ORIGINAL BLISS

Wake Up Call

 

He whispered in my ear this morning.

The clock read 6:30.

What the eff??? He couldn't wait for a decent hour? I mean, I work nights...I had a 14 hour overtime shift I was trying to rest for!

But nooooooooooo....what does he know about timing?

"I wish people would remember the things I did in my life, the way I acted toward people, the things I said to them, how well, and deeply, I loved and cared for them."

"Uh huh," I mumbled, rolling over, trying to find a cool spot on the sheets.

"People say they understand, yet the words they speak and the way they act, don't reflect that."

"Yeah, I know." I squish the pillow over my ears. "Please please please let me sleep." I say that just to myself, not to him.

"They spend a lot of time pointing their fingers at the very same people I devoted my life to...the poor, the sick, the hungry, the outcasts. Their words ring of judgement, not love. They separate rather than unify."

He was on a rant now.

"They say it's the truth, but it isn't my truth. It is the complete opposite of how I went about fulfilling my life's purpose. 

Yet, they do it in my name!

Which, quite frankly, pisses me off...

even more than that day when I went all hyphee in that temple."

"Jesus!" I half cried, half took his name in vain.

"Yeah."

"Duuuuuude! I'm really trying to sleep here and your getting all deep and philosophical and shit. Does this have to be right now?"

"Well, it is the only time you slow down and shut up long enough to listen."

True that. He got me there.

He was quiet long enough for me to start slipping back into La-La Land.

"I wish people would realize that my second coming was never going to be me descending from the clouds on a golden UFO."

Oh, geez....I'm awake again. That's gonna bum some people out.

"My second coming is every day...

in every heart...

the moment you remember WHO YOU ARE...

that we are one...

and when you take up my mantle and continue the work that I started."

He let me sit with that. I mean, what could I say? He was right. As usual....

I started drifting back to sleep.

"Hey, Shannan."

"Yes, Jesus."

"Could you imagine what kind of world it would be if just one person remembered who they were for just 10 seconds?"

I could imagine that.

"Could you imagine them in that moment being completely full of the love they were created with?"

I imagined that, too, and smiled. 

"And then, what if they passed just a fraction of that love on to one other person? Could you imagine the ripple effect that would create? What your world could be like?"

I imagined that, and it filled me with joy, and peace, and a mass of Christ.

"Hey, Jesus."

"Yeah."

"If I blog this conversation will you let me sleep?"

"Deal."

 

 

Namaste,

Shannan

In the beginning..........................

 

In the beginning

..........................

was the song

..........................

..........................

..........................

A sound..........................

         A hum..........................

                            A frequency..........................

..........................

Sweet, infinite symphony

..........................

singing across the eternal nothing

..........................

..........................

..........................

until

..........................

..........................

..........................

something

.

form & structure

.

strings & strands

.

matter

.

mana

.

.

.

The song : the heartbeat

.

.

.

Blessed ॐ

.

Divine Amen

.

I Am

 

 

Namaste,

Shannan

 

Chicken Soup for the Cynic's Soles

There is nothing like a walk in the rain; the hushed whisper of the showers through the leaves, the sweet taste of droplets on your tongue, having the sidewalks and the park all to yourself.

As I strolled the rolling walkways of my neighborhood park, I happened upon an old, oak tree. The recent storms had stripped it of most its leaves and the ground was littered with acorns.

Reminded of a story, I stopped to contemplate them.

I am sure it was Jack Canfield who first exposed me to the story, back when Chicken Soup for the Soul first came out. That was before there was a Chicken Soup for Teens, Chicken Soup for African Americans, Chicken Soup for the Canadian, Chicken Soup for the American Idol, Chicken Soup for the Cat Lover, Dog Lover, NASCAR Lover, Beach Lover, or Your Lover's Lover... (these exist)...

...way back before they started making Chicken Soup for the Soul Chicken Noodle Soup. (uh. yeah. no lie. PROOF HERE! )

Way, way back...before Chicken Soup made you puke.

He talked about how within every acorn lies the potential to be the fully realized oak tree. 

He was making a point, that within each of us there is the potential to realize our greatness, our best self.

