Saturday, May 20, 2006 ~ Louisville, Colorado
Two events, each reminding me how important it is to trust the divine flow that is always at play in my life, regardless of what I try to figure out....
Two weeks ago, I was in Oceanside, California, about 40 miles north of San Diego. As you read in my previous post, it's a favorite place of mine...or, at least, the pier is.
My plan had been to stay in Southern California and write my screenplay. A place to do that had materialized suddenly and synchronistically... then dissolved just as quickly.
Yet, even before my plan fell apart, I was feeling a pull toward Colorado. And once that particular California locale wasn't happening, I booked a week's private writing retreat at Sunrise Ranch, a retreat center north of Denver run by the Emissaries of Divine Light.
My new plan was to spend a few days in Sedona with my daughter, some time in Albuquerque and Santa Fe, and the week leading up to Memorial Day at Sunrise. From there, I expected to return to California via Santa Fe and Sedona.
I was sitting in a cafe in Albuquerque last weekend, flipping through the city's alternative weekly, when I happened upon an ad for something called The Screenwriting Conference in Santa Fe - taking place when? You guessed it: pretty much the same post-retreat dates I had planned to spend in Santa Fe.
I have since registered, and I'll be there.
It would have been easy dismiss the call to leave California for Colorado. There are plenty of retreat centers on the coast, including another run by the Emissaries.
I didn't have to drive 1,350 miles at today's gas prices, just to write in peace.
But I did.
Had I not, I would have missed the conference opportunity and whatever arises from it.
I'm at the brand-new Apple Store in nearby Broomfield this morning, having my keyboard replaced. As the technician works on my laptop, I overhear the fellow next to me talking intently to Apple's support center on his cell phone.
"The name is Gerson," he says. "Miles Gerson."
My jaw drops.
Gerson is not a common name. It's unlikely he's a relative. There are more Gersons out there who are not family than who are. And none, to my knowledge, is in the U.S.
Still, what are the odds of me sitting next to another M. Gerson in an Apple Store in north Denver?
Here's the crazy part: I wait to talk to him, to introduce myself. But his crisis call to Apple lasts longer than I feel comfortable hanging around. Eventually, I leave, with him still on the phone.
I know the encounter is meaningful. Yet 12 hours later, my mind has come up with nothing other than the fact that his name is Miles and I've traveled tens of thousands of them. You know: Miles Gerson.
Fact is, I don't have to understand what it means. Perhaps I'll learn later on, as I did with the call to come to Colorado. Perhaps I never will.
All I can do is surrender to that divine flow, to trust the God Source that guides me...to get out of my own way...in my writing as in my life.
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Saturday, May 20, 2006 ~ Louisville, Colorado
Wednesday, May 17, 2006 ~ Santa Fe, New Mexico
There’s nothing impossible in this world, although probabilities certainly come into play when we think about trying to fly, move through walls or walk on water.
For me, there’s something about Oceanside Pier (California’s longest public pier, just north of San Diego) that bridges that gap, that makes the improbable seem easily possible.
Whenever I step onto its wooden planks and walk its 1,942 feet — over and past the beach, past the waves, past the surfers and out onto open sea — I always get a sense that the pier isn’t really there, that nothing stands between me and the water. And if I can walk on water, well, everything is possible.
It's the perfect energy as I prepare for Sunday's final teleconference in my 7 Initiations of Mastery series. For what is mastery but the act of making possible the improbable?
You can view a larger version of this drawing, titled "Walking on Water," or purchase a copy, on my web site.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Thursday, May 4, 2006 ~ Oceanside, California
As I wake up this morning, a song from the Disney film Aladdin runs on continuous loop through my head: A whole new world... / A dazzling place I never knew...
It's the perfect coda to the Andrew Lloyd Webber lyric that woke me two weeks ago: Nothing in the world will ever be the same...
These past two weeks, much of it spent on the Monterey Peninsula, have changed everything and I find myself now facing a whole new world...an unknown world where nothing looks the way it used to.
I spent most of those two weeks in the fog - inner and outer. The fog that ceaselessly hugged the Monterey shore enfolded me, creating a welcome container for the void that my inner fog had created.
Then on Sunday (the day of the fifth of my 7 Initiations of Mastery, into the Way of the Illuminator), the fog finally lifted and sunlight began to illuminate the coast.
My inner fog, too, began to burn off that day and my light began to illuminate a new direction for my life. Or to put it more honestly, I began to surrender more fully to a direction I already knew about.
I said at the start of the 7 Initiations of Mastery (which has been at least as transformative for me as it has been for participants!) that in order to step into our mastery, we have to be prepared to give up everything, to wipe the slate clean of who we are and what we have been.
