and flowers. But the part of his garden that I liked best was a small corner where everything grew wild. Separated by a small, foot high fence, with a little gated opening, this corner of the garden was allowed to grow exactly as it pleased. There were overhanging branches from the tree next door, and even on the warmest summer day, this area was cool and shadowy. I would go into this corner and sit and watch. Sometimes butterflies would come and sit on my finger or small animals would scurry around in the underbrush.
Every evening, my grandfather would place a small dish of food, and a bowl of milk in the wild corner. He would tell me it was for the pixies and leprechauns.
I accepted this behavior as any child does, unquestioning, until I was 6 or 7. I thought everyone had a wild corner in their garden. About this time, I was sent for the summer to stay with my other grandparents. They had a large garden on a farm that produced all of their vegetables, and enough left over to sell at the local market. But they had no wild corner. Everything was hoed, raked and the weeds were all pulled. I asked, "Where do the pixies live?" and was roughly told there was no such thing.
Since I knew my Grampa Brown knew everything, I didn't believe this, and couldn't wait to get back home to tell my parents and grandparents that Grandma Anderson didn't know about pixies! She even said there were no leprechauns. My parents roared with laughter, and told me those were just my Grandfather Brown's stories, like the stories I could read in books. But Grampa Brown said, "If you don't believe in pixies, and give them a place to live, they won't come to visit. Or if they do, they will tear things up." I knew he was right, for he always was.
This story inspired me a dozen years ago when I was Chair of Metaphysical Studies at the Centro de Creativo, near the capital of Costa Rica, San Jose. I was a delegate to the International Women's Congress to be held that year at the nearby University. I wanted to create a special event to mark the successful completion of the congress. Seventy-five women from countries across the globe came to our small school grounds on a beautifully clear tropical night to celebrate the full moon and to experience their wildness. As we ended the circle, I began a "howl" and encouraged others to join in. For 15 minutes, the sound of women howling at the moon rose up to the heavens. All the neighboring dogs joined in. It was a beautiful, wild sound.
Later, many of the women came to me, and told me that this experience had been the first time they had EVER contacted that wildness that lives in all of us. Some shared that they were sure we would be arrested.
I found this so sad. Here were these bright, wonderful women from many countries who were terribly frightened to have a simple howl at the moon.
I thought about the story of my grandfather's garden again, when I began preparing to teach Wild Women! at the Women of Wisdom Conference in 2002. At first, I had envisioned this class as a way for women to transcend the tame and ordinary lives they lived as "good girls" and "nice ladies." I wanted them to get in touch with that wild, untamed corner of themselves, where spirit lives. I wanted them to experience their Amazon power and embrace the wildness that I was sure was hidden in every one of them.
Then, 9/11 occurred. Suddenly, everything was much more frightful. People were terrified by what had come in out of the wild. How could I get women to explore their own wild nature, when terrorists threatened to blow apart the world we knew and loved?
I regrouped. I rewrote. I took out "Confronting the Beast Within", removed "Where the Burrowing Creatures Live" as too scary, too much for them to experience in such a short class. In fact, I wimped out. I rigidly hoed and raked my class, until what weeds were left could easily be pulled up by my participants. Maybe I made the right choice, for the class went well, and everyone seemed very satisfied with the results. Except me. I was unhappy with my performance, and what we had achieved as a group. It just wasn't enough. The wild had no where to live in that cold, cavernous, hotel meeting room we had used. The wild is where nature can grow exactly as it pleases, just as in the corner of my grandfather's garden. I had pulled up some of my wild plants and tried to make my seminar safe and free of weeds. I realized this came from my own fears.
So I vowed to let my teachings grow wild again. I determined to present these classes in natural settings near brooks and streams, where the creatures of the forest and wild birds live. There we could discover the wild flowers and animals, the weeds, and the powers of nature as expressed by our Mother Earth. There, we could safely discover and express our own wildness without being afraid. Since then I have presented this class in several incredible wild and wonderful places.
You see, the wild can be scary. We are trained from birth to suppress our wilder urges. And in order to live in a society there must be some rules, some agreement of civilized behavior. And yet….when you push the wild out of your life so completely, it has to find other places to live. If it can't be in you - then it will exist outside of you and be much scarier than coming to terms with that inner wildness, for no matter how hard we try to weed it out, it is still there. My grandfather knew this, and gave it a place to live and something to eat, so that it never took over the whole garden.
For in that wild, shadowy part of ourselves lives great power and great spirit. When we try to suppress and marginalize it, we end up losing a part of ourselves. We each need to have a wild corner, a place where pixies live, in the well tended garden of our souls.
Explore your wildness. Go on hikes into nature, swim with dolphins, howl with wolves, walk in the woods. Create a place where you can explore the wild, in yourself, and in your world.
We were never meant to live a tame, sedentary, boring life all the time. We are designed to seek the thrill of adrenaline, the rush that comes with excitement, the quickened pulse of doing something that scares us. This is what being physical is all about! Moving our bodies, exploring the physical world, creating a life filled with passion and purpose. This is where the power of the wild can come into our civilized world and be harnessed to help us get where we want to go. When we marginalize, ostracize and deny it, it comes through as disease, and unhappiness, violence against ourselves and others, for the wild will always find a place to live.

