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Posts Tagged ‘receiving’

As I trouble over following my mother’s health directive to administer more pain medications to relieve her of the ongoing suffering bone cancer inflicts, I worry about whether or not she has said goodbye. Not so much to each of us, as we have all been saying goodbye for some time now. I wonder if she will have another chance to really take in the trees outside her window, and the blue sky. Will she ever hear bird-song again and does she need a spin in the wheelchair to enjoy that. I don’t need to ask myself if it matters to her. She is the one who first tutored me in its treasures. Perhaps she has been saying good bye for some time and we are just unaware of that. After all, she is already traveling in both worlds, here and beyond.

I realize some of this is a projection of my own needs and what I want. There is a post going around on Facebook of a forest ranger who was in hospice care and wanted to be in her beloved Nature again.  It never fails to move me. I know that deep call of nature and its healing resonance. If I were ill and could not go outside, I would want the sounds in my room, birdsong, ocean waves, breeze in the trees, whale calls.

Today, Earth Day, I am also thinking of another mother and, in both cases, what it means to say goodbye and how goodbye lives in relationship with hello.

Our earth, Pachamama, Gaia, is our mother and we are her children.

photo of dogwood copyright (c) KJLoh

Thinking how important it is to me to say goodbye, to her, I ask myself, “Have I said hello to Pachamama today? Have I honored her and thanked her, offered my respect?”

As I walked the woods pondering this, offering my gratitude to the trees in particular, I was greeted by more birdsong than I have heard since the approach of winter. I soaked it up, let it re-organize my cells. I regularly say “hello” out loud to the flowers, mushrooms, trees and many creatures I see on my walks and hikes. I wonder, having said hello so often, will it be easier or harder to, someday, say goodbye?

When I consider my own passing, I imagine having said hello more often, having received, really received the beauty and gift of this Earth, will make my goodbye more rich, and sad, yes, but very sweet. I wonder too, how often do I protect myself from a painful goodbye by withholding my hello? Do I imagine keeping my love and appreciation contained will somehow save me from deeper heartache?

If I have not said hello enough will I care enough to preserve the Earth and her creatures. Will I really know what it means to recycle, to conserve, to celebrate the biodiversity, to appreciate the bounty?

One of my teachers, Don Oscar Miro-Quesada, encourages us to honor Pachamama with song, ritual, dance, drumming. Yes, this is a profound and sacred way of saying hello.

And, please know, that if you are not inclined to perform ceremony or join a beach cleanup, your simple hello by way of true observation, connection and reception is more powerful and more healing than you might imagine.

You matter and you may be the only person to ever see that particular blossom, that dandelion seed in flight.

I invite you to join me, to celebrate our beautiful Earth mother, by taking a moment to say “hello” to her. Commune with a tree, take in the beauty of a wildflower, sit by a body of water in reflection. Listen to the birds singing. Stop, pause, if only for a minute, and say “Hello.”

Like beginnings and endings, hello and goodbye exist in the same moment, in a unity. We need to be aware of what we are unconsciously throwing away (and the many more painful goodbyes it may create) when we forget to say hello.

Pachamama, our beloved mother Earth, gives and gives. Your hello says “I see you and I appreciate you.” Say hello, not just today, but every day.

Copyright © April 22, 2015 Kathy J Loh, All Rights Reserved
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“It’s not that we fear the unknown. You cannot fear something that you do not know. Nobody is afraid of the unknown. What you really fear is the loss of the known.” Anthony de Mello

Today marks one year since I moved into my place in the Sierra foothills. What a difference a year makes. I’ve traveled the four seasons here and landed back at Winter and snow again. For the most part, as long as my power stays on (I’m on a well, so it is a big deal), I am enchanted by the snow; its beauty and sublime quiet.

But, before I landed here, I had to make the decision to leave dear friends and a place I knew well that was fairly temperate, beautiful and convenient. Looking back, I find it amazing that I suffered with enough anxiety to upset my gallbladder and my sleep for two weeks before and after making the decision. What you will read below, in italics, is what I wrote a year ago November, but never published. On this first anniversary of living in my new home, it makes sense to take a look back and check in on how it feels to have made the leap. I’ll comment more on this at the end.

copyright(c)dec2013 Kathy J Loh

November 2012

I’m facing a challenge and I don’t need to give you the details, because you will likely recognize the dynamics no matter the particles. The questions are similar when we face decisions about career change, whether or not to have a child, moving, buying, selling, marriage, divorce.

