The Solstice is about the return of the light and so I thought I'd find poems, stories, and images that talk, one way or another, about Light.
The Buddha’s Last Instruction
“Make of yourself a light,”
said the Buddha,
before he died.
I think of this every morning
as the east begins
to tear off its many clouds
of darkness, to send up the first
signal – a white fan
streaked with pink and violet,
even green.
An old man, he lay down
between two sala trees,
and he might have said anything,
knowing it was his final hour.
The light burns upward,
it thickens and settles over the fields.
Around him, the villagers gathered
and stretched forward to listen.
Even before the sun itself
hangs, disattached, in the blue air,
I am touched everywhere
by its ocean of yellow waves.
No doubt he thought of everything
that had happened in his difficult life.
And then I feel the sun itself
as it blazes over the hills,
like a million flowers on fire –
clearly I’m not needed,
yet I feel myself turning
into something of inexplicable value.
Slowly, beneath the branches,
he raised his head.
He looked into the faces of that frightened crowd.
I'll be reading a paper again at the annual Conference on Pagan Studies at Claremont School of Theology in January - I always leave so inspired by the people I meet there. I wish that the Pagan movement was not so marginalized by our society, because every time I go, I remember how very urgent the work of re-weaving our spiritual identity back into not only human community, but the community of Gaia, Mother Earth, really is. When I think of it, most of my numinous and magical experiences happened in the wild, within the Great Conversation.
EARTH, WIND, FIRE AND WATER
Stone, rounded in my hand
tell me your story - the secret waters
that shaped you,
veining and coursing into darkness
humming their songs
of bones, pottery shards,
stones smoothed past memory or telling
be my teacher.
Hawk, tell me what you see.
Small on the ground, I am blind.
In widening circles you write an
incantation for the far journey
in the sky. Be my teacher.
Fire, speak, if you will.
Illuminate the shadows
filling this careful house of sticks
I have built. Burn me empty and full,
teach my feet to dance.
Fire, you be my teacher.
Rain, tell me. I am listening.
Your voice is a multitude,
your story grows
in the telling. Into the mouth
the mouth of the ocean,
this song you sing.
Rain, you will be my teacher.
(1993)
~My help is in the mountain~
Where I take myself to heal
The earthly wounds
That people give to me.
I find a rock with sun on it
And a stream where the water runs gentle
And the trees which one by one give me company
And so I must stay for a time
Until I have grown from the rock
And the stream is running through me
And I cannot tell myself from one lone tree.
Then I will know that nothing touches me
Nor makes me run away.
My help is in the mountain
That I take away with me.
Earth cure me. Earth receive my woe.
Rock strengthen me. Rock receive my weakness.
Rain wash away my sadness. Rain receive my doubt.
Sun make sweet my song.
Om Tare, Tu Tare,
even in the darkest prisons, you offer your hand
Your touch cools hatred and grief.
From you, the demons of delusion fly
Praise Tara, whose fingers adorn her heart
Light radiates from a wheel in Your hand.
Valerianna mentioned Jewell in her recent comment, which is magical, as I had just written this entry which talks about energy work Jewell facilitated. I've been reading "Journey of Souls" by Michael Newton recently, and I felt like sharing a very important vision I had in 1997, a vision that became the inspiration for all the masks I made dedicated to the Goddess Tara. It was a profound gift.
In 1997 I was finally divorced, and all ties were severed between us. The ending of the marriage did not bring out the best in either of us, and I felt a great deal of remorse, emotional confusion, and grief. In my effort at growth that summer, I went to a well known energy healer in Massachusetts, Jewell. She put me on her table, and I went almost immediately into a trance state.
I found myself watching what seemed like a "clip" from a movie - each scene was rapidly replaced by another scene. I still remember some of these "vignettes" vividly - a ceremonial room decorated with thousands of orange marigolds; an emaciated old black woman lying on a dirty bed; a heavyset white man with glasses, bundled up in a kind of fur parka; African drummers, drumming with passiona around a fire, and more. Gradually, I felt myself "pulled back", so that I seemed to be watching these scenes from a greater distance, as if they formed a patch-work quilt. I remember thinking how incredibly beautiful it all was from that perspective, a work of art.
