Finding Brego

As so often happens in this journey, things have unfolded more quickly than expected. We had planned on waiting to look for our home on wheels until after Christmas. Then yesterday, we found it, after Will did a search and discovered signs that pointed to the right place to find it.

Preparing for the trip to Tucson yesterday, we sang and called in the Spirit of the directions and of this beautiful desert. We opened our hearts to be of service to the Sacred Source. We asked to be certain about this decision, since this is a relationship with a “good horse” as well as a new home. We decided that we would like the sales person and that we would know instantly if we were in the right place.

It unfolded with small and large signs – the RV dealer is “Freedom RV” which mirror’s Will’s blog of Freedom, Simplicity and Joy. A horse symbol appeared on the advertised model we went to look at — horse and the name Brego having come to us during ceremonies and drumming. This 15-year-old, well-tended, 30-foot Winnebago was being sold on consignment by a woman who left it fully equipped from dishes to repair manual – much in the same way we left our rented house for the next family who moved in after they lost everything in the Paradise (Camp Fire). On top of it all, I had sensed for weeks what Brego would cost and that was what we paid (plus a modest fee for the dealer to go over the whole creature and replace any worn parts.)

We drove Brego a bit in an empty parking lot and that gave me the courage that I can ride this big creature. Once all the repairs are done, they will give us several hours of orientation – training us in the care and feeding of our new companion. They even include an over-night stay at their lot so we can try everything before we drive it down to Sierra Vista.

Maybe the most important development of the day was the breaking through of my tender heart. Since the busy weeks before leaving Mount Shasta, I have been living in such a tense way that the tears have not been able to flow. I was teary eyed much of the day yesterday – overcome with the grace and generosity of the Universe as we live into our vows to be of service to the Earth and all her Children.

We do not know where the road will lead us, but we move one step at a time, looking to our hearts and the wisdom of sacred helping ancestors, animal guides and the unseen world. We will enjoy each day we share with family, and every new path and trail we discover.
Thank you all for your companionship and encouragement along our way.

A special thanks to those of you who contributed to our Tiny House fund a couple of years ago – this is our new tiny house. I also deeply appreciate the people who had loaned funds to NW Bookbinding to help me move forward in that direction, and have forgiven those loans with this change in life direction. I hope still to pay forward the generosity all of you have shown.

Getting on the Road Together

One of the greatest joys and greatest challenges of the journey is staying in synch with the man I love. This is very much a shared calling – yet it is the calling of two individuals who each must follow our deepest wisdom and overcome our worst fears. At times, the most we can do is be with the other person when the waves crash over him/her and allow our presence to provide a reference point as our beloved reemerges.

As we did the final clearing up around the house, we hit a wall. This is not moving from one house/apartment to another. There is no destination that we are planning to reach and no “fixed abode” that is at the other end of migrating to Arizona. We are not moving a household, we are lightening our load for travel on through our lives. Once we shifted to packing as though we were moving halfway around the world to an unfamiliar culture, the barriers eased. We are not trying to find out how much weight our ox can carry forward, but seeking to become light enough to fly.

There is the feeling that we have been preparing all of our lives for this next chapter, and at the same time, none of that preparation fits this set of circumstances. It calls both of us to connect with the core of our inner power and wisdom, standing with as much clarity and purpose as possible. At the same time, the vulnerability of it all draws us into a new intimacy and honesty with one another. There is no room to walk away or conceal emotional weather. We are learning not to refute nor take on the uncertainties of the other. We are not asking the other to be strong; to know what to do; or to walk with equanimity through this unknown territory. We are simply pledged to walk with one another through it.

We are currently with friend in Chico, where we lived for 17 years before moving to Mount Shasta. The familiarity of the place and the warmth of our hosts and friends is giving us some breathing room. Upper Bidwell Park has offered broad, blue skies; slightly muddy trails and open vistas. Yesterday, there was a large golden hawk riding the currents over the rolling hills. A wonderful reminder of the invitation to keep our heart light and open to be carried on along our way.