When there is a challenge, I know I am at my edge, my personal frontier of movement. I enjoy traveling the frontiers of my thinking, but in physical reality, where everything is a commitment of form and solidity, I am slow to move.

Indecision is a pathway to decision and it is a detour. It depends on how you work with it.

In our multi-dimensional personality, many voices participate. Some truth is spoken by each as well as lies. I am bedeviled by the Trickster. I want to know before knowing is possible. I want “beyond the edge” to be fairly predictable and it is not.

While the heart loves and works its magic, the mind begins to question in response to the threatened body. I would be at the mercy of my mind’s paralyzing spin if I was unable to discern the energies behind the words I think. What is their source? To what are they responding?

When my heart feels sadness for leaving something, someone, or some way of being, behind, my mind wants to solve the emotional dilemma by telling me I didn’t like that thing, that person, that behavior anyway. It uses its “make wrong” technology to lighten a heavy heart. But, all it does is darken my spirit and fog my vision.

Let me simply grieve. Let me feel deeply the impact of my attachments.

Most of us really don’t change or make changes in our lives until it becomes too painful not to. I certainly hold a lot of compassion around that. We put our dreams on hold indefinitely, thinking there is always tomorrow. I hold a lot of compassion around that too.

The frontier, out beyond our edges, is vast and full of infinite possibility. It is where our dreams await us. We have, in our imaginations and desires, seeded that frontier with all we need to call us forward. What is left is for us to have the courage to leave our outgrown self-images, our old identities and old beliefs behind. We need the courage to face and be with the emotional impact of the chaos that is created by stepping over the edge; that line in the sand drawn by fear. The consciousness of the You that lives in that future already has different beliefs and identities. It has already discovered new ways. You know that, because you’ve seen it in your visions and felt it in your bones even if your personality/ego of today is blind and resistant.

First we dream and dreaming is not enough. It’s time to have the courage and take some form of action.

And so, using my free will, I enter what my current ego self perceives as “the chaos,” wave at the gatekeepers as I step beyond my edge of comfort and current knowledge.

And that is where I left off when I filed the notes away on my computer saving them for a possible blog post that, until now, never again saw the light of the computer screen.

The dilemma was, of course, whether or not to move. More than that, it was whether or not to give myself that long-cherished dream of being what one acquaintance called, a “mountain angel,” living among tall trees on a good chunk of property.

So, how did I fare after I waved to the gatekeepers and made the leap? I was blissfully happy my first several months here. I remember telling everyone that I have never been happier in my life. I don’t know what it was, but I was lifted beyond my expectations. Maybe it was the snow, the elevation, the newness, the proximity of Tahoe and the Sierra Buttes. Maybe it was my local friends and one in particular who keeps me active with snow shoeing and hiking.

Mostly, I suspect that exhilaration is what we feel when we step out into the unknown, because that frontier is the territory of heart and soul and it has been calling for a long time. When we respond to that call, we are received with “welcome home.”

———————————-

What calls to you? If you have a tough decision to make, if you have been putting off your cherished dream(s), you will benefit from coaching with me and certainly a one-year walkabout would get you over that edge and well on your way. Everyone needs support. Let’s talk about how I can be that for you. Email me at kathyloh@coachkathy.com and we can set up a time for that conversation.  Don’t wait another moment. Moments add up to years.

Copyright © December 2013, Kathy J Loh, all rights reserved, including images

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Today, I set down shame:

  • for designing my life to be mostly free of such over-rated complaints as overwhelm and too busy,
  • for creating a work week in which I get to find plenty of time for other people and being outdoors with Nature
  • for doing work that feels so much like play that at the end of a day with a Walkabout client I think “I’ve been goofing off, I need to do some work.”

Today, I celebrate how resilient and creative I am and that I am not “getting away with something.” I CREATED this.

I celebrate with intense gratitude, the beings and aspects of Nature (seen, unseen) that have been with me, loving and guiding me, every step of the way.

My life is not perfect. There’s a lot about it that is really messy and…

copyright(c) Aug 2011 Kathy J Loh, all rights reserved - flower

It is Beautiful!

What will you set down today?  (Boldly declare it in the comments/reply section below and see what happens!)

copyright (c) May 2013, Kathy J Loh, All Rights Reserved including photo.