Very inspiring stuff.

Until I looked down at them on the ground in various states of smushed and felt the hard slap of reality in my face.

Sure, within every acorn there lies the POTENTIAL... but not every acorn becomes a tree. Not very many even become a sprout. The chances of an acorn elevating itself out of smushed is less then 1 in 10,000. (gotta love Google.)

The only other opportunity for the acorn to become something of itself is by being picked up by some passing creature and eaten. That lucky acorn gets to become squirrel shit.

Jack Canfield did not convey all this in his story. Apparently, squirrel shit does not make good Chicken Soup.

It was fucking depressing looking down at the wet dirt at all that wasted potential. I couldn't help but identify with these pathetic useless seeds and worry that I, too, am wasting mine.

Then I realized...

I am not an acorn.

I am a human. And human potential is unlimited. The only thing that inhibits our potential is our inability to see and believe in the infinite possibilities within ourselves.

I decided that these acorns today were not destined to become squirrel shit and I picked them up off the ground, carried them home, placed them in a bowl on my mantel to remind me: 

 

neither am I.

Namaste,

Shannan

 

Photos taken on iTouch with Hipstamatic camera app

In A Perfect Storm... Perfect Peace.

"Ethereal" Mixed Media Collage, National Geaogaphic Art Journal Series, Shannan Sinclair

I consider myself a pretty strong person. I mean, don't we all see ourselves in that light? After all the pain, heartache and suffering that we go through, when we come through at the other end of it, don't we think, "Damn! I can't believe I made it through that!"

Well, I have a confession. Sometimes.... I don't feel that strong. Oh, I may look like a B.A.M.F. who's got the tiger by the tail. But when I am alone, and trying to hide under my covers... mmmm not so much.

Sometimes, the pain is agony.

Sometimes I feel utterly alone and completely broken.

But I have also experienced something A-M-A-Z-I-N-G in that.

There have been several times in the past couple of months, where I have been in those moments. I have nothing left in me. No fight. No spark. Empty.

And in the very moment of the deepest dispair a strange and perfect peace embraces me, fills me and refreshes my soul.

Just when I think - I can not go on any further... I am restored.

Namaste,

C H E Z

Catch Your Wings

   

 

Wash Away - Mat Costa

 

Float down stream, rivers of dreams
Float down stream, catch your wings
Heavens high, so you fly
Catch your dreams in the sky

But the glaciers have frozen your feet
I can't wait for eternity
And so you watched me wash away
But maybe we'll catch up someday
Maybe we'll catch up someday

 

Sun it sinks out of view
Stars they shine changing hue

But bright lights have blinded your sights
They can't adjust when day turns to night
And so you watched me wash away
But maybe we'll catch up someday

The castles we built were so tall
They only left us further to fall
And still I see them far away
But maybe we'll come back someday
Maybe we'll come back someday

Float down stream, rivers of dreams
Float down stream, catch your wings

The castles we built were so tall
They only left us further to fall
And still I see them far away
Maybe we'll come back someday

The castles we built were so tall
They only left us further to fall
And still I see them far away
As I watch them wash away
Wash away...
Wash away...
Wash away...
Wash away...

 

Namaste,

C H E Z

Being in Amusement

Once upon a time... a long, long time ago...

there was a period in my life when I started having intense and frequent intuitive revelations and premonitions.

Our spiritual senses; clairvoyance, clairsentience, telepathy, etc... are natural gifts that we all have, but we forsake them and let them atrophy because we let our physical senses wear the pants during our living experience.

So although "psychic" phenomena wasn't really new to me, my abilities became so dominant in my life that it kind of scared me. I didn't have names for what was happening... I didn't have control. I couldn't turn it off or on. It would blindside me at inconvenient times.

Rather than seek out a psychiatrist ~ who would have medicated me and suppressed these valid skills ~ I decide to attend some classes to understand and direct it for myself. If you ever watch Psychic Kids and A&E, they do this for youngsters who are "out of control" psychics.

The classes I attended taught many tools for centering and owning your beingness in life. They offered a safe place to explore these abilities... to let them out of the closet and play.