(While this post was written Dec. 3, it seems an important step along the way. So, I will post it today, and follow with news of more recent steps in the journey in the coming days.)

Potlatch to the Fullest

Just over two weeks ago, we held our estate sale and celebrated a sense of Potlatch release of much of our furniture and a number of decorative items. The following Thursday, Paradise, CA was transformed by wildfire in a few hours from a thriving mountain town with over 15,000 homes and businesses to rubble and a chemical smoke cloud that has yet to dissipate. There are a few buildings still standing, but most of the 27,000 people who lived there lost everything and are grateful to have walked away alive.

We had been planning to leave our 3-bedroom rental house some time early next year, and then stay in the Chico area for about a month for a few last appointments. Suddenly, that all shifted. We told our landlord that if he found a family from the Paradise fire who needed the house, we could be out Dec. 8. This was a bold move for us, especially with no way of seeing what our next housing step might be. Yet, the image came that, if need be, we would get everything into the Subaru and when we reached the end of the driveway make the decision about what direction to head.

For a couple of weeks we have thought that there might not be anyone ready to make the move because of the slow process of aid and insurance money when there is a tragedy this big. The night before last, our landlord called, excited that he might have found the perfect family for the house. Yesterday, we met the mother/grandmother of a three generation household and the fit was perfect. She, her daughter and grandson will move in December 5 and they need as much of our remaining furniture and household items as we can leave behind. Now, instead of trying to find “good homes” for things in thrift shops and as donations down in the Chico area, we are free to drive away with just those things that will fit in our new RV life.

The other piece that fell into place was that we decided that our health-related care can be done as easily in Arizona. When Will spoke to our son, he and his wife told us we are more than welcome to spend December in their home while we look for our home on wheels. So, we are now in the last two weeks of packing, storing some things, preparing the house for its new family and experiencing the fulness of Potlatch.

Everything we have is free to flow to these four people who have lost so much. And they in turn will pass along anything that does not serve them. We are part of a community functioning like the ancestral peoples — when life transitions occur you release everything to those who need it. Potlatch is being fulfilled more beautifully and powerfully than we could have imaged.

The Path to Potlatch / Bonfire

ash-bonfire-branches-266751

The challenge of writing a blog once or twice a week is not to limit it to the final outcome of a process, but to be honest about the steps along the way.

This past Saturday, we held a Potlatch/Bonfire sale to release the first big wave of our furniture and household items. We had been planning the event for weeks, but it wasn’t until the Monday before the sale that we started the physical work of moving things out into our living room and kitchen to include in the sale and clogging the corners of the bedrooms with things that were not going yet. There was a physical sensation of congestion and confined energy about having bookcases and desks and boxes of knick-knacks stacked around waiting to be set free.

On Tuesday, it felt like things just got worse. We did get out to the Gateway trails to walk and sing, but the house felt more and more a jumble. The psychologic/energetic threads tying us to one thing and another felt especially tenacious. Thank goodness that when one of us lost focus, the other would suggest that we drum, journey, spend time seeking the wisdom of helping spiritual ancestors.

Will has been playing Freedom songs, including a powerful Freedom Trilogy by Odetta and albums by Joan Baez, Pete Seeger, and Arlo Guthrie. These songs reinforced a call to freedom; to break from the cultural slavery that imprisons us in a marketplace economy, never letting us dream of real liberation. Odessa’s powerful voice also gave us the phrase, “I’m on my way, and I won’t turn back,” to inspire our forward movement.

Thursday, I started my walking/singing with the feeling that I was dragging a heavy weight behind me and would not make it up the first hill. But gradually, opening to the wisdom of my spirit guides, I found assurance that the freedom beyond this current transition is not just for me/for us. The timing and the form are important links within a chain which is being created to help support those who, for whatever reason, need to flee the mainline culture. It pulled me back to my call of dedicating my life to serving the Earth and All Her Children. My body lightened and my singing flowed.