For me, that process has accelerated since I launched the teleconference series on April 2.
First to go were my regular teleconferences, then my trip back east, then the regular newsletters, then my participation in this month's Fountainhead Symposium in Phoenix. Even my posts to this blog have fallen away. And for some time, I have been sensing that my private sessions would soon also vanish.
Through this period of letting go, I haven't known whether these things were in suspension or gone for good.
I still don't know.
What I do know is this: All my energies right now are required for the new project that has pressed itself into my life.
For the next few months, I will be focusing on writing. Specifically, I will be working on a screenplay of my novel, The MoonQuest.
Too many signs, signals and synchronicities are guiding me in that direction right now for me to ignore. And despite the creative and financial fears that this project elicits, all I can do is trust that in surrendering to my heart's desire, I will be supported - in all ways.
At a practical level, this means that teleconferences won't be returning in the medium term. It also means no newsletters and, likely, few blog entries. It's too easy for this kind of writing to distract me from the other.
I have also been guided to give up private sessions. (If you want one, you'll have to book it before the end of May. I've altered the pricing somewhat to make shorter sessions possible. You'll find details on my web site.)
For the time being, I will continue to offer energy portraits, but they will no longer be accompanied by a private session.
As I step away from this aspect of the work that has brought us together, I can't do so without first thanking you - for your love, your encouragement and your support.
We're all masters...not over anyone else but as human expressions of our divinity, our godliness and our light. Anything I've done to help you awaken yours has been an honor and a privilege.
The MoonQuest, too, is about mastery. And I look forward to its message reaching a broader audience through this next phase of my work.
P.S. Just before I post this item, I pull a card from Doreen Virtue's Magical Mermaid and Dolphin Cards.Accept Heaven's Help, it proclaims....always an important reminder, particularly as we step into the unknown!
Sunday, April 30, 2006 ~ Pacific Grove, California
Asilomar is a name created from the Spanish words meaning refuge and sea. Yet, unlike the calm waters of neighboring Monterey Bay, the ocean here roils constantly against rocks both seen and unseen.
The waters - and the lighthouse that warns sailors against them - would seem to offer neither refuge nor safety, would seem to mock their name and the very notion of foundation.
Yet the ocean’s passionate churnings remind me that this is less a retreat from the world than an opportunity to connect with the source of life, the waters of life, the passion of life...and that it is that very passion that is our source, our refuge and our foundation.
You can view a larger version of this drawing, titled "New Foundation," or purchase a copy, on my web site.
Saturday, April 29, 2006 ~ Pacific Grove, California
Long before any dolphins showed themselves on my dolphin/whale watch tour of California’s Monterey Bay last Sunday, I sensed their presence.
Most particularly, I sensed a small pod of dolphins swimming within me. The dolphins followed a DNA-like route that began at the soles of my feet, spiraled up to the top of my head, then returned to my feet. This pattern repeated more times than I could count as our boat chugged around the bay on its quest for physical whales and dolphins.
My conscious awareness of this activation had dissolved by the time hundreds of Pacific white-sided dolphins and northern right whale dolphins found us, about 90 minutes into our three-hour tour. And what a joyous and emotion-filled reunion it was!
You can view a larger version of this drawing, titled "Dolphin DNA," or purchase a copy, on my web site.
Thursday, April 27, 2006 ~ Pebble Beach, California
We shall not, we shall not be moved
We shall not, we shall not be moved
Just like the tree standing by the water
We shall not be moved.
~ traditional folk song
The Lone Cypress has stood on this rocky promontory overlooking the Pacific Ocean for more than 250 years.
A symbol of strength and endurance in the face of elemental forces, it has also adapted to those same forces by allowing its profile to be sculpted by powerful coastal winds.
You can view a larger version of this drawing, titled "The Sentinel," or purchase a copy, on my web site.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006 ~ Pacific Grove, California
This year’s heavy spring rains have generated an explosion of green in the mountains and valleys of California’s Central Coast. Encountering this verdant lushness last week after four months in the high deserts of the drought-stricken Southwest both revitalized and reinvigorated me.
That luxuriance also enfolded me. As I followed the Cuyama River on State Route 166 through the mountains to Santa Maria, the Earth’s nurturing and protective embrace was total.
At the same time I was struck by how much more fully and freely creation expresses itself here. In the desert, struggle is the hallmark of growth. Here, extravagant fertility holds the promise of easy abundance - in all its forms.
You can view a larger version of this drawing, titled "Earth Mother," or purchase a copy, on my web site.