Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Happy Love Day

What if God was one of us?

If God had a name,
What would it be,
And would you call it to His face
If you were faced with Him
And all His glory?
What would you ask if
You had just one question?

If God had a face,
What would it look like
And would you wanna see
If seeing meant you would have to believe
In things like Heaven
And in Jesus and the Saints
And all the Prophets?

What if God was one of us;
Just a slob like one of us;
Just a stranger on a bus
Tryin' to make His way home?

Lyrics by Joan Osborne

I have been troubled lately, troubled as to how I am supposed to love “everybody”. Why that just doesn’t seem possible. I’m supposed to love that guy blasting his rap music so loud that I have to roll up my windows, I’m supposed to love that woman who shoves me out of the way so she can get on the train first, love that person who cut me off in traffic and then flipped me the bird. I just can’t do it God.

And then I remembered the lyrics to this song. It was released in 1995 and had a catchy tune that caught my ear right away. Then when I heard the words, it just floored me.

And then I woke up this morning remembering them.

If each and every one of us, on each and every day were told that God was here among us, but it was up to us to figure out who he/she was. Why you bet I would love that guy with his rap music, I would love that woman shoving me and I would even love that person flipping me the bird.

Because what if they were God? I sure would want God to know that I loved him/her now wouldn’t I?

And you know what?

Now, I know,


And I am too.

And the truth is, it is all about love. Love for all.

"I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there
can be no more hurt, only more love."
~Mother Teresa

"A human being is a part of a whole, called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separated from the rest... a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty."
~Albert Einstein

May you have a Valentine's Day filled with love, love for yourself and all.

Friday, February 10, 2006

Blue child

I picked this picture because that is the exact shade of blue that my daughter decided to color her hair when she was 14. I can still remember being in Sally Beauty Supply and having her running up to me with a box of blue hair dye. I was appalled, no way, no way are you dying your hair that color. Everyone will make fun of you. She threw a 2 year old tantrum and fell on the floor crying. Deciding that this was one battle that wasn’t worth all this war, I relented and gave in. She ended up with “psychic blue” hair and was instantly recognizable for blocks. She sang in the choir, and I still remember cringing in my seat in the audience as she sang her heart out, with that vivid, bright blue hair standing out like a beacon.

In the movie “Hildago” Viggo Mortensen's character was called by his Native American Mother “Blue Child”. He is a child of a new heart and a new view of the world. He can see farther and deeper. These children see deep into the future and the past. It is a great movie
Link to movie

Many of you may have heard of the coming of the “Indigo Children”.

“The Indigo phenomenon has been recognized as one of the most exciting changes in human nature ever documented in society. The Indigo label describes the energy pattern of human behavior which exists in over 95% of the children born in the last few years … This phenomenon is happening globally and eventually the Indigos will replace all other colors. As small children, Indigo’s are easy to recognize by their unusually large, clear eyes. Extremely bright, precocious children with an amazing memory and a strong desire to live instinctively, these children of the next millennium are sensitive, gifted souls with an evolved consciousness who have come here to help change the vibrations of our lives and create one land, one globe and one species. They are our bridge to the future”

My youngest, born in 1984 is one of these children. She was a gift to me on my 37th birthday. I constantly tell her that she is the best birthday present I have ever had, and she is. She is a beautiful child born with a heart so big that it amazes even me. She struggled through the tortuous structured school criteria. When she was in 3rd grade I was summoned to school and told that she needed to be placed in Special Ed classes and her teacher was convinced that she had ADD and needed to be put on drugs. I struggled mightily with this, here were all these ‘educated” people convincing me that all she needed was a pill. And that she was flawed.

She wasn’t flawed. They were. I relented and took her to a child psychologist. And God intervened and we met one of his angels. After numerous tests, I was told by this angel that I had a precious gift. She didn’t need drugs; she just needed our patience and understanding. I willingly gave it. It was a battle all through the school years but I won and so did my child. It took her 5 years instead of 4 to get through high school but she did. She was labeled as having a “math” disability. She believed it.