We both went through times of getting caught by cultural conditioning of, “How much do we need to get for this item?” On Friday, we put prices on most things and on Saturday we pulled them off. We did ceremony and drummed on Thursday Night; drummed again on both Friday night and Saturday morning. We had to turn again and again to our spiritual ancestors and our open hearts to help us stay focused on the path we are choosing.

Gratitude was also vital to the process. One afternoon, I went to many of the pieces we were offering and used Murphy’s oil soap, a gentle vacuum massage, a gentle rubbing with soda… to give each one loving care. I sang to it and thanked it for how it has served us. I also told it how much I hoped it would find a fulfilling new home.

By Saturday morning, we had two images. One was of the Potlatch tradition of the People of the Pacific Northwest of this continent. For celebrations of life transitions, you would gather with the tribe and give away everything you possessed – letting it pass from your hands to others effortlessly. This transition in our lives felt perfect for a Potlatch. Through Friday and even Saturday, more little things I had been keeping “just in case,” came out of hiding to be offered.

The second image was of putting a huge juniper log onto a fire and watching it release all of the energy it has contained for decades to create light, warmth and energy. Our “sale” would be Potlatch and Bonfire. Releasing the energy of long-held possessions to bless other lives.

People began pouring into the house an hour and a half before the stated starting time, and waves of people in and items out surged through the morning. There were many sweet moments of taking a small stack of quarters for a kitchen item, or just handing a picture or book to someone who showed a love for it. We watched with tenderness as many stayed caught in the “how little can I give you for this?” mindset, and found it easy to let them walk away satisfied with their victory in the bargain hunt.

The day culminated with a lovely extended family sitting in our living room waiting for a brother to arrive to look at a chair. They had purchased a number of small items and three large pieces of furniture. As we waited, I gave bells to the two little boys. When they left with one of the last big items, we gratefully put up a “Sold Out” sign, knowing that the rest will find its way to a friend who is moving or to the thrift shops.

The fire had burned away to leave a spaciousness and freedom in our home. The Potlatch had redistributed our goods, reminding us that nothing really belongs to us.

We are deeply grateful.

The Prison of Our Culture

prison Our American culture and economic system has imprisioned millions of us and has no intention of setting us free. Our jailer would be glad to see us die in captivity, clinging to the bars of our cell, striving to pry them apart or appealing to the holder of the keys to let us go.

We are taught from childhood what we need: a good education; an upscale car; a spacious house; and all of the things that make life more comfortable. So we go to college and amass debt. Then we get a job to pay off the debt, only to need a new car for transportation to the job. Then we gather convenience items and distractions in order to quiet ourselves after we arrive home exhausted from work.

We are given credit cards and encouraged to ignore the actual cost of what we purchase, so that we end up paying 20/ 30/ 50 times for an item we bought ten years ago that was designed to wear out in nine months. The credit card companies charge interest at 15%+ and the banks give about .01% on our simple savings accounts.

We start a family and therefore need a larger house, plus feel the need to cover all of the expenses of seeing our children safely through college. The debt continues to build and we work more hours and spend less time with family and more with distractions. We grab fast food and try to find time and money for the much needed vacations.

We are told that we can not possibly retire until we have paid off the mortgage and have a substantial amount of savings so that we can continue the same lifestyle through the end of our lives. What we are not told is the number of people who die at their desks or have their bodies give out under the strain of continuing to try to pry the bars open. Our economic system depends on us never giving up the struggle to get ahead, to continue to gather all the things that are supposed to make us happy and secure.

As I was seeking deep wisdom for our transition out of this culture and economy, the thought suddenly appeared, “You will stand at the prison bars forever shaking them and struggling with them, and the jailer will never let you out. But if you will turn around and begin walking the other direction, you will find that you can walk through the walls that you imagine hold you in.”

The culture and economy can only confine me if I believe their lies. They tell me to be ashamed of my debt and afraid of the idea of living on a monthly budget of $1,000 – $2,000. My heart tells me that I need a forgiveness ceremony to let go of self-punishment for not succeeding in this system in order that I might step fully into a life of “just enough.” The culture warns me that I must not end up running from my financial responsibilities. My heart tells me that I can choose to walk away from an abusive and manipulative financial structure, as I would leave any abusive relationship.

