Nancy Lankston
Flow with the Energies of your Soul
Be True to You
Allow Yourself to Bloom
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“There’s no stopping the soul that radiates out and around us,
any more than one can stop the sweet perfume of a rose.
You could, of course, hold your nose.
But the rose will continue to exude its rich fragrance”
~Tom Cowan, Celtic Shaman
My dad passed away a month ago. He had struggled to hang on and stay here long past the point of misery, so his passing was a relief in many ways. But there are still days when I have images of him in my head all day, and I miss him a lot. And other days I don’t think of him at all. Grief is a strange beast.
This morning I remembered a time many years ago when my dad tried to teach me how to jitterbug. Tried is the operative word here – I never could hold my torso still and get my feet to do what his were doing so perfectly. In my defense, I am not known for my coordination. Besides, I had a glass of wine before the dance instruction began!
Dad loved to tell people the tale of how his Navy buddy taught him to jitterbug. I always loved that story; Dad had joined the Navy at 18 and shipped out to California for basic training just as WWII ended. He went from a tiny town in southern Illinois to suddenly being in the Navy on a ship with hundreds of other guys. I imagine that it was all quite a shock for a young geeky country boy. One of his older shipmates took my dad under his wing. He helped my dad settle in to life in the Navy. And he also taught Dad how to jitterbug so he could impress the ladies.
I love the image of my skinny 18 year old Dad with his baby face, dressed in baggy jeans and a work shirt, dancing the jitterbug with some big beefy guy in the tightly cramped quarters of a battleship! LOL Life truly is stranger than fiction. The dance lessons definitely paid off because 40 years later my dad was still an amazing jitterbugger. 🙂
I miss Dad. I wish I had danced with him more. This morning, as I flashed on images of the handful of times that we danced together, I heard Dad’s voice in my ear. He said, “We’ll dance again.” And I suddenly saw an image of two energies dancing and flowing together and then apart, together and then apart. And as the energies danced, they morphed and changed shape, but I could tell that it was still the energy of Dad and I dancing together.
I think that image of my energy dance with Dad is actually a great lesson about the rhythm of life and death. We are energies that come together to dance on Earth, then part in death. Then we will come together again in a new place and dance a new dance. Over and over, we dance together in one form or another.
Later in the morning, I hike up one of my favorite trails, still thinking about my dad and missing him. I stop on a mesa to rest awhile. As I sit under the pines writing, I am startled by a hawk’s cry above me. I look up and see two hawks soaring and spiraling just above my rocky perch. The hawks appear to be dancing together on the wind. It’s a beautiful dance,.
Another memory surfaces as I watch the hawks; I flash on the image of my dad dancing with my mom. In my memory, they are both in their late sixties and have been together for over 40 years. When they danced together, they were so closely in synch that it was like watching a single body move and flow to the music.
The hawks are gone when I next look up from my writing. But a pair of young deer soon stumble upon me. They freeze for a moment. But when they realize that I wont harm them, they relax and forage for food a few feet behind me. Life dances on all around me.
I love you Dad. And I miss you. I miss your wide open country boy smile. I miss your stories. I just plain miss you! But I know in my heart it was time for you to move on. And I am ok – I know that you and I will dance together again soon.
Last month, I took part in a class called “Getting Naked” that Julia Fehrenbacher offered online. Every day for 40 days, Julia gave us food for thought and creative writing assignments. It was amazing how much I learned about myself just from getting naked every day for 40 days. I highly recommend the class if Julia runs it again.
One of the first Getting Naked assignments that Julia gave us was to log 25 things we were grateful for each and every day. When I first received this assignment, my reaction was, “Ugh – that’s crazy! I don’t have the time or energy to do that!” I come from a family of pessimists; my parents were impressionable little kids during the Depression and never completely got over living on the edge of survival. Eighty years later, gratitude is still not something that flows naturally in my family. But I have been slowly working at getting more optimistic and more grateful. So, on second thought, I decided to try this gratitude log for a few days and see what happened.
