CHANGE

"I changed my mind - and not because I am a Woman

I changed because I was exposed to another view.

I changed because I learned differently and was given a chance to change.

I changed because I was open and then accepted a new way to see my reality.

I changed because I can" 

-debbie lynn

It's funny how we try to hold on to beliefs and concepts as if they were the only possession we own - yet when we decide to dedicate our life to being open and to live fully in the midst of our own chaotic moments, those old beliefs and concepts become archaic and completely void.

Rising to the moment is as beautiful as it is scary. 

We tilt and we warp our personal view as we see fit or as the ego consumes the situation; that is, of course, until we wake up.

And the world in that waking moment can seem so unfamiliar, try as we might, that moment will never be fully captured again as it was. So as we learn to understand the transient wholeness (the brief and beautiful glimpses of grace) it brings our perception to a new reverence. It shows us what our actual view is and means and that nothing lasts forever.

The more knowledge we attain, the more the sensation of 'not knowing' fills us. And when we do not know (or see) reality as we have always understood it to be, it begins to distort. In the glory of the present, judgments may simply disappear because there is no time and space for them. 

This is bliss. 

It is here that the vague gap of nothingness appears (superior to anything we can grasp in our daily grind) but we have to be grounded to get and stay there as life marches on all around us.

Change happens.

And while we can breathe all this in and drink it up, there is no articulation for the true reality check. 

Our awakening has to come from within and perhaps with this view we can be satisfied; satisfied that waking up can stay only in the mind through what we think is “our truth” (even though our truth morphs all the time according to circumstances.) Proving once again that only constant is change - and the assurance that so-called reality is nothing more than change itself. 

That being said, every momentary experience is (or can be) so fresh and surreal — and it has the propensity to alter our life, our view, and our thinking in a tiny, single second. 

This is an awakening for the mind, body and soul — to continually be aware of the beauty in and of the smallest bits of change everywhere. It is time to allow space into our day for these moments just as you would for a good friend. But it is up to each one of us to participate and to run to it, because it will not come to us.

There has never been a better time to embrace change and life will never be the same because it isn’t. When we are totally present, we are all in constant change.

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-debbie lynn

https://www.facebook.com/360degreesofinspiration/

I DON'T UNDERSTAND

I don’t understand…

I don’t understand the hatred of: skin color, the way people choose to put their hands together, or whom they love - I don’t understand the divide.

I don’t understand billions of dollars (that number is mind-bending) spent on the trite and trivial when children are starving in our own backyard.

I don’t understand it.

I don’t understand the priorities, the arrogance or the lack of compassion.

I just don’t understand what matters anymore.

I don’t understand the complication, the confrontation and the vile.

I don’t understand the reasons.

What I DO understand is…

If we didn’t have color, a way to pray, or someone/something to love - the world will stop breathing; we will suffocate in our own ignorance and die slowly inside.

What I DO understand is it takes so little to share so much…

Kindness is effortless and meaningful when we give a bit of our self - an extended hand, a smile, or a penny.

I DO understand I cannot change anyone, but I can be a force of change inside my own domain and maybe it will ripple.

I DO understand I must let go of the “whys” and focus on “why not.” Some things, some reasons are better left unknown.

What I DO understand is diversity is everywhere but, it doesn’t mean division.

I understand life doesn’t need to be complicated – but humans are… I am human.

-debbie lynn

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Where there is no love there is no understanding – Oscar Wild

https://www.facebook.com/360degreesofinspiration/

Delving into Intuition

“It’s not whether the outside world has changed in response to your spiritual growth that matters, it’s whether your spiritual growth allows you to respond differently to the circumstances even if they stay the same. That means you have actually grown.” — Bashar

There is a lot at stake when we turn the corner and delve deeper into our spiritual edge.

Sometimes we lose family and friends who don’t understand us. We revel in our solitude and bleed a bit more, but eventually, we awaken the respect for what we have inherently known all along: Things that don’t nurture and support our growth must dissolve, and with that dissolution, a quieter and more thoughtful response to life is immanent.

And as this happens, along the way we may take a mental beating from our own head. It is so hard to quiet the discussion that dances in between our ego/mind and insecurity — but the sooner we heed the voices within, the easier it becomes to take the world-gone-mad into our compassion.

But why do we distrust our knowing? Why do we push back all the time when good, viable information shines? The conditioning of guilt and shame from a past come and gone has a way of infringing upon our peace, even when the gut truth is telling us, “It’s okay; it is truly okay to know what we know and acknowledge it.”

However, when that small voice of insecurity whispers a sweet nothing (and I mean “nothing”) into our ears, it can be hard not to listen. The conversation goes something like this: How can I be right? How can I possibly know what is beyond the surface? I am not a “seer,” a “psychic,” a “knower.” How can I trust myself?