Then I became aware of an immense energy - a being that radiated (there's no other way to describe it) tremendous compassion. She had no form, just white light. The only thing that seemed identifiable was that I felt the Being was female; and I felt she was communicating something like "Don't take on so, Lauren, look at all of this. You'll meet again. You can move on now." I might add that she also radiated an equally huge sense of humor; I felt like a child getting a hug from an angel. If that makes any sense........
And then I came to on Jewell's table. After we spoke, I learned that Jewell often began her sessions with a prayer from the 21 Praises to Tara, a Tibetan prayer to the Goddess Tara. To me, that visitation was White Tara, Goddess of Compassion, manifesting to help me move forward to a new stage of life. I've revered her ever since.
I wanted to write about the Goddess TARA from Buddhist Tibet, and share a story about my own "encounter with Tara". But I feel before I do that, I'd like to share the work of an extraordinary woman who has devoted her life to bringing the Blessings of Tara to literal life, in dance and in prayer.
Prema Dasara has traveled throughout the world, creating devotional dances based upon the Tibetan Prayer, the "21 Praises to Tara". It was my privilege to attend one of her teachings in Portland last spring (hosted by Lena Grace, her assistant, and her husband Jack). Prema and her students are bringing the Blessings of Tara to many places with their prayers that are mandala dances devoted to the 21 different aspects of the Divine Tara. It's powerful work, and I greatly admire Prema, Lena, Jack, and their Friends I was privileged to meet while I was there.
Please visit Prema's website to learn more, and find out about her schedule for the coming year.
My counselor, a pragmatic and wise psychologist, has listened to many of my synchronicities, metaphysical ideas, tales of goddesses, and magic over the years; I've often wondered if she doesn't secretly think I'm nuts sometimes. The other day she surprised me by handing me a book by Stanislof Grof, one of the early pioneers of LSD and altered states, and one of the developers of contemporary transpersonal psychology. She encouraged me to write about my "out there" stories, as she felt I would find a "defining pattern" in so doing; she said that all of our stories are important now.
I've copied below a video and link by Dr. Grof*, in which he talks about a term he coined called "Holotropic Consciousness". I suppose my own term might be "Web Vision". I do agree with my counselor...........we all need to "tell our stories" now. From the Telling a fundamental unity can be glimpsed.
I think my (non-physical) guides have quite a sense of humor. Years ago, when I was thinking of doing a performance with the Masks of the Goddess in Tucson, I kept waking up singing an obnoxious old surfer song, with a chorus line that went "She's real fine, my 409" (the 409 was a '60's car). I never could figure out from what corner of my psyche that song was dredged from until much later, when I noticed that "Restoring the Balance", the best event I did with the collection, was held on April 9th, 2004.
Lately I've been singing "Lady Godiva", another old song from the 60's, which has been equally annoying as a mental "muszak". According to legend, Lady Godiva rode naked on a horse through the streets of Coventry, England, to ease the tax burden of the citizens imposed by her husband, who agreed to relieve the toll if she did this. The song was recorded in 1966 by Peter and Gordon. Pulling out my Jungian Inner Pun book, I decided that it had something to do with "Goddess" - "Lady God" and "Deva" being what I get from the word. "Coventry" is an interesting addendum to the idea, in that the actual definition of the word "coventry" means:
"the state of being banished or ostracized (excluded from society by general consent); ie, "the association should get rid of its elderly members--not by euthanasia, of course, but by Coventry"**
Thus, "coventry" is the opposite of "coven", "covenant", or "to convene", which means to bring together. So, addressing this syncronicity as one might seek to interpret a "waking dream", with multiple layers, I would say that I am reminded that the Goddess, the Divine Feminine, has too often been banished from our world, to our great detriment. Lady Godiva, naked for all to see, rode through the streets to protest and defy her husband's cruelty and injustice. It is further interesting that the pop song is about "Lady Godiva" becoming a porn star, trivializing the story and turning the Lady into a kind of prostitute*** - which is what has so often been done to the Goddess in the course of patriarchal mythology, except when she appears in the guise of a dutiful wife or mother with a submissive role.