Noticing and recording my gratitudes went smoothly for the first few days. It didn’t take very long and I actually enjoyed coming up with a list of things I was grateful for. But then, on about day 5, I hit a wall. I became completely and totally resistant to writing down ANYTHING else that I was grateful for, much less 25 items a day. So, I stopped. I stopped completely. And after a few days, I noticed how crappy my mood was. And how crappy it stayed. I was a complete whiny bitch!
About day 9, after days of no gratitude log and much complaining, a quiet little voice inside me began poking at me insistently. My little voice gently suggested that I focus on gratitude again. But I’m stubborn – very stubborn sometimes. It took my inner knowing 4-5 days to convince me to start logging gratitudes again. But I finally did. And I felt better! I actually felt a lot better every time I sat down and logged 25. So much better that some days I would log 30 or 40 or 50 items in my gratitude log.
And now, even though my Getting Naked class ended a few weeks ago, I continue to log gratitudes for at least a few minutes every day. So what happened? Why would I take the time to do this gratitude log every day? Here’s what I’ve discovered about gratitude; it can completely change how your life goes. Oprah was right. 🙂
I know it sounds trite and silly. And I don’t want you to think that I’m becoming a Pollyanna or anything (Pollyanna’s are definitely not allowed in my family). But focusing on what I’m grateful for softens me up in ways I can’t even put into words. For one thing, this gratitude log gets my mind out of the perpetual worry and whine track that I am so prone to fall into. It also opens my heart to what I love about the world. This one little thing helps my day just plain flow better.
Now when I wake up cranky, I find myself actively looking for something to be grateful for right away; I have learned that if I can “reset” my awareness to gratitude setting, my entire day will shift for the better. What I focus on truly does increase.
Here are a few little things that I’m grateful for today:
Brigit’s hurt paw is healing – no more limp!
a wonderful vet in Lyons
walking by the river with Brigit again
talking with my friend JW yesterday
time to write
something to write about
hummingbirds at the feeder
Buffalo ridge outside my window
hubby and daughter coming home tonight
my spiritual ‘sister’, JP
friendly checker at the market in Lyons
finding gorgeous organic kale at the market
thunder rumbling – a cool rain is approaching
seeing the stars last night
the lavender bushes in my yard
smell of pine in the air every evening
it’s still green here in July
writing of Celtic mystic Tom Cowan
watching my kids grow into adults
cycles and rhythms of the seasons
my husband David’s voice on the phone
my daughter Izze’s laugh
my son Henry texting me and telling me what’s up with him
granite rocks – I love granite!
hot chai in a mug
little surprise cottonwood tree that rooted in the garden
a sudden mountain rainstorm this afternoon
Getting Naked with you
Ahhh, I feel better. It truly is the little things that make the most difference in my life.
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How about you? What are you grateful for today?
There is a sacred ground that is calling to us to heal now; it is the ground of feminine energies that hold and nourish life. This feminine ground can be found in the dirt of mother earth that holds and nourishes a tiny plant seedling, and within the womb of each woman that holds and nourishes a human embryo. Both plant and human require the sacred ground of mother to sprout and grow new life.
I read of a young woman being brutally raped and left for dead on a bus in India. I turn the page and read of Mother Earth being raped and polluted in a search for oil in the tar sands of Canada. And I feel the same energy in both acts; a hatred and a dishonoring of the feminine. It is the male warrior energy run rampant, forgetting the sacredness of the feminine body.
The feminine body has been objectified and mistreated for generations. Both the female womb and the dirt of Mother Earth have been dishonored and defiled again and again. Entire cultures and religions curse and blame the feminine for our human fall from grace. Those that don’t understand the gifts of the feminine have tried to stifle her wisdom and annihilate her power.