It’s good to remind ourselves that the path we are on is a choice, and we made it based on being healthy and in touch with our gut. It is a path that is needed, wanted and decided upon for the sake of our sanity. And more importantly, the shift of our consciousness helps us when things seem a bit too heavy, too laden with too many little messes.

When we take a leap into the void, and the warning signs are blaring loud and they linger, it is something we mustn’t ignore. Turning a blind eye is just not an option anymore (which can be far more painful than facing any uncertainties up close and personal.) You see, the truth is so much greater inside of us than out; and it will always protect us. The more honest we are about what is truly felt, the lighter we become as the old paradigm of “what if” fades into the background.

The good news is that in all this craziness — all the pain, all the life practice, and people dropping out of sight — we are simply being prepared to understand the minutia of consequences that follow us when we embrace our beautiful goddess-given intuition. (And this isn’t just for women.)

We feel it; we hear it, see it and then (like never before) we can decide how to process it all. But the moment is so tiny we barely have time to blink, yet it is larger then we could ever imagine — and if we do not take it in, life will eventually fall apart.

“Between stimulus and response, that is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and freedom.” — Viktor Frankl

Learning to trust our intuition can be as exciting as it is tumultuous, as sane as it is insane. And as scary as it might seem to really acknowledge all the “stuff” we truly know, honoring the internal gifts and the natural omens is far greater than we think. Going back to our root knowledge with an intelligent reverence just feels right. Trust your gut.

I can’t stress enough how beautiful our mind/body and soul is when it is working in harmony with that universal call — but we forget. And when we try to separate the trio and try to go back into the wounds, we can’t get there because once we have gone through a portal, there is no looking back. No matter how hard we try to find that old comfortable place — it’s gone.

Never disavow your curiosity, your truth or the light in your core. It is pure and blessed.

Live in your edge, and love the challenges of growth and being new. That is what children do (without a second thought) and we might want to take a page from their book.

It really works.

-debbie lynn

http://www.edgemagazine.net/2016/11/delving-into-intuition/

WHISPERS

 The language of the forest 

can be heard 

just by being in the midst of it.

The trees 

laced 

in moss they are 

ancient

forlorn and wise. 

They endure on 

sacred ground

and rise where 

very few dare to walk. 

The woodlands 

stand sentinel 

and beckon “enter” 

with the magic 

of heavy-laden 

color. 

The lyrical 

movement is alluring 

yet an abstract 

and unsure presence 

taunts 

and pulls at the heart strings.

The sun barely shines 

through 

the thickness 

and the

light 

has 

nowhere to rest or reflect. 

The dampness 

still holds 

an aroma of rain 

and at any moment 

a 

mythical 

creature 

could reveal 

what 

only 

plays 

out 

in the mind.

-debbie lynn

https://www.facebook.com/360degreesofinspiration/

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THERE IS MORE TO "LETING GO" THAN JUST WORDS

Intentions - getting real

Great strides in healing are made when we decide the energy spent in resentment, blame and anger just doesn’t make sense to us anymore.This realization lifts a ton of toxicity off our back as we stop trying to rationalize the irrational. Once here (in this view) we can step back and set some real attainable inner aspirations.

But to do this, it is so important to understand the flavor of our intentions (getting to know them personally). The intricacies of our mind (our pre-conditioned patterns) are so very interlaced with our feelings that they end up attaching, co-creating, and influencing what is in our heart and soul of intent.

Our intentions are a powerful and an amazing energy - they are: Our everything.
This energy trickles outward into and onto all we do and encounter daily.

We are the influencers of the wave, the mystic connection of one moment to the next and we are responsible for this motion. WE, (yes you and I) have huge effects on our interior and exterior world so we must be accountable (at all times) with our thoughts, our words and actions. Never for one minute discount the power of intention; it truly supersedes all but a few things have to be put in place as we go.

Breaking free from the intended role of the "victim" -

As the victim, we stay small and we stay in unhealthy shame as we beat our head against the wall for clarity. Even when we believe our intent is in the perfect spot, if we are still clinging to blame, we muddy up the energy and override its purity. It is also important to know that the answers we seek can elude us for a myriad of reasons when we maintain an unresolved status.

Example:

1) We are not ready -
The emotional strain of the truth may be too much to bear right now (it is an overwhelming to process) so we have to allow our inner understanding to catch up with the pain. As we sit somewhere in-between the two (knowledge and suffering) what we find is grace. But there is no guarantee it will happen in the time frame we want, it is not productive punish yourself. Sometimes we need to regroup, refocus, re-boot so to speak. Sometimes we need to cede to the unknowable and put our intentions into surrender.