So we focused on what made her happy and her eyes light up. And that was animals and nature. She has an uncanny ability to heal any sick or injured animal. And over the years our home has been full of them. We presently have 4 dogs, 4 birds, 2 fish tanks and a guinea pig. She has brought home more injured birds, rabbits, squirrels than I can remember. She healed them all and released them. Funny thing is they all still come back to see her. One spring a little chickadee with a missing foot was tossed out of the nest. She found him; hand fed him and then released him that summer. He still lives on our front porch in a nest box she made. He has raised several generations of babies and never leaves. She calls him “Cheep” and he adores her.

My math disability child has now entered college and has decided that God has sent her here to save the earth and all of its animals. She is majoring in Environmental Science. And all of her required classes meant lots of math, and lots of science. I was so afraid for her, afraid that she would fail and it would break her heart. But my “flawed” “math disabled” child has made the Dean’s List every year. She has a perfect, flawless grade point average.

And there is no doubt in my mind, or my heart that she will help save this earth and our friends, the animals. God has sent his special “blue” angels here to help all of us.

She is my gift. And I am so full of love and gratitude that my heart is filled to bursting.

And in these terrible times of doubt, fear and pain, all one has to do is look at these children and see the beauty of their souls. Hope is all around us.

If you would like to read more about Indigo Children I recommend Spirit of Maat’s articles here: Indigo Children

Saturday, February 04, 2006

Coal Holders

We Are The Coal Holders

Ever since the beginning, there's always been the guy who’s job it was to carry the last hot coal. (Remember?)

See, when the tribe moved on, someone had to carry the last hot coal to start up the next fire at the next campsite. They needed this fire to cook with, sleep near, talk and sing around. Now, many of these coal-holders, over time, became folk singers.

Later on, some went electric. Some even became rock and roll singers, punkers and rappers. Hey, different tribes, different instruments. But the job itself has never changed.

My dad was one of these guys. And a lot of his songs were pretty damned hot!

We are Woody’s coal-holders. We do this to keep our present day tribe warm, fed, and informed.

Sometimes it gets real cold out there (Have you noticed?) and it seems like a chilly wind is just going to blow us all off the map.

A lot of people are feeling the effects of the chill; no food, no shelter, no singing, no rights. And other people are chilling inside; no warmth, no joy, no song, no tribe.

Coal-holders are real important right now!

They will be the ones who will make it possible to build the next fire. They will be the ones to serve up our next hot meal or our next warm talk. And though it seems that there are no bonfires burning just yet, I do feel that things are warming up!

- Nora Guthrie and everyone here!

Do you think God created the universe and then just disappeared? God speaks to us every minute of every day. Most of us are listening to so much background noise that we don’t hear him at all. In the recent tragedy involving coal miners, God was all over the place. 13 miners trapped, 12 lost their lives and 1 survived. Go look up 12 around 1 on the internet. How many disciples including Jesus were there? The 12 who lost their lives spent their last minutes writing letters to their families and loved ones. Letters of faith and love. “I’ll see you on the other side” – “It’s just like going to sleep”. Coal miners are the backbone of this country. They are the real Americans, the ones who work hard at dangerous jobs. And they have been victims of heinous “big business” tycoons who have treated them worse than dirt. But they survived and continue to bring that coal up from the depths of the earth. They are some of the most heroic people in this land. And sometimes they reach for the stars like Homer Hickam http://www.homerhickam.com/miners/

God wants us to know that he is always with us, and to remember that “We are the Coal Holders”. And the world needs us now, light up your fire, get that coal hot, sing it out to the world. Sing it!

In the words of Woody Guthrie -


It’s after my work tired and weary, I lay down to rest my eyes,
I see this world change in a whirlwind and heaven flies down from the skies;
I see rising up from my wreckage, cities and mansions so bright
I see my friends eyes and their faces lit up with a bright shining light.

I walk through the sunshiny factory where dresses and shirts are both clean;
A brother and sister are singing at work as they watch all the wheels;
No smudge clouds of smoke hid my valley, my sight it is clear for miles;
The mountains are all dancing happy, the trees are waving me smiles.