We fear what we do not understand. But how can we possibly kill what holds and nurtures each life? If we kill the mother, we kill ourselves. And even when we deny the sacredness of the feminine, the mother quietly continues to perform her sacred magic, holding ground for every new life.
Mother is so quiet, dark, mysterious and yet so nurturing; the feminine gifts look and act nothing like the male energies that are prized today. These feminine gifts are so misunderstood, and yet so necessary to heal this world. The power of the feminine lies within an expansive holding, supporting and nurturing energy that is difficult to pin down; visualize the warm safety of mama’s lap; feel into the quiet stability of the earthy ground and you will be on the right track. Knowing the feminine is best done on a visceral and emotional level.
It takes a quieting of the mind and a wondering heart to grasp the gifts of the feminine energies. Watch a mother with her baby; sense her gentle nurturing and quiet loving presence. Or go outside and sit with Mother Nature; just sit and be still. Breathe, watch and listen to Nature. The wisdom of the feminine whispers in the ripples of the water and the gentle opening of a flower. It is there in the growing tree limbs that arch toward the sky and the roots that burrow into mother’s dirt. Our earth mother holds a quiet space of wisdom, always there beneath the surface of life. She is a mysterious, flowing and constant presence.
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The ground of mother whispers that it is time now to heal the feminine. The mother is quietly, yet insistently calling to us. She is demanding that we remember her gifts and honor her sacredness or perish. It is time to heal our relationship with the mother.
I have decided that it’s time to be the Queen of Me!
Seriously. I have been exploring the Celtic concept of being sovereign. This was a foreign idea to me until recently; something I had never even considered. But being sovereign in your own life is a key part of the Celtic belief system. And being of Scottish and Welsh descent, I tend to naturally resonate with all things Celtic. So, a few months ago, I began researching Celtic sovereignty. And I have been slowly teasing out what sovereignty means to me. And that’s how I became the Queen of Me. 🙂
My Celtic ancestors viewed Mother Earth herself to be the sovereign ruler of all of life; in ancient Ireland, mere mortal men were made kings only after they acknowledged and honored the sovereignty of the land. I completely agree with the idea of Mother Earth’s sovereignty; none of us would be alive on this planet were it not for the bounty of food, water and oxygen that our earthy mother provides. Mother Earth rules human life, whether we choose to acknowledge and honor her or not.
But what exactly do I mean by sovereignty? The dictionare defines it as:
Sovereignty n.
1. Supremacy of authority or rule as exercised by a sovereign or sovereign state.
2. Royal rank, authority, or power.
3. Complete independence and self-government.
4. A territory existing as an independent state.
Hmmm, yes to governing myself, yes to being independent and to holding royal rank, authority and power within myself. And the terms ‘state’ and ‘territory’ imply set boundaries to me, which every human is expected to honor and respect. Yes to honoring boundaries. A BIG Yes to sovereignty over my self and every part of my life.
When I dig further, I discover that ancient Celtic Shaman placed sovereignty at the center of the Celtic wheel of life. In many depictions of the Celtic wheel, the Tree of Life sits sovereign at the center or axis mundi of the circle. The Celtic Tree of Life holds the center, reaching limbs up and roots down to connect heaven with earth. And the tree spreads out horizontally from the center of it all, making connections with the 4 directions of north, east, south and west. I find it so beautiful and appropriate that my Celtic ancestors chose the tree to symbolize holding center and being sovereign.
A Celtic spirit wheel depicts the Celtic view of life in much the same way the Native North American medicine wheel depicts their view of life. When I look at one of these sacred wheels, or physically walk within one, I get a visceral sense of sovereignty; I understand in a deeper way how important it is for each of us to consciously own ourselves; to claim ownership of our bodies, our thoughts, our emotions, our actions and our beliefs as we live and interact in the world.