2). Our perception of the past has been tainted and dramatized by our memory and surroundings -
In the distortion (the drama) things are always blown out of proportion. Not to minimize trauma, but there comes a time when we have to give ourselves a hug and say, “We have come this far, perhaps we don’t need to backtrack anymore.” This is where contentment and peace give us greater visibility in a foggy situation. If we want things to get better, we have to stop breathing life into the past and let it die.

3). Assigning cause (blame on others) for our past is sidestepping a great opportunity for accountability and growth -
In this modality, we stay exactly where we are (imprisoned in a time come-and-gone) instead of a solution for betterment in our current moment. Change can’t change until we commit to changing our self. When we put thought into this, then act on it with our highest intentions – transformation happens quickly.

No denying -

We can’t dismiss where we come from because everything from birth to now is highly important - repeat highly important. So being acquainted and embracing our past with an intention of betterment shapes our path and future. We must use the “wrongs” as examples to make things right.

Accept them, (not excuse them) and learn from them.

It is far better to leave the justifications in the hands of the universe and trust we have spent enough time in turmoil. Trust we are ready to make peace with the past and happily move on. Trust we know all we need to know and we are home. One day we find (as we surrender pain for indifference) that when an ugly memory is sparked, the emotions that used to accompany it are null and void. We realize we are detached but very much alive aware and now…. We are free to let it go with full meaning.

It is pretty simple – intentions to rise and heal begin right here:
Release the blame; it releases you.

-debbie lynn

https://www.facebook.com/360degreesofinspiration/

IT'S FALL

It’s “Fall”

pulling out of the wreck of twisted emotions

I stand up; brush myself off  

dirty, shaken, and confused

it takes a bit of time before the reality of the moment unleashes its

fury upon my soul

I am bitter

I am angry

I am filled with an unfamiliar energy that is trying to consume me

I resist

I don’t like the way I am wearing this emotion

I try to run; it follows me

I try to forget; it hangs on

and just when I am at my edge

a sudden rush of truth

explodes inside

tears turn to relief

relief turns to forgiveness

I unfold

intricate tapestries play a song in my head

a matrix of experiences

golden leaves and blacked skies

it all makes no sense

yet every single moment has, had  and will have purpose

hands to the heart center

and like seasons we cycle

so I avow to let the healing begin again

and again

it’s fall

-debbie lynn

“Of all the paths you take in life, make sure a few of them are dirt” – John Muir

https://www.facebook.com/360degreesofinspiration/

WHEN “SORRY” SEEMS TO BE THE HARDEST WORD

[Note to self - The ill considered]

Please give me your silence; it offers so much more.

It isn’t fair to stand behind words have no substance and transparent disinterest. The vapid “ I am sorry” that acts as a filler of insipid concern (as if there is nothing else to do or to say) – it leaves a cold chill.

The overused and trite expression that so easily pops out the mouth into thin air is expected to take care of business - so casual, this malady is now meaningless and I just have to ask, why bother?

I watch you wrestle with unimaginative empathy as you embezzle feelings (because you have none left to give) and I wonder where the truth is actually hidden in you these days.  Are you so damaged that there is no way out?  

I don’t think so; I know you better than that – and numb really isn’t your best color.

Perhaps you could put the ego/pride aside if only for a moment - and remember.  Remember what it was like to love fully, deeply and without a reason. Remember when your wild side was mystic, enchanting and vividly expressed with elegant intent. 

Remember when you were happy?

Apologies are only as good as the designed intention, and if you think yours is clean – you are wrong; it is dirty.  I implore you to bathe in some indigo authenticity.  Not for me, for your heart, for your honor and your truth. 

This reflection holds many secrets and you have shown me the empty well as an example of who not to be. A forgery, an imposter an artificial soul that is intoxicatingly gorgeous but completely dead inside and I weep.

One day all that plastic will break down to nothingness, with only a shell of who once was there – but not to worry, change is good as long as you are able to get above the frenzied garbage of the contrived.  Being true is self-evident when we see through rose-colored glasses but when blinded by an old story there is nothing rose-colored about it… and you know.

It isn’t that I am looking for the original to come back, it is just a longing to have some semblance of that beautiful essence I know exists under a guise of empathy laced with sadness – and all the words of void that are spoken out of obligation, (not significance or care) are so frigid. 

Take a chance and run ablaze.

Give me your fire, your warmth and comfort. Lost is a place to be found again and again so please don’t be afraid of the light - your darkness doesn’t become you.  All I ask for truth no matter what kind of pain it inflicts, it is far better than unattended words that are never going anywhere.

-debbie lynn

https://www.facebook.com/360degreesofinspiration/

RECYCLING - THE PERFECT DIAMOND

We are….
A diamond in the rough filled with malachite dreams, the coal that has turned to serenity. This is where our transformation begins as the pressure to forgive creates the heat, and in the heat of the moment there is a cry for change.