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“We are cups, constantly and quietly being filled. The trick is knowing how to tip ourselves over and let the beautiful stuff out.” Ray Bradbury

This post is in celebration of:

100 blog posts

60 years on the planet

60 people who got me through some rough times

I began this blog in 2009. It was after I’d futzed around for a year trying to get up the energy to write a book. Finally, I decided to surrender the book and create a blog. The title Full Moon Path came about as a result of seeing a road in Montana named New Moon Path. I was on a road trip at the time, trying to decide what to do about my marriage, my life, my everything. I fancied owning a house in the country down a private road named Full Moon Path and I’d have a red barn, like the one in my night time dream, that housed a stage and a piano. It was a flying dream too and I floated above the barn rafters taking it all in. That was in 2004 and in 2009, I finally put the name to use. It didn’t take long for me to discover that the Full Moon Path is so much more than what it seems; 100 posts about shadow, light, cycles, navigating the unknown; the spaces between.

“There is a fountain of youth: it is your mind, your talents, the creativity you bring to your life and the lives of the people you love. When you learn to tap this source, you will have truly defeated age.” – Sofia Loren

In June I turned 60. 60 years on this planet. 60 wonderful years well supported by a loving family, good friends, amazing educators, coaches and advisers. I was well feted with numerous phone calls, cards, gifts and dinners. I had the exquisite pleasure of spending a week in Tahoe as the guest of my coach and dear friend, Jeanine.  We hiked, explored, collaged our visions,  partied with other friends at the Ritz on Northstar and on the beach at Sand Harbor. Here are some photos from that week.

Lake Tahoe copyright(c) June 2012 Kathy J Loh

Rincon Trail Lake Tahoe

Eagle Lake - copyright (c) June 2012 Kathy J Loh

Eagle Lake

copyright c) Kathy J Loh June 2012

party crashers

copyright (c) June 2012 Kathy J Loh All Rights Reserved

Sand Harbor

I’ve lived a privileged life, a colorful life, an introspective and reflective life, a creative life, a coupled and singled life.

I’ve lived in the most beautiful places on the California Coast: San Diego, Santa Barbara, San Clemente, Marin County and Santa Cruz.

I’ve lived through my personal dark night of the soul and the karmic lessons of betrayal several times over, the kind of lessons that brought me to my knees and found me shaking my fists at the sky pleading “Please don’t ever make me come back here again!”

It’s the people in my life that form the fibers, the weaving of the supportive hammock that held me aloft, saved me from drowning,  these 60 years.

So, I sat down to come up with 60 names I want to celebrate.

The people who were the soft place to land, the homes away from home, the ones who were the first to get the call when everything fell apart, the ones who endured countless “emergency” calls after that.

The ones who helped me see who I am and what I’m made of when the people I thought loved me betrayed me, the ones who re-birthed me, nurtured me and championed me.

All of them told me the truth.

I am not naming the rogues, frenemies and lovers. They hold another position in my life and I honor them too, but they are not the focus of this particular celebration.

I am not naming my family members either, though each and every one of them holds a special place in my hammock.

I smile with tears in my eyes as I write the word celebration because I think of celebration as something with tiaras and loud noise makers, lots of people, music and dancing.

This is somehow quieter. It is this deep river of gratitude that runs through me.

It is so heart-opening to receive the beauty of being loved and cared for by so many others. Try and judge yourself as unworthy, unlovable, not enough (common core limiting beliefs) in the face of so much evidence to the contrary!

So here they are, my friends, my rescuers, my heroes and heroines; the people who were there to pick up the pieces and put them back together again. (There is no order to this whatsoever):

Joette, Lindsey, Leigh, Wendy, Ingrid,

Leslie, Brooks, Jeanine, Cyndie, Jordonna,

Jan, Val, Verna, Lil, Paul,

Kate, Arvid, Dawn, Betty, Elaine,

Mary, Trudy, Judy, Julie, Grace,

Nicki, Karen, Diana, Kathrin, David,

Jann, Jim, David, Sue, Mark,

Jamie, Kathy, Pemma, Karen, Michele,

Tina, Gerry, Cynthia, Judy, Diane,

Mikol, Elisabeth, Gini, Joan, Jean,

Henry, Patrick, David, Leza, John,

Evelyn, Robin, Keri, Margo, Camilla

Here’s to YOU!

I celebrate you beautiful spirits,

beautiful minds and hearts,

beautiful beings, who had a hand in creating me.

I celebrate your honesty, your stories,

your gifts and skills, your laughter,

your smiles, your tears and compassion.

I celebrate your strength and wisdom,

your generosity and playfulness,

your music and your poetry.

I celebrate your patience and your impatience (when you proclaimed “enough!”).

I celebrate the profound gift of being alive to experience receiving, loving and knowing you.

I celebrate you and I thank you for the immense pleasure of your majestic company on this full moon path.

copyright (c) June 2012, Kathy J Loh

A tiara was involved after all!