My culture tells me that I have to have health care coverage based on the belief that my body is a machine to be quickly repaired when it breaks down. My heart tells me that my body is part of the endless dance of energy and that when illness or injury emerge I need to listen for what it is teaching me for my own evolution. I will die, as all will die. But if I fully live my days, dying will just be the next step of the journey.

I am going to turn my back and walk away from the bars. In the coming weeks I will share more posts about this aspect of the transition. I hope you will join me in turning around and beginning to walk through the imaginary walls.

Twelve by Twelve

via Twelve by Twelve

By William Martin

This fits so well with the discussion of the appropriate size of dwelling and the mindset that accompanies it, that I am sharing this guest blog from Will’s Freedom, Simplicity and Joy site. I had hoped to repost the whole piece, but have been having human error problems. For now, I am glad to send you to his site which holds added riches that you may also enjoy.

Transformation Built for Two

Throughout our nearly 30-year marriage, my husband and I have been blessed with a deep connection that allows us to make life shifts and changes in unison. Whenever we have made a physical move, or shifted to a new focus on our spiritual journey, there was not a sense of one leading and the other “coming along.” Instead, it is as though we both become aware of a shift at about the same time. Often if feels like we have already turned the corner to a new way of being and then notice the shift.

It is the same with this transition. It a transformation built for two, on every level of our lives. We don’t remember which of us first voiced the desire to live in harmony with the land and to connect with the ancient wisdom of the People of the Land.

I know that Bill has spoken often of his desire to live with the simplicity of a mountain hermit. Images from the Taoist tradition lead him to want to follow Lao Tzu and get on an ox and head out of the culture and into the mountains. Another image from him is that of living as a turtle who carries its home on its back.

I have been drawn more and more to images of living in the way indigenous people have lived for centuries – in intimate harmony, balance and honor with the land and all living beings. I long to sink into relationship with the life expressed in nature and learn the wisdom it alone can share.

A couple of factors came together to set us on this course of changing our housing as part of living in a new way. One was that we shared in an on-line course with Sandra Ingerman on Shamanic Journey. I have been involved with this work for a couple of years, but this was the first time Bill joined in and found that he too was drawn to drumming and journey. So, we came into step with one another in a new expression of our spiritual journey.

Another factor was that I let go of bookbinding as an essential element of my future. Every time I began to think of living in a tiny house or RV, I just couldn’t imagine the presses, cutters, supplies and tools of my craft work. The moment came when I realized that this is not something at the core of who I am. It is fulfilling, and indeed probably saved my sanity at an earlier point in my life, but it became clear that it does not have to come on the road with us.

Our drumming and journeying is sometime together as ceremony, and sometime separate. Again, much of what we experience is just for the one making the inner journey, but sometimes the wisdom encourages and focuses both of us.

We have been sharing hikes, but usually allow a good bit of distance between us. Bill’s longer stride carries him out ahead of me, and we are each left to sing; open to the beauty of nature around us; and to spend time in deep listening to the wisdom of our helping spirits and guides. Afterward we share insights that emerge. Sometimes there is a phrase that will emerge that gives us a touchstone – so we remind one another of it from time to time.

Our current catch phrase dropped in as I was waking up one morning into the usual mental chatter of all of the challenges and details that lie between where we are and where we hope to be next summer. It was a vivid image from “The Two Towers.” Gollum is leading Sam and Frodo through the Dead Marshes and has warned them not to “follow the lights” that shine up from the marsh. If they do, they will be drawn down into the depths and light little candles of their own. It is not long before Frodo becomes mesmerized by a presence in the marsh and falls face first into the marsh. Gollum pulls him out and lays him on solid ground, but while he is still holding him by the lapels, he says, “DON”T FOLLOW THE LIGHTS.” So, whenever one of us gets caught by the conditioned morass of things that have to be done, the other gently reminds him/her, “Don’t Follow the Lights.”

I am deeply grateful that my primary companion in this transformation is my beloved husband. There are others who help keep our feet on the path, but this is indeed a transformation built for two.