White light emerges and shines on the target where an ancient mother load of truth can be mined if we are careful – and yet it can feel like a million needles piercing the skin.

It’s a process.

The inner alchemy is blood-to-rubies, this is the how we recycle pain and there is always a pay-off, always someone waiting to buy our “stuff.”

We can make it, break it, or we turn it into something new, brilliant, and something rare.

When we hold vigil in our silence integrity forms. It is another gift given to us from our core that is hard at work creating gems. This is where possibility resides - full, sparkling, and waiting to be received with open arms.

Reviving what we inherently know is Spiritual Alchemy and after the transformation we stand stronger, wiser and better for the pain. This is the beauty of live and let live if we are able to steer clear of the rabbit hole.

And they say that diamonds are a girl’s best friend yet there is no friendship worth the cost of the fire in the belly that taints the heart with revenge, aggression and anger.

Rise above it.

Gems that sparkle can blind the eye, so sometimes it is better to be the rock that hasn’t been polished yet. We must learn that values are only as real as we want them to be and the dream of arrival is not based on anything money can buy.

Discernment is key.

Then, when it is all over, all said and done, we can turn in and see the shimmer in our truth that has touched many and dancing in a memory of the distant emotions.

We become subdued, solid and then we are done.

And when it is asked, “Where did all that pressure to be perfection come from? We thankfully answer, “From inner change” - and rightfully so because no one needs to be molded into something that doesn’t feel good.

Say a little prayer, an inner apology and life goes on. No past is worth clinging to when we have been recycled, enlightened, and truly forgiven in our own surrender.

Forever catching the light, it shows in your eyes…
Shine on you crazy diamond; you are in very good company.

-debbie lynn

https://www.facebook.com/360degreesofinspiration/

1983
I had just moved into my new apartment—LA style (or I really should say, “L.A. no-style”).

I was broke with no furniture except for a few plants, my stereo, over 300 LPs and my leather jacket. Five bucks would get me a couple packs of cigarettes, a can of Dinty Moore stew and a loaf of bread that would last almost a week.

Life was good.

One very early morning Saturday morning after a drunken night on the Sunset Strip, I was awoken to the sound of bells and chanting. It was coming from the other side of my bedroom wall and it seemed to be getting louder. I lay there and listened.

Namu Myōhō Renge Kyō. Namu Myōhō Renge Kyō.

My first thought was that it was 5:00 a.m. and what the…? My second thought was, I am still drunk and dreaming because there was a lightness and hypnotic rhythm in those words and they gave my hung-over head and heart peace. It was odd, soothing and then very irritating all wrapped up in one. I really needed to go back to sleep, or get up and puke (the latter of the two won).

Later, I rolled my sorry butt out of bed and slowly began my day. The chanting of the morning seemed to stay with me, but I didn’t really understand why. I chalked it up to all the weirdoes in this town and it gave me a smile. Being on the edge of weirdness was where I loved to be. I am an artist—it’s good for the inspiration. I went about my usual Saturday ritual cleaning: coffee, vacuuming and a cigarette, but not necessarily in that order.
Trash can in hand, I opened up the apartment door and my neighbor, “The Chanter” opened hers. With the energy of a 40 knot wind she offered up a huge, HI!

She was a stout ebony colored woman sporting the latest hippie garb. She had dreads, Birkenstocks and eyes that could melt ice. I loved her immediately. We exchanged some pleasantries and she asked me if she was too loud this morning. I said, “Yes” but with a smile. She said, “So is your music” and our playful friendship was born.

I asked her about her singing.

She gave a loving laugh and explained that she was a Buddhist and that she was chanting, not singing. She then asked if I was interested in joining her someday for a chant. Humm, more oddness—she didn’t ask me to come over for conversation, coffee or a cookie…but for a chant? I respectfully declined yet the vibe of her voice was still in me and my curiosity was piqued.

Weeks of her morning ritual chants turned into months. I thought my boyfriend was going to shoot her (he was convinced she completely whacked), but I loved the sound. I told him to let it go.

Even though it started long before the birds were up, I loved the bells and the feeling that her chanting gave to me. So, I decided I was going to take her up on the offer and I would deal with the boyfriend later.
There were a couple of things I had to work through, however.

1) How the hell would I wake up that early?

2) How would I sneak out at 5:00 am without getting caught?

3) How would I explain I was chanting with a Buddhist to my “Rock Star” macho boyfriend and friends?

4) Justifying it all to myself

See back then, Buddhism was not understood, accepted or liked—at all. Most people thought it was a goofy cult. As for me? It was another step in my exploration of the mystic, the spiritual and the longing to find some roots. The obvious had to happen, so, I joined her.

I endured the harassment and the whispers of, “She has gone off the deep end” for a while from friends but quite frankly, this 5:00 a.m. crap was edging into my partying and living the “Metal lifestyle.”