PS: I wrote a small note of appreciation to each of the people I named to let them know about this post. I cried for hours as I did so and today I have the swollen eyes to show for it. And, I have a softened and opened heart. I recommend this exercise to all of you. Meanwhile, I have many other friends whom I cherish and who did not have to walk the narrows with me, so may not be on this particular list. It’s just a list. This is a party to which everyone is invited.

copyright(c) July 2012, Kathy J Loh, All Rights Reserved (including images)

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What a fantastic day it is for a walk in our SF Bay area!  The weather reminds me of Hawaii, temperate and humid. Thunder rumbles in the distance. Spring has arrived on time with pungent earth smells released by a week of rain, birds chirping loudly, a fledgling hawk screeching as its mother approaches with a meal in her talons, fresh green ferns and yellow daffodils popping out under oak trees on loamy slopes.

Nature’s exuberance will not be denied!

Exuberance! Remember that feeling?

It’s the dog’s tail when you say “walk?”

It’s the swagger of a young boy in his blanket cape wielding his duct-tape and wooden sword.

It’s the twirling, whirling and laughter of little girls.

It’s the giddiness and innocence of falling in love for the first time.

It’s the way the world sings, trees and all.

It’s life loving being alive.

It’s source energy reveling in the experience of physical form.

sunflower

Exuberance is the music that runs through us all, but we have become really good at turning it off, tuning it out, devaluing it, making it an obstacle to getting real. I’m not kidding – an obstacle.

As a child, my exuberant singing at bedtime often brought a “good night!” from down the hall. True, it was necessary for me to get some sleep and it never failed to scare me silly as it stunned me out of my reverie.

Other variations with which we are all familiar are:

“Somebody’s going to get hurt!”

“You’ll poke an eye out with that thing.”

 “Pipe down!”

“Who do you think you are?”

“What will the neighbors think?”  

I laugh when I think of saying these things to the daffodils or the fledgling hawk.

I knew exuberance as a kid. We were all fledgling hawks at some point, circling ever higher toward the sun, that symbol for passion. I had a passion for making things, for creating plays, for make-believe scenarios, for writing stories, for teaching other kids how to do arithmetic on the chalk board in my garage. I would not have called it passion then and I certainly would not have called it exuberance. I would have probably simply said I was having fun.  I had an idea of something I’d like to try and I set about the task of making it real. In those days it was all about what I could create simply for the fun and play of it, the exploration.

As time went by and the educational system got hold of me, my focus turned more to what I could get for succeeding and what the consequences were for failing. Let’s say I was a good student and maybe too good. (For more on success and failure see my last post “Failure and Success.

We say we have lost our innocence. We’ve become worldly. We say we are grown up now. And our hearts are in pain for it all. I’m not totally clear here, but I believe there is a way to reclaim our innocence and it has to do with holding the more real perspective of who we really are.

Say “I am” out loud and let the numinous silence that follows in-form you of a more real you than all the identities and self-images you’ve held could convey.**

Here’s the thing about exuberance – it’s not something that comes to us because of something we do, get or have. It is something that already exists as can be seen all around us on these fine spring days. Exuberance comes from exuberare which is abundance. We are abundant in our aliveness. The only reason we don’t know that, don’t feel it, is because we’ve choked it off, pruned it back, made it a cause for humiliation, embraced cynicism, let fear tell us we can be pretty much exiled for being overly exuberant.

Exuberance is not something we do, it is something we allow. When we are exuberant, we allow the life force to sing through us freely. It moves us, it makes noise, it dances, it celebrates. My guess is it also keeps us healthy.

If you’ve lost your exuberance, your passion, don’t go looking for it. Stop judging it, criticizing it, blaming it, stuffing it. Allow it to live in you, through you.

Invite life to express its magnificently creative self through you,

as you…

the only you that ever was

and ever will be.

Yes you,

my darling snowflake,

my dancing mirage of stardust,

you!

** for more on “I am” see my post:  Tree of Life (the Movie) and I Am (not the movie)

 copyright(c) March 2012, Kathy J Loh, All Rights Reserved

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“Your matter matters.” Tantra Maat

You matter!

Why? How do I know?

No matter what you do, who you are to others, where you live, it comes down to one thing:

You matter because you are here. (And you are here, because you matter.)

We are are the frontier extension of source energy that is ever expanding. We are the pioneers, the messengers and the creators.

We matter, you and I. (The emphasis being on and, because it is not about or, or even about more than, less than.)