In their book, Goddesses Who Rule, Beverly Moon and Elisabeth Benard link the word “sovereign” to the Sanskrit word sva-raj, which means “self-rule”. Another meaning for raj is “luminous” or “radiance.” How fitting – embracing sovereignty is not just about ruling over one’s self but also allowing our inner luminous radiance to shine in the world. When we are sovereign, others are not allowed to control our fate. We empower ourselves. We give ourselves permission to shape ourselves and our fate and create the life we truly desire.
What would it look like if I were truly sovereign in my own life? Nelson Mandela comes to mind when I try to think of a person that embodies my idea of sovereignty. Nelson was never Celtic by any stretch of the imagination. But when I look back at his history, I see a man whose entire life revolved around being sovereign; he stayed true to himself and held on to his own knowing and dignity during decades of imprisonment. And after his release from prison, Nelson tirelessly championed the cause of the black people gaining sovereign rule in South Africa long after most men retire from public life.
Ultimately Nelson Mandela became an icon; a symbol of the transformation that is possible when a simple human being lives in the knowing of their true wisdom and worth. He held onto himself and his knowing, even when ridiculed and abused for his views. And he transformed his world. For me, Nelson embodies sovereignty in every sense of the word. As he, himself once put it…
“I am the captain of my Soul.” ~Nelson Mandela
I claim sovereignty over my Self. I choose to captain my Soul through this life in the quiet, eloquent way that Nelson Mandela embodied. I claim sovereignty. And I understand that just my intention of claiming sovereignty over my life changes everything. My journey shifts and deepens. This is another turn along my spiral path.
Celtic Tree of Life
an original design by Welsh artist Jen Delyth ©1990
www.celticartstudio.com
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Invictus
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
by
William Ernest Henley
My Dad passed last week. And this week I have many memories coming up about him; things he said and did, what I loved about him and also a few things I didn’t like so much. One of my favorite memories is hearing him call me Goldilocks. Goldy or Goldilocks was my Dad’s nickname for me. Even in his last days, when I would visit him, he would look up, smile and say, “It’s Goldy!” when I walked into the room.
I liked being called Goldy. No one except my dad has ever called me that. So, the nickname passes on with my dad, which is a little sad. But I had many years of being called Goldy or Goldilocks, and the name still makes me smile. Goldy actually referred to the golden blonde hair I had as a child. But Dad also used the name because he said, like Goldilocks, I would search and try out new things until I found the one that was “just right”. So true, so true! I still do that. Apparently I was picky and unwilling to settle even as a young girl. 🙂
I still search and push to find that one “just right” thing. I have found amazing houses to live in because of my constant quest for “just right”. And I love finding just the right restaurant, hiking trail, lawn chair or vacation spot. Searching for “just right” also led me to shift careers and try a lot of different jobs until I zeroed in on a profession that truly suits me. And my inner life is so much richer because of all the spiritual traditions I have explored over the years while searching for one that was just right for me.
But searching for “just right” can also be problematic. I have to be careful that my “just right” search doesn’t degenerate into a search for perfection. Yes, there is a difference between perfect and “just right”. Perfect has an obsessive-compulsive energy to it. When I get locked in perfect mode, it feels absolutely necessary to attain perfection. For example, when writing I sometimes get sucked into searching for the perfect word or phrase. And I feel compelled to keep trying and trying long after a reasonable person would quit. I can waste a ton of energy and make myself completely miserable when I fall into perfect mode.
The search for “just right” is more relaxed than perfection – there’s nothing necessary about finding “just right.” In the fairytale Goldilocks could sleep in any of those beds – she just wants to optimize her comfort! So Goldy takes a few extra minutes to try out every bed. There’s nothing OCD about it. “Just right” is about exploring all the options. “Just right” is nice to have, but not necessary.
My Dad is gone now, exploring in other realms. But while he was here with me, he taught me a lot about life and myself. I love that he found my “just right” quest interesting and amusing. Another parent might have turned this personality trait of mine into a problem. But Dad embraced me and my “just right” quirkiness. I love remembering that.
Happy Travels Dad.