Something had to give.

Incense, bells and words that meant nothing became embedded into my be-ing, yet I wasn’t truly convinced that Buddhism was my path. Try as she might, her teachings and daily mantras and my being in a seated position at the butt-crack of dawn was not for me.

It is said that, ”When the student is ready the teacher will appear.” Obviously, I wasn’t ready. Maybe my timing was off, maybe I was too insecure or lazy or all of the above, but it didn’t last long.

All I knew was it was easier to find meaning in an astrological forecast from the LA Times than it was for me to delve into Buddhism. And being a “Taurus” was a lot easier than trying to explain Buddhism and far easier for my friends and family to digest. After all, Nancy Reagan had Ronnie hooked on astrology (an Astrologer, not a politician, ran our country…eye roll).

So, I quit going.

She never said a word. We were still good friends and neighbors because that is how she (the Buddhist) was. There were no questions asked; just respect, love, purity and the of course the magic of the bells. It took a few years for me to fully appreciate her Modus Operandi. I began to miss the energy of the OM and all the amazing gifts of the Noble Eight Fold Path. Although I loved it, I just never committed; yet it is the closest thing I have ever come to my higher self.
Fast-forward 30 some years.

People ask me all the time, “What Religion are you?” I say, “I don’t have one, I just am.”

To me, the thread that runs through all the religious teachings is so simple and clear that we don’t have to subscribe to any sect to practice. I believe in love, truth, respect and kindness—that is it, the end. These “things” are found all over the world. It is the universal call and when you mix it with music, the power is beyond words.

I love how the Koans make my mind spin: the wisdom of Buddha and the Buddhist messages that are minimal with huge impact on the soul.

I no longer live in the big city, my LPs have long been replaced by CDs, my leather jacket hangs in the closet and my heart belongs to Buddhism. It is not uncommon for me to but on heavy music and rock an hour or so of yoga or meditate with Led Zeppelin. I was destined to integrate my music with Spiritualism.

And, I am forever thankful for that beautiful neighbor whose chanting woke me up (in more ways than one) early one Saturday morning.
-Debbie lynn

https://www.facebook.com/360degreesofinspiration/

http://thetattooedbuddha.com/the-heavy-metal-buddhist/

They (whoever “they” are) say our disturbances are all divine, but when we are in the thick of a nasty situation there is nothing divine about it.

And the last thing we are thinking about is thanking the atrocity for giving us a life lesson.

Enter blame, resentment and a plethora of other emotions that come in with the disturbances. They stack up like bricks when life is bending us over and kicking our asses. Here is how I turned the negativity around.

In 2001, my world collapsed. In desperation, I sought out help.

This wasn’t my normal way at all—I was an independent, strong, do-it-yourself kind of woman, so asking for a way out (a way to heal the many years of unresolved shit) was never a thought until my marriage imploded. Couple that with 9/11, (which ruined my business) I was in extreme chaos. I was losing my husband, my house, my car, my dignity and my mind. I broke down… I broke bad.
I remember being on bended knees begging for resolve, wailing in pity and sadness. I had no idea where I was going or who to turn to, but I knew staying in depression and helplessness was not an option.

For some reason I thought I could find an answer (or at least some sympathy) through a psychic I had seen in the past. I went to the bookstore where she worked, but I was told she wasn’t there. I burst into tears and the woman behind the counter hugged me tight. She gave a tissue stroked my hair and handed me a business card of another woman she thought could be of some help.

Her name, Brightwater.

I called her immediately and she said, “Come right in,” which I did and our relationship began. This beautiful soul gave her time to me at minimal cost and took me on a journey I could not have done alone. She is a Shaman, a Medicine Woman, a Healer and Intuit. She took me to places that (in my mind) were forbidden and taboo.

We had “sessions.” These were past-life regressions, heart-wrenching talks, and we dug into my many wounds. She was a guide to my soul, a mind cleaner and a mentor. One day she asked me to step back into my childhood for a moment and try to find my parents. I must have given her my yeah, right look but she was well aware of my ambivalence, “Debbie, this is an exercise in futility. You must drop your ego, your disdain for the ones you say have hurt you, and do this or you will stay ‘stuck’ in your own head forever suffering.”

I complied, and this little “session” was truly life-altering.

She put me in a state of semi-hypnosis, softly speaking, instructing me to start the task of seeking out my parents. Dad was easy to find. He was in the basement, in his workshop. He was smoking a cigarette with a vodka tonic by his side, and he was tinkering with something. He looked up and greeted me with his usual smile and love, motioned me to come into the shop and gave me the hug I adore—it was just another day, in the day of “the way it was.” My dad was a consistent presence when I needed a bit of security, but dad was also immersed in the bottle. He did what he could do as only a father could do, just short of being there—but not fully.