There are no sickly faces about me, the children are healthy and gay;
Not one homeless soul is around me, not lost, nor cripple, nor lame;
The street laid in finest of plastics, the atom is laboring as well;
No airships are crashing here by me, no dead ones in burning hotels.

No fast cars collide nor turn over, no death curve along my new road;
No cheaters, no gamblers, no robbers, no graveyard, no prisons, no jails;
No gasbombs, no brass knucks, no billies, no battles ‘tween worker and boss;
No patrolman, no officer, policeman, to ride into crowds on his horse.

The last labor battles are ended, they’re shown on the screen and the page;
The workhand is happy at building his world like the play on his stage;
Profiteers are gone and forgotten, except in my history and book,
My friends all have jobs here in heaven and sing as I stand here and look.

I am sawing the finest made fiddle, I am touching the richest skin drum;
I am blowing the sweetest of woodwinds and blowing the deepest of horns;
I dance to my music I’m making, and the world joins in with my dance;
Science and hope cures the fevers, not one grain is blowing by chance.

Every hand works in hand with the other, and not for power nor greed;
Every hand works to its fullest ability and is paid in its deepest of need;
No cancer, no tuberculosis, no paralysis nor asylums are here
No bowery, nor skid row of homeless, no eye that is blinded by tears.

If you can only see with me this vision of heaven I dreamed,
Then you can take new faith in working with comrades and friends
And when I woke up from my sleeping and looked down my raggedy street,
I go back to work with my vision and I drink down the bitter and sweet.

I know as you hear such a dream, friend, you will not pass it along;
I do not expect you to sing it as I do, nor to sing such a curious song;
I wrote down this song for my own self, and sing it now to my own soul,
But if you’ll sing songs of your dreamings, then you will reap treasures untold.

Thursday, February 02, 2006

Row, Row, Row Your Boat

Row, Row, Row your boat
Gently down the stream
Merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream……….

Anne Sexton : Life into Art

A story, a story!
(Let it go. Let it come.)
I was stamped out like a Plymouth fender
into this world.
First came the crib
with its glacial bars.
Then dolls
and the devotion to their plastic mouths.
Then there was school,
the little straight rows of chairs,
blotting my name over and over,
but undersea all the time,
a stranger whose elbows wouldn't work.
Then there was life
with its cruel houses
and people who seldom touched -
though touch is all-
but I grew,
like a pig in a trenchcoat I grew,
and then there were many strange apparitions,
the nagging rain, the sun turning into poison
and all of that, saws working through my heart,
but I grew, I grew,
and God was there like an island I had not rowed to,
still ignorant of Him, my arms and my legs worked,
and I grew, I grew,
I wore rubies and bought tomatoes
and now, in my middle age,
about nineteen in the head I'd say,
I am rowing, I am rowing
though the oarlocks stick and are rusty
and the sea blinks and rolls
like a worried eyeball,
but I am rowing, I am rowing,
though the wind pushes me back
and I know that that island will not be perfect,
it will have the flaws of life,
the absurdities of the dinner table,
but there will be a door
and I will open it
and I will get rid of the rat inside of me,
the gnawing pestilential rat.
God will take it was his two hands
and embrace it.

As the African says:
This is my tale which I have told,
if it be sweet, if it be not sweet,
take somewhere else and let some return to me.
This story ends with me still rowing.

- "Rowing" by Anne Sexton, from The Awful Rowing Towards God

This rowing is very hard. Just when I think I have everything figured out. I realize I don't. And then the hardest part is I realize I am all alone. I can't bring anybody with me. I have to row this boat all alone.

I have been hitting my daughters over the head with all the wonderful new things I have discovered. Filled with enlightment and joy, I just want them to get on the boat with me. Go here, read this, listen to this. A shock to realize that they weren't listening at all. Then I had a vision of my little girl self patiently nodding my head to my mother who loved and strived her whole life to be what she thought God wanted her to be, and tried to make me come with her. My eyes glazed over, my ears grew plugs. Nodding my head, yes mother dear. But the whole time not listening at all. And I realize now that I can't make my daughters get in the boat with me. Only I can row, and row, and row.

It's lonely.

And now I realize, my mother was too.