Maybe, if we allowed ourselves to embody that, everything else would fall into alignment.

Astrophysicist Dr. Neil DeGrasse Tyson was asked by a reader of TIME magazine,

“What is the most astounding fact you can share with us about the Universe?” This is his answer.

copyright(c) March 2012, Kathy J Loh, All Rights Reserved (except video)

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“The words ‘I am’ are potent words; be careful what you hitch them to.  The thing you’re claiming has a way of reaching back and claiming you”.  ~A.L. Kitselman

I saw the movie Tree of Life last night. It’s a long film and more a collage or kaleidoscopic adventure than linear story.  It’s definitely more art than entertainment, though I found it to be both. It’s definitely a feast for the eyes and perhaps the soul. It met with mixed reviews from the audience, but then so did Impressionism, Symbolism, Cubism; you name it.

About half way through the movie, the guy eating popcorn next to me checked the time on his watch. When it was over, the woman behind me sighed loudly and said “Oh thank God. That was awful.” (I wondered why she found it important for the rest of us to hear that and why she stayed through the entire film.  Why spend precious moments of life voluntarily enduring something that causes you pain?) In general there was a huge question mark hanging in the air in the theater as everyone made their way to the aisles and back to “reality,” speaking in muffled late evening voices or simply walking together in silence.

I carried that question mark home with me and it wove itself into my dreams and threaded its way into my first waking thoughts this morning.  Never mind trying to come to grips with some missing details in the storyline like how old was the boy when he died and whatever happened to… or what was being said / not said about afterlife.  Never mind, as well, how much I related to a story set in the 1950s with an authoritarian parent and the death of one of the children.

What I was sitting with (or what was sitting on top of me) was the paradox of significance and insignificance.

In the film, we are treated to amazing scenes of the Universe. The sense of space as infinite and time as eternal is awe-inspiring.  I felt so small while viewing those images. While making breakfast, I continued to feel the tug of war between my desire and passion for creating a life I enjoy, making a difference while I’m here and some sense of nihilism. I experience both extreme discomfort and huge relief when I ask myself “what’s the point?”

I took the paradox into my morning meditation / contemplation.  After getting myself deep into a meditative state, I found myself saying out loud:

I am significant in my insignificance.

I sat with that for a moment and then I said:

I am insignificant in my significance.

I let it resound in my being for a moment, without answer, just experiencing the impact of the words.

Then, thinking I would say “I am both”, I found myself uttering:

I am

A huge wave of energy washed through me. I can’t describe it better than that and I can say that the tears (OK sobbing) came with the wave and it was not sadness, it was more like gratitude. I saw a sun floating before me that I decided to take into me. It filled me with another wave that forced breath in and out of my throat chakra. It was the breath of life. That’s what it felt like; like the first cries of a newborn babe.

The mind, being the wonder it is, may look for connection with the biblical verse from Revelations:  “I am the alpha and the omega.” But, honestly, I have no need to follow the mental thread any further. I was in the experience and what I knew for sure was that something was coming online.

Some part of me that I’d left for dead was recognizing I’m alive and that all that matters is this gift of Life.

This gift of Life is exactly that, a gift and not something we have to wait to live until we’ve earned it through our good deeds, our political, spiritual or eco-correctness. It’s not a reward for achievement(s); not a destination on some far horizon.

The generous giver of the gift only wants us to receive the gift. Receive.

I don’t think we are expected to give anything back. Our generous receiving is our giving.

Those redwoods I hear singing in celebration when I listen deeply – perhaps they are singing joyful songs of “I am.”

copyright(c) October 2009,KathyJLoh, All Rights Reserved Soquel Hills

We spend a lot of our lives adding extra words to “I am.” By those words we define ourselves and others. We lay claim to our specialness in a way that leaves us bereft of our true uniqueness. 

We get our knickers in a bunch over what to say after “I am” and we get confused if what we think we are conflicts with what we wish we were. We carry the baggage of the words by which we call ourselves around with us, adding more and more through the years. Some of those words are lovely and some, downright degrading.

Perhaps all we need is our name (which in many traditions is the source and the resonance of our life power) and to know that at the root of every name is Love.

As one who is Love, we are each and every one, significant.  We are the unique expressions of creation; the vehicles through which creation gets to play in form; sees and is seen, hears and is heard, knows and is known.

In our sense of time, this unfathomable timeline of eternity, my life, your life, is but the blink of an eye, as it is said.

At the same time, all that is and ever was is now and the blink of an eye is a major event in the now.

copyright (c) July 2011, Kathy J Loh, All Rights Reserved

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