Brightwater then said it was time to leave my dad and find my mother. I walked out of the shop through the laundry room expecting to see Mom at the ironing board, but she wasn’t there. I headed into the hallway peeked into the den thinking she might be in there cleaning, but she wasn’t.

I started up the stairs calling her, “Mom? Mom… where are you?” She was not in the kitchen, not in the bedroom and not in the den. The overwhelming feeling of being alone hit my gut hard. I cried for what seemed like an eternity and Brightwater gently brought me back to the present.

She let my heart pour out into her space.
My mom was not home, she was always gone and the tears rushed out of me painfully, and for a long time. I was so hurt by her absence and wanted her to be within reach, but she was in her own world, doing her own thing. Being home was not her agenda.

We talked about my resentment to Mom’s absence, her priorities and her energy. We talked about feelings of abandonment and the effects it has had on my soul. In this conversation I found my resolve with Brightwater’s words and they are words I will never ever forget.

“Debbie, I understand your ‘need and your pain,’ but it is time for you to spin that straw it into gold. You are strong, independent and creative don’t you see? Your mother’s absence was how you obtained these traits and fostered them into the woman you are now. In her absence you had to rely only on yourself, your power and your own intuition. If your mother had been different, you probably wouldn’t have the strength or the confidence to do most of the things you have done up until this very moment. Debbie, she is and her actions were a gift. It is in this anger with her that you have flourished, you have bloomed, and now you must return to it all to the soil; forgive yourself, reseed, rest and bloom again.”

I sat there solemnly and stared out of the window. It took a few minutes to let those words reach my heart and then I exploded in gratitude for Brightwater and my mother—a gratitude that I never knew was possible.

I rose from the chair, wiped the tears from my eyes and embraced her deeply. Then I turned, and walked out the door.

Completely injected with a new view, I went home and I called my mom. I thanked her for being her, thanked her for her own independence and her outlook on life. There was a pause, but she didn’t question my call or make me feel as if I needed to explain. She got it. The divine was immanent and the timing was right.

Renewed, revived and ready to take on the rest of the shit that stood in my face, I had a better understanding of my head and heart which empowered me to get through the next phase of sorting out “my stuff.” Ever since that day, I have used that example to over and over again when my feelings are messy and I need to overcome situations which have the propensity to hurt me. I can trace a line to the pain and thank it.

We all know life is a process, but so often we don’t know how to get to it or though it. It is a long and difficult trek, but we have to use these gifts of diversity to the fullest and give them a bit of dignity.

Life gives us exactly what we need when we need it. Is it divinity? I don’t know, but here are two definitions for the word—we can choose.

Divinity: noun

1 (pl. divinities) the state or quality of being divine: Christ’s divinity.
the study of religion; theology: a doctor of divinity.
a divine being; a god or goddess: busts of various Roman divinities.
(the Divinity) God.

2 a fluffy, creamy candy made with stiffly beaten egg whites.
I like them all. Life is divine and I am thankful for the pain.
http://thetattooedbuddha.com/gratitude-for-the-pain/

Sounds of a Waiting Room

In an office full of despair, desperation, sickness and poverty

two white moths dance.

There is a hollow view from inside,

all I want is to be outside,

but I am in a room

waiting…

A child’s smile breaks through my meditative observance.

He doesn’t care about where he is,

his gentle persona fills the room with a different energy.

He drifts into his dad with such love

it melts me to my very core.

All of a sudden the tiny world I am in becomes large.

This beautiful child

with a beautiful aura in a deformed body

lit up the room so brightly

I had to close my eyes.

My tiny world.

My tiny, tiny world Rocked and riveted –

Mesmerized, transfix, I was drawn to a situation I know nothing about yet,

I learned so much from his extraordinary presence.

Suspended in time for a moment

my “wait” was completely minimized

compared to the journey of a lifetime that this child had already taken.

-debbie lynn

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ALONE...

Alone…

Without another soul, I climbed

My favorite place, a special place – the syncline

There is something magical about the view from above but today the view from the descent revealed things I haven’t seen before

Even though I know it well, with a little change in perspective I was able to see this familiar path with a bit of reverence

And I wonder…

What would it be like if I looked at more things (the tougher things) from below,

Instead of above.

-debbie lynn

Caribbean Dawn

The light begins to break through the darkness and it has a soft glow. Filtered by luminous clouds (with their bellies full) the sky stirs and they release their load - 

but this morning… it is a gentle rain. 

A hint of a rainbow appears letting it be known the sun is moments away from a grand entrance.

It is early and the sea takes on many shades. A chameleon of sort in multiple hues of blue – it’s all a reflection. As above so below the water is our life source and I say I little thank you.

The gentle rocking of the boat soothes my soul.