Robur d'Amour commented that there is a Lady Godiva procession which is an annual event in Great Britain, and he very kindly provided a photo, which I take the liberty of copying below. In his comment (on this post) he also provides a link to a photo from a 1911 procession led by Druids.....further indicating the symbolism of the Lady. Of the picture below (thanks Robur):
"This is a very recent procession........Miss Godiva now wears a body stocking."
Hmm. Now, I asked, can I hum something else, like maybe the "Ode to Joy" or a little Paul Simon?
But there is one more postscript: just recently I was offered the opportunity to attend and present a workshop at the Goddess Conferencein 2011 in Glastonbury, England. I'm delighted to go and meet these wonderful folks who carry on the Lady's work ........more on this later!
****"Whore" possibly derives from an ancient Semitic word, "Hara" or "Hora". It's original meaning may go back as far as Babylonia and Sumaria, when women served as priestesses, thus, it was related to a title for a fertility priestess. To this day, a circle "fertility" dance, the "Hora", is still danced at Jewish weddings.
Last night I heard a speech by Bill Moyers, in which he made a profound argument for resisting the manipulation of the media, so much of which is controlled by corporate interests and fear-based propaganda. So, since the "Season of Giving" can sometimes feel more like the "Season of Gimme", I felt like writing about a few "Heroes" - people who are quietly living lives of amazing generosity every day. It's been my privilege to meet a few "quiet heroes" personally, and I want to encourage any who may be interested to read about (or support if you can) their projects. The truth is, people like this are all over the place, doing kind, transformative, generous work. This is the kind of news we need to hear a whole lot more of.
First, Marc Gold and the 100 Friends Project. I met Marc when he came to Tucson for a fundraiser ...he is a retired teacher from California, who now devotes all of his time to raising money and travelling around he world to distribute it where he finds it is needed.Here's what one of the original "100" has to say:
"My good friend Marc Gold has built one of the most captivating projects (and one of the most interesting lives) that I know of. While traveling in the Himalayas in 1989, Marc (probably) saved the life of a destitute woman by pulling a few dollars from his pocket to fund her emergency medical care. Struck by Actually Experiencing the huge difference that small sums of western money can make in so much of the world, Marc, before his next trip to Asia, wrote a letter to one hundred of his friends. He told them the story of the destitute woman, told them that on his upcoming trip he was going to share more of his money with other impoverished individuals, and promised that if any of his friends would like Marc to give away some of their money too, he would gladly do that -- and report back on the whole adventure. Marc guessed his friends and family might send $300-$400, but they sent over $2,000.
From that beginning Marc has spent the past two decades building The 100 Friends Project. His current goal is to distribute, person-to-person, a total of $1 million (I joke to Marc, a 59-year old teacher who has lived "paycheck-to-paycheck" his entire life, that his goal is to become a "reverse millionaire"), and it seems that he is well on his way." (http://www.100friends.org/)
I met Dana Dakin when I taught a "Masks of the Goddess" class at Kripalu in 2008, and sat open mouthed while she shared her story over dinner. Inspired by Olga Murrey's work, she decided she would start a micro-lending program to help impoverished women when she turned 60. She put her intention out into the universe, and was led on an amazing adventure that became Women's Trust of Ghana; now a model program that recently won the prestigious Purpose Prize Award. Here's a little bit of her story.....
"In the 1980s, I met a woman named Olga Murray celebrating her sixtieth birthday. To mark the occasion, she was heading off to Nepal to start an orphanage. Her vision, courage, and determination left an indelible mark on me. In 2003, the orphanage and Olga were still going strong and I turned sixty. Based on the adage that life is lived in thirds, the first third you learn, the second third you earn, and the final third you return, and with Olga as a role model, I decided to greet the youth of old age with my own way to give back. I also knew that whatever I did it had to benefit women and girls. This was reinforced by the information I repeatedly uncovered that all social indicators are positively impacted when you help women to help themselves; their families and their communities are the beneficiaries. The next step was to decide where to begin a microfinance program.