A Gift From Skunk

We live in a hillside house, with the forest reaching up just beyond our small back yard. In the early mornings, we enjoy taking our coffee out to sit in the yard and watch the birds and small critters bring the hillside to life.

Last week, we were enjoying our coffee (and celebrating that there was no smoke in the area from nearby fires) when a different odor drifted in. It smelled a bit like when you walk along a trail recently visited by a bear or a content skunk, but it also struck us as a little like propane. Of course, once that idea occurred, the smell seemed to come from the far end of the yard, and be growing. Since we had just had the propane tank filled at the end of the previous week, the idea that something might be wrong with the tank soon took full hold.

We called the propane company, and they said that to be safe it was time to get out of the house and let them come and check the tank. So, in the spirit of bugging out, we got dressed, grabbed a few things and headed into town. Within the hour, they had called back with the news that there was no leak and that the tank was fine. But, they also decided to change it out just in case, since it was looking old and worn.

That afternoon, Bill was talking with a neighbor and the man commented on the skunk that had wandered through that morning. Now if it had smelled obviously like a skunk spraying or like a dead creature along the road, we would have recognized it. Since we didn’t, we wondered what, beyond one more bug-out practice, the skunk was offering.

The next day, they traded out the newly filled 600 gallon tank for a new 250 gallon tank. (This works fine for us, since the hot water heater is our only propane use.) They have not figured out our revised bill yet, but it is likely that instead of owing the propane company about $750 for topping the old tank for the winter, we will probably have some credit waiting on the account when they fill the new tank in the spring.

I can easily become preoccupied with the financial and practical challenges of making the move to our more simple and earth-connected way of living. I am grateful to Skunk for the reminder that there are many unexpected possibilities that may emerge to smooth the way. Even as we work with the details, I want to stay focused on honoring the Earth and being dedicated to helping Her and all Her children to heal and thrive.

(Skunk’s other gift is the reminder that things are not always as they appear.)

Eagle’s Point of View

As I look forward to the transformation of our lives — toward living in harmony, honor and peace within nature — my habitual mind wants me to focus on the specifics. It has all kinds of questions about the what, when and where of this transition. It wants to pin me down about how life will work with all of the day to day details. In general, it wants to push for answers I do not have, in hopes of boxing me back in and convincing me to stay the culturally approved course for someone my age and background.

Also, we have told friends and relatives that we are preparing to birth something new in our lives. This puts us in a communal as well as individual gestation process. Those who love us are being asked to integrate a different image of Bill/Nancy into their experience. They have to find how it fits with who they have known us to be; their images of appropriate living in the senior years; and their own life experiences and inner voices. We know that this it not an easy thing for some of them to do, and so we will stay quiet and open, hoping to respond to them in a way that mirrors their love for us.

Both of these processes tend to throw me into the mental habit of “figuring things out.” Yet, at the core of this journey is the heart, and not the brain. My human perspective can not lead me through the inner transformation that is involved in stepping out of the main culture into a life lived for the healing of Mother Earth and her children. For that, I seek the spiritual wisdom within.

I recently asked, in a Shamanic journey, if there is a power animal guide who has specific wisdom for this transition period in my life. Golden Eagle is the one who appeared. My perspective can not be earthbound, but must be broader. The focus should be on “weaving an appropriate human expression within nature.” (I am not quite sure what that message means). This is not about a change in the size and shape of my home, but in my understanding that I am not a separate being in relationship with nature and light, I am nature and light – one strand in the web of all life.

Eagle offers to carry me, so I can gain perspective and so I can learn his trust in riding the air currents. There is no illusion that I will control Eagle in his dance with the wind. The way events, people, circumstances and created things flow in, around, and through our lives will remain a mystery. Not all winds are gentle or sweet. We do not need them to be. Learning to trust that all of the experiences of life are moving on currents that nurture our becoming is the heart of this journey.

So, I will continue to listen with my heart, and to focus on what it means for me to become “an appropriate weaving of a human expression within nature.”