I am cradled by the sea and feels so right.  The water is lapping against the hull, the birds dance and dive then perch themselves on a near-by buoy to stand sentinel.

Life is simple, untethered and quiet in one bay to the next, and each day has its own unique serenity. Connecting to the ocean has deepened my respect for its immensity and heightened my ability to tolerate inconvenience of certain things I once deemed important – thankfully they are no longer a thought.

From our boat, I watch the village awaken and I think...

Existence on shore now seems tilted, harried, stressful and sad. A place I cannot embrace anymore so I say a little prayer. I could easily shut my eyes to solid ground but I don’t, I won’t and I adapt when needed.

We go to land to provision, to take in the heritage, and the way of life.  We are constantly reminded of just how lucky we are and to never take for granted where we come from – life is not easy on these Islands. The things we have grown up with are only a pipe dream to the West Indies. 

Respectively, we are spoiled beyond our wildest imagination.

Just beyond the juxtaposition of the clashing cultures in each village/town is the sacred jungle. A place where the old ways dominate by far. Technology couldn’t, or wouldn’t dare try to master or duplicate the strength of blood wood trees, the beat of the hummingbird wings and the might of the rivers that feed our soul. The light under the canopy of trees is beyond words. We walk in awe and brilliant beauty.

And I say to myself, “I wish I could share this with everyone.”

We travel in solitude with time and tide. Our schedule is predicated upon the will of the wind. We can only go when Momma Nature nods her head as we are at complete mercy of her whim. She often acts like an adolescent; her mood changes in an instant, so awareness is key.

Full sails are a rarity; the winds are too powerful and build in the blink of an eye.

A 40-mile passage is a seven-hour day of nothingness; it gives way to the things buried deep in the subconscious.  Thinking, forever thinking – I call it “sea therapy”  – you can’t run, you can’t hide; you are called to the mat until the smallest object catches the eye.  Heightened sensitivity to the little things are imperative, they are omens of sea state, wind direction and unseen life below the water. 

Every now-and-then a school of dolphins will come play in our wake. They taunt, they arc, and they race our hull and peel off as quickly as they appear. Nearing shore the Yellow-footed Boobies try to land on our rigging, sometimes they make it, sometimes they don’t and the effort they make to land is exhausting to witness.

I bring my attention back to the sunrise – the magnificent sunrise, it never gets old. 

And I write:

I love the way the morning gently takes away the darkness and no one questions its motives.

I love the gap, that momentary gap where day and night are not defined.

I love the way moon knows how powerful it is no matter how much of itself it is showing.

I love the wisdom of the soil, layered and majestic – there are stories, many untold stories.

I love how trees reach for the light and cede to the wind.

I love the unimportant that is wildly important

I love it all, and we dance…  (dl)

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SPIRITUAL COMA

Today I lapsed into a spiritual coma.

My mind was full - too full and I felt stuck. Time to purge, release, step back, assess and get ready for the next surge of information.  

I wonder about my agitation, restlessness, in and out of felicity. I wonder about the nagging of my heart that wants a taste of something but what is it?

Nothing tangible, nothing real, and nothing to say or do, I can’t put words to it.

Then I view the morning clouds and the light in the sky, it changes everything,

The rays are pouring through in a perfect stream. The stream…. yes, this is what I am missing. The stream of consciousness that I tend to forget until extreme beauty is in front of me in all of its glory. The stream that flows is the connection to spirit and the stream that believes in my purpose.

That is what I was missing and all it took to inspire. 

The understated immenseness of what is around me. How could the light make such a difference? It is magic for me - the light went straight to the heart center.  

I see now as I go through my days in a daze, it is important to confront my feelings, to talk to the heart stream and listen to the fluidity of the wind.

We are infants in our understanding and our control... until we connect to source and source is here to grow us up, guide, and direct our understanding. This is the personal and direct line to inner happiness.

Wake up. Find your Stream, your pool, your river to dip into and get soaked in the information that surrounds you. Then... say thank you. Quietly or aloud, you will be heard. (DL)

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His name is "Kenny"

Early morning  -

The birds, frogs and a bark from a distant dog usher in the day.

There is the sound of parting water - a whoosh, a slap,

as a well-worn man rows his small and weather beaten boat up to ours.

He greets us with a hearty toothless smile and begins to rattle off his ‘wants’ in a deep Caribbean Creole dialect.  It is hard to understand him but it turns out that he is just hungry and he wants to know if we have food to spare.

His eyes are depleted, his spirit is waning but his attitude is healthy even as his body projects a different image.  

We ask his name - he said, “Kenny.”

We gather up what we can and hand it to him, but he shakes his head “no”

At first I didn’t get why he was not accepting the items but I soon figure out he wants it all in a bag; it is easier to carry – we comply.