I had a personal trainer Tetteh, a delightful young Ghanaian man, whose father lived in Ghana. My reading indicated that Ghana was a relatively safe place to travel with English being the language of the government. These were very important criteria. Being a woman planning to travel alone and not being much of a linguist, I began to talk to people I knew about my idea of going to Ghana to find a village where I could start a microfinance program. I contacted my alma mater Scripps College to speak to a professor who had been featured in an article in the alumni magazine about her research on Mami Waters, a West African goddess. All were helpful and moved me to another contact. Making the plane reservation was the hardest part.
On March 2003, with my stomach in knots, I boarded my flight for Accra. The following day I explored Accra, got my feet under me somewhat, and wondered in my jetlagged state what I would do next. My feeling all along was that the village I would adopt would be in the northern part of Ghana where the poverty was particularly acute. I received a call from the front desk that there were two gentlemen to see me. Passing through the lobby I noticed two men – one elderly in a flowered shirt, pants, and sandals, and the other in a long white caftan, bearded and barefoot, and carrying a staff. “Well,” I thought, “that’s not them.” And, of course, it was “them”. The older man was Tetteh’s father, and his companion was a fetish priest from a village just north of Accra. They were to bring me to Pokuase village where they had located a room in an inn run by the only white person in the village. Checking out of the hotel, with suitcases in tow, I got into their car and away we went."(http://www.womenstrust.org/content/dana's-story-founding-womens-trust-inc)
And here's the story of the woman who inspired Dana, leaving for Nepal to start an orphanage at the age of 60. As I subscribe to the Foundation, in her 80's now, Olga is, indeed, still going strong.
Olga Murray had fallen hard for Nepal – so hard, in fact, that she slipped and fell on a trek in the Himalayas. Carried for days in a basket on the shoulders of a Nepalese porter back to Kathmandu, she consulted a young Nepali orthopedic surgeon who had just opened a small hospital for children. Day after day, she saw kids with the most terrible disabilities being brought to the hospital, often carried for days down mountain trails, accompanied by dazed relatives, many of whom had never been out of their villages and had never seen a car or electric lights.
Some of these children were abandoned at the hospital by families too poor to feed a child who couldn't contribute to their survival. Others were so badly disabled that they couldn't get to school over the mountain trails when they returned to their villages. Still others had intolerable home situations.
With friends, Olga began giving scholarships to some of these kids.
And last, a local Heroine, Kathe Padilla, who I met while she sat with her very modest brochures at a card table at the 4th Avenue Arts Faire. Kathy spends part of her time in Tucson, and part of her time in Zambia at the orphanage and school she helped found near Lusaka. In Zambia, a recent census shows that as much as 60% of the population may be under 20 years of age. Her story is simple; she learned that there were as many as 10,000 orphaned street children in Lusaka, and being a mother herself, decided she just couldn't stand it. She went to Africa to learn what she could do.
"In 1999, Kathe Padilla flew to Zambia to see how she could help the growing number of orphaned children living on the streets of Lusaka. With a group of concerned Zambian professionals, she organized the first Board of Directors of what came to be the Chishawasha Children’s Home of Zambia(CCHZ)." http://www.zambianchildrensfund.org/about.html
Based on the adage that life is lived in thirds, the first third you learn, the second third you earn, and the final third you return, and with Olga as a role model, I decided to greet the youth of old age with my own way to give back. I also knew that whatever I did it had to benefit women and girls. This was reinforced by the information I repeatedly uncovered that all social indicators are positively impacted when you help women to help themselves; their families and their communities are the beneficiaries. The next step was to decide where to begin a microfinance program. 
Some of these children were abandoned at the hospital by families too poor to feed a child who couldn't contribute to their survival. Others were so badly disabled that they couldn't get to school over the mountain trails when they returned to their villages. Still others had intolerable home situations.