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Improve Your Business, Improve Your Life

Mon, 4 May 2009 15:06:52 -0700

Step # 1 - Get Rid of Clutter
-Clutter stops your brain from functioning at its peak level. It is those piles of books you haven't read, have read, or maybe will read sometime in the future. Shelve them, sell them, read them, or donate them to library sale. It is the piles of folders and notes that belong in folders, the post-its and the articles you cut out of magazines to save. Put the folders in file cabinets, and file those things that need filing. It is the clothes that aren't folded or hung, as well as the myriad other little things we surround ourselves with. It all drains your energy, creates a negative force in your life, and keeps you from getting on with your work and your life.
In Feng Shui there is a recommendation to get rid of 9 things a week for 9 weeks. Although I am not a practitioner of that art, this seems like a good idea to me.
In order to cut the spiritual ties you have with the things you chose to release, sit with each object for a brief time. Acknowledge how it has served you on your path, and bid it good-bye. Now here is the hard part - get it out of the house as fast as possible before you decide you couldn't possibly live without it.
Reducing or eliminating clutter is an ongoing process for most of us. So start with just one area, and get that area under control, then move on to other areas in your house or office. Eventually, you will have it all clutter free and you will find your life will become simpler and easier to deal with. One friend of mine took this process to the extreme, getting rid of everything extraneous to her chosen life style. After three months, she realized that she had reduced her need for living space from a 3 bedroom house to something much smaller. At that pint she decided to release the house, and to allow her perfect place to live to manifest. Less than one week later, she was offered a large one room house on the waterfront. She took the opportunity and now lives happily in the amount of space she used to use for storage alone. As an added bonus, her company offered her a new position that required her to travel and live in Europe for up to three months at a time. Realizing that her house would not take the time and attention her old house had, she accepted the new position, with much better pay, and travels an lives in Europe with the same simplicity she has found at home.
For myself, I have found that I am much more creative when I don't have the remains of two or three projects staring me in the face, every time I go to work.
Since I work from a home office, this is very important to me. It is much easier to deal with clients, produce great advertising campaigns, and develop great graphic design, when I know where everything is, and don't have to search through piles of paper to find the napkin I outlined the plan on, 2 months ago. Frequently, I would find that I hadn't looked well enough when I threw something out, and the very thing I wanted was long gone- form memory and my life.
Now that I have revealed the perfidious industry in which I work, I can assure you that the Advertising Council of America would not support all the ideas in this article. Advertising is designed to make you believe that your life will not be complete without the new gadget, car, clothes, anything you name. The problem is that as soon as you buy it, and use it, your life is just the same, only now you are more encumbered than before. One way to reduce clutter is to go on a shopping diet. Now this is a really radical idea: buy nothing you don't need for the next three months. To reduce it even further - buy only consumables such as food and paper goods.
While you are working to reduce the clutter factor in your life and work, realize that there will be times when you feel overwhelmed, when the papers seem to be reproducing behind your back, and it is a conspiracy to keep you mired in a world of clutter. When you feel this way, just recognize it, and let it go.