He then takes the food happily, greedily and with gratitude, and he and rows off. 

My tears flow, I am shattered as the realization that he has nothing hits me hard.

My husband calls him back to the boat and gives him a t-shirt.

Again filled with deep happiness, he proudly puts the shirt on and asks when we will return. I tell him Dec. but he shakes his head. He says with a slight quietness, “I don’t think I will be around.” I assure him that I will come back and find him.  

– He bids us farewell and rows away.

The Spirit of the Caribbean…. Be still in my aching heart, with me on land. (dl)

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BENDING NOT TO BREAK

We never have to give up our intentions just to make peace, but we can bend to have serenity.

Resiliency in a world that demands rigidity can easily break our spirit – don’t let it, rise above it –don’t hold back. Lean into your words in order to save yourself from being chastised mind/body/soul. No one can take that from you.

And there are certain times when life gets us down so we fold. Try not to stay there too long because when we are bent over, all the blood rushes to the head – and that is how we black out.

I mean we are all human, why can’t we crack open that stupid idea of perfection? It is in our imperfections we are shown flexibility and acceptance… and like the delicate flexing of willow that weeps so beautifully….

To bend is breath taking.

Here is what I know -
When you spill your milk it’s ok to cry about it.
When you trip over your words you may bruise the ego.
You can crash into life and unapologetically smiled to it.
You can sing the song of blue valor and someone else will always color it yellow.
So what?
When your heart is burning, and your belly cries out, it is time to crawl
into safety, a protection from rigid intolerance.
Bend a little.

We don’t need to be courageous to speak our heart. Courage will show up. When you need a dose of isolation because the outer noise is just too much to bear find a quiet space. Meet it head on any day, any time, anywhere.

Raise a glass, here's to a world without resistance… affirm:

Dear Suppleness,
You are my light, my ink, and my destiny and when I bend, I will try not to break. I know there is so much more possibility than what any rigid energy can do –
Bring it on…. to bend is so breath taking and beautiful (dl)

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OUR STORY IS WHERE WE MEET OUR SELF - Tell it like it is

             

               
The content of our life, the blood we had to shed and the tears of joy or sadness – this is the story. Who we have been, who we will be, and who we are… right now. (dl)

Our story…

It is just being honest inside and taking a few chances, but not making our stuff stupidly dramatic and hopelessly romantic – keep it real.

Over the years our story morphs, or might even disappear, but the one thing that will always remain is the change it had in us, to us, and with us.  And this change (big or small) whether we believe in it (or not) is nothing short of spiritual alchemy – Yes, it happens and we can’t do a thing about it – but acceptance is a cool thing to put in our pocket.

It is a playground of experiences maxed out, stretched out, that put us out-of- mind because in all this mental hopscotch it seems like we are the only ones suffering –

Heads up sunshine, we are not.

Yes, it is just a story.

So when we grab a hold of our world gone mad, shake it to the core, little diamonds begin to tumble to the ground and this is where we get to pick them up and either use them to cut glass, or to wear them – it’s a choice.

And after it is all said in done, will the story matter? That is one more piece of the mysterious puzzlement of our purpose – personal, artistic and alive. We need to be open to the possibility that it didn’t matter at all, except in that one tiny moment of our life, and life goes on. 

But when we look in the mirror do we see the years of a worn torn vision caressing an image we hold in our head, or do we ignore it? Do we play safe for the sake of our sanity? Color the past or make it black and white?

It is so very hard to look deeply into the eyes of a time come and gone (with head our held high) and accept some of our decisions were probably not the best. But there were times when all we wanted was a bigger truth and we paid for it dearly.  So we replay the situation over and over and ask where it was that we went awry.

Enter the endless circle. When we fall into that habitual redundancy, we get a bit sour about it all (but it is of our own doing) because of the double-edged sword – damned if we do, damned if we don’t. In other words, the story needs high emotion to sustain interest.

The intensity of retelling our “stuff” can ignite a flame that should have been put out long ago or it can be cathartic – again, we have many choices, so we must pick our inner and outer audience wisely. 

The art of the tale is how it is told.  Did we learn, did we share it with wisdom or beat it to death in drama and bitterness?  If it holds no credence anymore perhaps it should be released from the repertoire and start a different conversation.

But before we can say, “The end” we need to be completely honest with our heart.  If it doesn’t hurt anymore when begin to speak about it – put it bed. It is done.  If it a twinge still appears in our gut, or something makes us tingle in a not so good way, there is more to learn, more to know, more to grow. 

Dig deeper.

With any luck at all we find serenity - a solemn serenity that we all have to face sooner or later. It can be cold and brutal but it is (in my mind) the best form of enlightenment out there.

Our story is in fact, where we meet our self. Extend your hand gratefully and say, Hello… (dl)

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