Love –
Goldy
I take an early morning walk; it is already promising to be a hot day. But here by the St. Vrain river, it is still cool and juicy and green. The dog and I wander down the river trail and I begin to see seeds everywhere… Seeds dangle above me, below me, in front of me. Seeds on grass stalks, trees ripe with seed, every weed flowering and throwing off seeds in the wind. Every plant seems to be going to seed right before my eyes.
Seeds symbolize potential for me; each seed is a tiny, little pocket of possibility. From a biological perspective, seeds actually hold the blueprint for all of creation on planet earth. EVERY bit of life here starts with seed; seeds are the source of all the plants in the ocean and on land. And every animal on earth, including you and me, began from a tiny fertilized ovum seed.
After decades of gardening, I am still amazed each time I witness life forming from a seed; I plant tiny black seeds the size of pepper grains in my garden, and within weeks, tiny seedlings sprout and transform into big heads of yummy green lettuce. Nature orchestrates a miraculous transformation from seed potential to juicy plant reality in just a few short weeks.
“You couldn’t hardly believe there was life in them tiny things,
some no bigger than grains of dust, let alone colour and scent,
if you hadn’t seen the miracle, could you?”
~L.M. Montgomery, Anne’s House of Dreams
One tiny plant seed, combined with a little water and sunlight, will grow into a cottonwood tree or a clump of grass. Or maybe even an entire meadow full of blooms. The creative possibilities from one seed are staggering. Every single little seed holds magical possibilities. And Mother Nature is obviously a gifted magician.
I walk by the river, spying seeds at every turn. It is as though nature is teasing and taunting me with the abundant possibilities of life. The sight of seeds dangling from every tree, bush and grass stalk is so outrageously over the top that I cannot help but smile at all this abundance. And it is just the message I need today; I’ve been working on a book for months, struggling to create a structure that will hold the ideas that want to burst forth onto paper. But this particular piece of writing is as slippery and elusive as an eel, slithering away each time I think I’ve finally got it pinned down.
I have been trying to grab this elusive book and hold it still so I can define it, but it defies all my efforts at solid definition. This particular book creation seems to thrive on chaos and confusion. And the final shape of this book is not remotely in sight yet. I find that I am a bit fearful of not having any sense of where this book and I are going to end up. Like most writers and artists, I love to pretend that I am in control of my creative process – even when I know in my heart that I’m not! When I am honest with myself, I admit that my husband’s view of my writing being some type of mysterious, organic secretion process is actually more accurate!
But here, on the river path this morning, I look around and see how Nature is absolutely pouring her creative juices into a future that can’t yet be seen. Mother Nature doesn’t sit and whine about not being able to predict the final shape of her creative efforts; she doesn’t refuse to proceed with seed production until the future is defined and absolutely known. Mother Nature just creates. And keeps creating. I believe she creates just for the sheer joy of creating.
I look around at all of Mother Nature’s creations and I remember that creativity is more about allowing than controlling. My attempts at control usually end up killing my creative flow. Creativity LOVES freedom and unconfined spaces. And my own writing moves into a magical space when I stop worrying about the final outcome, and just open up and allow the flow of ideas, the flow of words to come out in whatever form they choose to take today. The final product will take care of itself if I can relax and breathe, and just follow today’s flow. Relax and allow the words to flow without trying to clamp down and judge them or filter them or manipulate them.
I breathe in the sights and scents of Mother Nature’s creative abundance. I breathe and feel myself relax. Like every seed on my path today, this elusive book knows what it wants to become, even if it won’t reveal itself to me yet. My job is to allow it to flow out into the light of day and to water it with my loving attention.
I wonder if I can relax and enjoy watching this book shift and grow from week to week? Can I embrace this little shape-shifter instead of fighting its process? I wonder if I can learn to revel in all the possibilities that this seed of a book contains?
“It is a denial of the divinity within us
to doubt our potential and our possibilities.”
~Faust