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Finding Your Gold Mine - A True Story

Sun, 3 May 2009 15:03:52 -0700

A friend of mine's family was cursed by having inherited a gold mine
Three generations were affected, so far. The grandfather found the gold mine when he was a young man and supported his family in a manner to which they quickly became accustomed. Raised in the belief that the gold mine would always provide for them and their families, they were devastated when rising labor cost made the mine uneconomical.
Grandfather died, some say of a broken heart, and his son pursued various schemes to return the family to wealth.
He produced three daughters, whom he raised to believe that eventually the gold mine would once more be profitable, and they would all be provided for.
Eventually, the price of gold outstripped the cost of mining and the gold mine was put back into operation.
The father enjoyed his reestablished wealth, travelling to distant countries, buying cars and other toys.
The daughters watched as their father spent and spent. Although he continued to promise them that this legacy would one day be theirs, they saw little of the money.
Because the father had been raised to believe that the gold mine would provide forever, he did not invest in the future, but spent in the present.
Still, my friend expected that one day the gold mine would be hers. Although she had established her own business, she did not want to plan for the future, learn to control finances, build her business with the expectation that it would be a gold mine of her own.
After all, she was going to inherit a gold mine. Her father said so.
Then, she received a call from her mother. "the gold mine is played out," her mother said, " there is no more gold in the claim."
"What happened to all the money you and Dad got out of the mine over the last 20 years?" she asked, afraid she knew the answer.
"It's basically gone. We have our house, and a small retirement fund that will take care of us if we are careful, but that's it." Her mother seemed resigned, obviously she had known this was coming for some time.
This news hit my friend a ton bricks. The gold mine was gone. There would be no more rescues from her family. In fact, since her father had never learned how to spend carefully, it looked like she might have to rescue her parents some time in the future. Her father is too ill to work now, and her mother has never worked.
How could this happen? How could she be so abandoned? She raged against her father for spending all the money foolishly, she blamed her mother for not controlling her father better, but most of all, she sorrowed over the end of her dream. What could she do now?
When I first began hearing the stories of this family and it's gold mine, I thought, "Wow! Wouldn't that be great."
Now, some time later, I know the answer to that question. No, it isn't great. In fact it is devastating.
For three generations, these people ignored all evidence that this outside force- this gold mine - would not last forever. Cost go up, prices go down, ore runs out.
They ignored the need to find their own gold mine, the gold mine that would always produce results, always provide them with wealth. The mine I am talking about is their own inner gold mine.
By developing the skills, the talents and the resources each one of us has in great abundance, we can each have a great reserve of gold, easily available to us any time we need it.
We cannot find this outside of ourselves, for in depending on the outward manifestation, we doom ourselves to disappointment.
So many times I have heard people say " when I get this, everything will be perfect." It is always an outside determinate that is named. A new car, a new husband or wife, a new house, a certain amount of money in their bank account, are just some of the things people claim will make life perfect.
Our entire advertising and marketing industry is based on this false belief. And on the truth, that new cars become old cars, people outgrow houses, and no bank account is ever large enough.
By depending on outward symbols of wealth, we lose sight of the gold mine we already have. A gold mine of immense power and wealth that will produce profits for all our days.
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A Pathway to Personal Growth

