Monday, December 8th, 2008

Looking back is an interesting thing for me.  I can see so far when I look toward the horizon of time that the my many lives look like waves in an immense ocean.  And when I focus closer in I see a life that seems unreal…a dream I dreamed one long night.  How could my life really have contained so much?  Surely reality is an interpretation.  Looking at all of this beauty, whose marks of pain even look exquisite from here, I am reminded…no matter my concerns, that my future too will always be touched by this grace.  It is what lives beneath everything, even those things whose surfaces do not show it.

I am asked often what I see.  What I see for the future of the world.  I see magic.  I see magic being born into matter from the center of our hearts.  That is where we will find peace…in the center of our hearts.  All we must do is remember that the things that draw us away from that center need not, and if they do it is always only to draw us back.  Then we can stop being hard on ourselves for living.

Because when all else fails, and the night is long, you can know that all you are feeling is worth something.  It isn’t senseless and mistaken.  It is your soul finding liberation through life…and it will indeed find it.  This life can be brutal…completely and heart-breakingly brutal.  But the sweetness is even more relentless, no matter how long we sometimes wait it will find us out.  It will search for us through lifetimes and pound us harder with bliss than we imagined we could ever know.  It will re-create us…we are re-creating ourselves.

Get ready to blossom.  Get ready for all the repression of the seed walls and the growing pains of the sprouting to fade.  Get ready for the sun to dissolve your defenses.  Life is coming to show you why you came, and what it was all for.  In the meantime make art.  Make it with your body, your heart, and your mind.  Make it with your moments, your face, and your habits.  Make it with your words, and your gestures, and your choices.  Rise when you are called by the diety of your soul, and fall when the wave releases you and there is nothing to do but give in.  And then give in with everything you have.

You are being reborn…again.  Many will gather to witness the birth of your new light in the world.  Let them watch.  You will be fascinated even by yourself.  The miracle is in you.  Rest now.  Make a soft space in your mind and a respite in your heart.  You have done well, and the rest is up to the universe.  It will come.

Love, Jennifer

Friday, November 21st, 2008

I don’t know what it was that day… perhaps I had been on the computer too long…but somehow I had fallen just a little away from myself. It is amazing to me that it doesn’t take much to find oneself there, and that we don’t often notice that we are out of sync until we get back in…but it is even more incredible to me how easy it is to get back in alignment.

That day, for me, it just took wandering out my front door and into the woods. Suddenly I was singing, without even trying or meaning to. I was making up songs the way we do when we are children. I was watching mushrooms peek out of the corners made of tree stumps and earth. I was delighting at the way cleanly-lit driftwood fell in patterns around my moving body as I stumbled happily onto the beach. I was thrilling on fire-engine red madrona berries bursting out of muted backgrounds. I was alive…in new ways…in seconds.

In the Visionary Oracles Circle recently, an intuition course I am teaching right now, a woman shared that she sometimes has a hard time identifying herself as an “Oracle” because rather than being “one who remembers” she feels like she is more often “one who forgets.” I told her that one who remembers is one who forgets…and remembers and forgets again, and again. Being an Oracle, I said, is in the dance, in the ocean wave, between the two. An Oracle is not just one who remembers, but one who can “travel the worlds” between remembering and forgetting, and help others do the same. Indeed, what distinguishes an Oracle is the desire…the soul-wrenching yearning to remember, no matter how many waves of forgetting come and consume it at times. It is the drive to come back home to oneself, rather than the ability to never leave that space. Oracles are gatherers of experience. They have to understand forgetting in order to help others bridge the worlds, and therefore they have to experience it. It is finding the kernel of remembering in the seed of all things that we seek.

We are lost, and found. We rise, and fall. Like ocean waves we roll in passionately, and recede with grace. Neither is more profound. Like the moon we wax, and wane. The dark time is as powerful as the light. We rejoice in the fullness when it comes, and let go into the next form as we are asked to by our deepest souls. There is no other option but resistance, and resistance to the ocean of the soul is futile. These cycles are not part good and part evil, part right and part wrong, part pretty and part ugly…they are a whole whose greater essence envelopes all of it. It is all right.

So as I move between the other worlds and this one, as I ride the ever-growing waves of intensity and change in the world at this time…as I fluxuate between feeling drawn slightly away from myself, and then back more powerfully than before, I use my best Oracle tools…and they illuminate the way home every time. I just step outside my door into the world of nature, find a way to move my body, laugh, cry, write, sing, speak…I just make an art form of life, of love, and of dancing between the dimensions….embracing even the journeys that seem to take me off track…finding the way they draw a new trail on the map of forgetting…tracing the line from that place to remembering. We are all doing this…re-weaving the remembering this way.

We are, at one moment, like Echo…the nymph who could never make her own words but only repeat those said to her, and at the next like Narcissus, only seeing our reflection in one place and too lost in it to see anything more. But there is always the moment we look up and see the sky again, knowing our reflection is something much bigger…and then the voice we lost is ours again, and the trip across the stream to what we yearn for is very short.

Here is to being lost, and found.

Love, Jennifer