Sat, 2 May 2009 14:58:25 -0700

When I was four years old, I used to line up my dolls, and play “school”. I would solemnly instruct them from my books and what I learned at Sunday School. I was encouraged by my grandparents, who would sit with my dolls, and listen to my lessons. My grandmother, who practiced many forms of divination including Bibliomancy*, told me when I was only six years old that each of us are described in the Book of Proverbs** in the Bible, and the verse corresponding to our birth date would be an indication to our future. For men it is in Chapter 21, for women it is in Chapter 31. For my birthday, the 26th, the proverb reads “She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue.” I asked what this meant, and Grandma said it meant I would be a teacher. I thought this was the highest calling anyone could answer, and was delighted with the prospect.
As I grew up I learned more about Bibliomancy, as well as many other paths to divination. While my grandmother started my learning about the Mysteries, I enthusiastically read and studied many subjects on my own.
These early experiences sent me on a path towards being a professor in an eastern university 20 years later. But it was not to be. For professors, although some are great teachers, must also be capable of functioning within the rigorous limitations of the school bureaucracy. I could not, for I was fascinated with many subjects far beyond those allowed in schools at that time. I left teaching behind, I thought, to pursue a career in business and the arts.
Although I may have thought I left teaching, teaching was not done with me. I found that in every career, there are always opportunities to instruct others, and there are many forms of school other than the university structure. I began with past life regression courses, added dream workshops, moved on to creating explorations into the Mysteries, such as The Goddess Way and Wild Women!
And from leading my groups I learned a truth about myself. No matter what my role appeared to be, I was always a student as well. For in every class I taught, I frequently learned more from my students than they knew. In their stories, their discoveries, their joy and pain, I learned and explored new landscapes of human thought and emotion.
As time went by, I found there was a particular kind of study, a format, if you will, that served best to deepen the knowledge of all involved. Whether as student or as teacher, I found I learned the most when I was involved in a continuing series of classes with a group of committed individuals for a minimum of one year.
In these kind of committed classes we see each other on a regular basis through the year. We transform and we grow as individuals and as a group. The power of gathering together in a regular manner to pursue a course of study and personal growth, creates a synergistic energy that lifted us all higher than we had expected to go.
Miracles have occurred in every year long program I know- great miracles, small miracles, incredible, healing miracles. In my first program I attended, I met my soul mate, whom I am still with 22 years later and we are still just as much in love. I have seen people create new lives, like Susan, who thought she wanted a career as a dancer, but found she was still trying to please her mother, and that what she really wanted to do was be a carpenter. In another group, a severely abused woman, Caron, discovered the strength to leave the abusive situation she was in and create a new life as the director of a shelter for abused women and children. In my most recent group, one man has reclaimed the business that was stolen from him by unscrupulous buyers and has begun to turn the business around, saving the jobs of his loyal employees. Another woman is using the power of the group to help her succeed in kicking a drug habit that kept her enchained for the last 17 years. These are just a few of the miracles I have witnessed and participated in over the last 25 years.
In my current group, I find that I am moving to a place new to me, where my relationship with the Neters, with Spirit, has become a melding, where my access to Spirit has become unlimited. I can find no separation, and in that union, I find great joy. Realizing that I am part of all that is, at a cellular level, far beyond just intellectual knowledge, has created in me an understanding of life and existence that surpasses anything I have ever expected to learn by myself. As I delve deeper and deeper in the Mysteries, I find I know more and understand less. And this is good.
The transformative outcomes of these groups could not be plotted or planned, by teacher or student. You cannot anticipate the many healings, the new relationships or the magic that occurs naturally from this form of study – but I have come to expect miracles to occur, almost on a daily basis.
Why have I told you all this?
Because I want to make a recommendation to anyone who would deepen their soul connections. Find a teacher and join a group of like-minded individuals, who meet on a regular basis and make a one year commitment to that group and the subject matter. Whether it is Alchemical Healing, Egyptian Mysteries, or some other subject entirely, the practice of regularly coming together in a process dedicated to personal growth and knowledge will transform your life. You cannot control or predict the results of this transformation, you can only experience it.
Come and join together in a glorious exploration of the universe. As each of us raises our personal vibration, we raise the vibration of the planet, creating a new existence not only for ourselves, but for our world. Maybe we can even create Peace on Earth.

* Bibliomancy is the art of divining by opening the Bible (or other sacred book) at random and reading the answer to a question or a prophecy of the future.
** If you want to look up your verse, and don’t have a Bible handy, http://www.biblegateway.com is a very good place to look up information. You can chose from a number of translations under the advanced search feature.

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Let Your Light Shine

Fri, 1 May 2009 14:28:05 -0700

The excitement backstage was palpable, one little girl had already thrown-up and been removed still crying by her distraught mother. I was one of the six remaining little girls, aged 4-6, all dressed in perfect white dresses, with yellow hair ribbons. It was the Sunday after Easter and the church was full. My grandmother placed her hands on my shoulders and whispered in my ear, “You’ll do fine, my dear, I am very proud of you.” She gave me a hug and pushed me into line, second from the end. A moment later, the choir director motioned for us to come on stage. With much shuffling of feet and a minimum of giggling, we were in front of the congregation. This was my debut, my first time on stage, and I was terrified! I was also very excited. We began singing,“This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine….”
We each held up an index finger, pretending it was a candle, with our other hand shaped like a basket that we removed. We sang the song, ending with a flourish with our hands fully open beside our faces, spreading our arms as we sang, “Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine!”
The minister came on stage, and his rolling orator’s voice began his sermon with the words “From the mouths of little babes…”. The congregation smiled as we were led offstage to our waiting parents and grandparents who greeted us with hugs and kisses. “Grandma,” I whispered, “I remembered all the words!”
What I did not realize is that I had not heard the message.
For the next 25 years, I did my best to hide my light. I played dumb when others thought I was too smart. I carefully avoided anything that would draw attention to me, until my early thirties, when I wasn’t sure I still had a light inside. I even considered snuffing out that light completely, my existence had become so bleak. When life seemed to reach its darkest point, I was blessed by meeting someone who not only could see my light, but also was able to make me believe in myself, once more. He was able to love me and help me kindle a new brilliance so that I could begin to shine my light.
Still, I was shy, and concerned that if I would “be seen” somehow I would be harmed. I continued to hide my light from most people. I still hadn’t gotten the message.
Then, one winter day, I had a very clear vision of myself as a lighthouse, shining a guiding light out into the darkness. What does this mean?, I wanted to know. My spirit guides told me that this was a role that I could assume. How could I do this? “Teach”, they said. Weren’t there enough people already out there teaching? In fact, it seemed to me that there was an overabundance of teachers in the world, why should I have to assume this role? Besides, other people were already teaching the subject matters I knew how to teach, how could I compete with these established individuals? What if I led people astray from their true path? “No lighthouse worries about any other lighthouse”, I was told gently, “each shines their light, to the best of their ability, knowing that as a ship travels down the coast, it will encounter many lighthouses. Some of them it will pay attention to because they are on the boat’s course, others it will not heed, for those are off course”.
I mulled this information over for a long time, not acting on it, still keeping my light hidden. All my insecurities came to the fore, and I could think of a million reasons not to follow my guidance. “What is the worst that could happen?” a voice asked. “I could fail,” I answered immediately.
Suddenly it was blindingly clear to me that I could not fail. By being on this earth, and living my life the best way I knew how, I was a teacher, no matter what I called myself. The lesson I had to teach was the one I had to learn. I realized my life’s mission: to shine my light as brightly as possible, knowing that for someone coming out of the darkness, this might be the only thing they had to save them.
I began to shine my light, letting others see me. Soon more and more opportunities came my way, and I found the more I let others see, the greater the light I had to show. I began to realize that there were many others like me, hiding their lights under a series of bushel baskets. I began working with them, to help them remove the “baskets”, helping them create a new image of themselves. I found that I could provide them with the knowledge of where to get more fuel, so that their lights could grow brighter and brighter. Today, when I am teaching before my student groups, I always hug that little girl inside me and remind both of us that we finally learned the message contained in that simple song.
Now, my message is simple: that each and every one of you to let your individual light shine. You have chosen to incarnate at this time, because the world needs your contribution. You were born with a mission and it is an important one. Your mission is to be the best you can be as a human being, as an example for others, and as a steward here on earth. This is a mission only you can fulfill. There is only one of you, and you are indeed a chosen one. Let your light shine, let all of our lights shine, that we may chase away the darkness. For the one who sees your light may have no other guidance to bring them safely back to homeport. Become a lighthouse, and let it shine!
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My New Love Affair

Sun, 30 Nov 2008 11:14:20 -0800

Many years ago, I fell in love with Egypt. My affair with this great love has survived many other lovers, three husbands and fifty years. This last November, I fell in love again. My new love’s name is Afandina and she is beautiful. Her name means guardian spirit in Arabic.

I first saw her at a distance last year when we were in Aswan, in Upper Egypt. She was floating on the Nile, seductively beckoning. I was unable to get closer to her then, and had to be satisfied with dreams of her.

This year, at a time of crisis, Afandina came to our rescue and provided shelter when there was none.

We were in Luxor, and had just finished a lovely four day cruise down the Nile on the Sun Goddess. It was time to move to the five star hotel, the Sonesta St. George (another of my loves) for a 3 day stay. Hatum, our Quest Travel representative, was horrified to discover that due to construction problems, there was no room at the inn! What was he going to do with 45 pilgrims who were expecting deluxe accommodations? After much discussion, phone calls back and forth, he convinced the other tours at the St. George to consolidate their single rooms into doubles, and the St. George managed to find room for 30 pilgrims. 30! We were 45 – where were the rest to sleep – there was no rooms available anywhere in Luxor!

However, Hatum, like the magic genie that he resembles, knew that he had resources beyond the normal. And so he called on Afandina, that she might shelter his poor homeless pilgrims.
Afandina arrived at the St. George with little fanfare, and after some juggling for space, prepared to receive her guests. Her brightwork shining, her sails at rest, Nicki and I went aboard for the first time. It was truly love at first sight, at least for me. You see, Afandina is the new dhahabeya built by Mohamed Nazmy of Quest Travel to the absolute best marine standards. http://www.spiritquesttours.com/photos/the_afandina/

Large enough to accommodate 16 comfortably, she happily housed our homeless pilgrims during their stay in Luxor.

I, however, was not one of them. Due to my position as co-leader, Nicki and the rest of her staff, including me, were forced to make do with the President’s Suite at the hotel.

Every morning, I would wake and look longingly from my fifth floor balcony at the lovely Afandina. Every evening, I would say goodnight with love in my heart.

On the evening the tour was going to Luxor Temple, we went for a sail on Afandina in the afternoon. It was so lovely.

For years, I have used a sail on the Nile as a way to go to sleep. When insomnia strikes, I would contact Thoth, usually found down by the river fishing, and ask him to take me for a boat ride. Sometimes, he would use a small boat that he would pole through the reeds, but other times, when he had lessons to teach me, he would use a beautiful river boat, with its chanting oarsmen and open, sunny deck, where we would sit in luxurious chaises, sipping tea and chatting. This method worked better than any sleeping pill, and I would soon drift off to sleep.

So, as Afandina sailed along in the sunset, it was truly a dream come true for me. A dream, regretfully that was cut all too short by our arrival back at the dock.

Why am I telling you all this? Because I want to go back and be with my love and I want to know if you would be interested in going with me.

I would like to take a very special group of pilgrims to Egypt, a group that would enjoy spending seven of the 15 nights on this beautiful boat. We would not get all the private viewing privileges at the temples of the larger groups, but we would have an incredible experience that is normally reserved for the rich and famous, presidents and kings. (Afandina is normally chartered to the well-to-do seeking a private experience on the Nile, away from the common people on the cruise boats.)
Nicki and I have contacted our dear Normandi Ellis, and have almost convinced her that we could do a special writer’s workshop during a tour of Egypt, using the Afandina as our schoolroom. Many of you know Normandi through the Egyptian Mysteries classes, and her books, which includes Awakening Osiris, her poetic translation of the Egyptian Book of the Dead. What you may not know is that she is an incredible creative writing teacher. She could teach a stone how to write, beautifully and fluently!

Now, it is up to you – would you be interested in joining Normandi and I in a tour like no other tour of Egypt? We would spend the same time as the usual Shamanic Journeys tour in the temples and monuments, and in addition, we would provide opportunities for you to create your written masterpiece.

The tour would be from Oct. 13th to the 27th, 2009, with seven days and six nights on the Nile with my new love, Afandina.

Come and fall in love, for I want to share her with you. We will play queens and kings of the Nile, as we pass by the peons forced to suffer on the luxury cruise ships, wave at our adoring admirers along the banks and have afternoon tea on the deck. And we will create marvelous literature, together and separately.