One of these tools was called "Being in Amusement"... and I am amused when I confess I had forgotten all about this tool until very recently.

I have gotten sooooooo caught up in being serious! All of my life has been serious business that must be brought under control and managed. Seriousness is a heavy energy. It is like being cloaked in a fog... with an ominous fog horn sounding in the background. With seriousness comes worry, fretting, effort, rigidity, and overall "poopiness".

"Being in Amusement" is a Zen Buddhist / Sufi way of living your life. Zen and Sufism use humor and laughter in viewing and dealing with the human situation and themselves. As Thomas Moore points out in his book "Dark Nights of the Soul," Zen Buddhists and Sufis can see irony in the most serious situations and their laughter frees their compassion and liberates them from worry.

As I look at some of the heavy situations that dance around me, I am looking through the dark glass, lightly. "Where can I find the irony in this?" "How can a be in amusement as I move through and past it?"

This week I have found some amusement. It has lifted the cloak from around my heart and put a smile on my face.

Namaste,

C H E Z

Theos Ek Mechanes

"In some Greek dramas, a god showed up out of nowhere to cause a miraculous twist at a crucial point in the tale. This divine intrusion was referred to as theos ek mechanes, literally "god from a machine," because the symbolic figure of the god was lowered onto the stage by a crane. In modern usage, the term is Latin ~ deus ex machina ~ and refers to a story in which a sudden event brings about a resolution to a problem."

Rob Brezsny

"PRONOIA is the antidote for paranoia - How The Whole World Is Conspiring to Shower You With Blessings"

I found this little nugget during my morning hunt for inspiration while the coffee was brewing. It reminded me that I need to leave room on my stage for God to drop down from a crane.

Can I get a little drumroll with my divine intervention?

Namaste,

C H E Z

 

The Path of Job

It seems that ever since I made a commitment to serving my highest purpose, I have been walking the path of Job.

For my non-religious, non-Bible readers... Job was a very devout and pious man. 

Apparently, once upon a long, long time ago, the "sons of God" and "the adversary" had a pow-wow with God, during which, God asks Satan what he thinks of his man, Job. Why God cares for Satan's opinion is beyond me... but...

Satan, being the tell-it-like-he-sees-it kind of entity, tells God that Job is only committed because God favors him, shines on him, puts a wall around him and blesses him. Satan, who you have to admire for his balls to say what he says to the Almighty, tells God that if he messes with Jobs "possessions", Job will turn on God and curse him.

God takes the bet and allows Satan to start f-ing with Job's life. While I can't wrap my noggin around God being the gambling type, that's what the Good Book describes.

Satan has a hey-day! He kills off ALL of Job's offspring ~ 7 sons, 3 daughters and whatever grandchildren ~ in a terrible, Katrina-like wind. Satan is also allowed to afflict Job with horrific boils. Job never curses God. In fact, he says even more pious things like, "The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away" and "Shall we receive all the good from God and not any of the evil?"

I have made a type of holy vow in my life; to walk a path of integrity, wisdom and authenticity, to be human yet more divine, to live in this particular dimension, but to be open and explore the multiverse.

I made this vow to my God... and it seems like nothing has gone right since.

Job did not waver in his convictions until the end.

And in the end, his wavering wasn't cursing God or blaming him...

it was questioning him. 

Turns out, God doesn't like it too much when people question him. He, being ultimate creator and all, evidently knows what's best for his creation.

Well, ALL I have been doing is questioning.

Did I do-eth something wrong? Am I being punished? Did God make-eth another wager with the devil and is he allowing-eth him to "f"-eth with me?

Why me?

Now what?

WTF?

Really?

 

As I lay me down to sleep last night, in that soft, fuzzy, alpha space before the theta took hold, I had an epiphany.

I had the idea that this story as a parable... the realm of God being heaven; our higher purposes and divine endeavors and the realm of "the adversary" being terra firma; our material goals, desires and "possessions".

Then I thought of Jesus' maxim, "You cannot serve both God and mammon." 

It startled me wide awake.

I cannot serve the heavenly realms and still be a slave to earthly matters.

I made a conscious decision to evolve; to move from a matter/mind-based existence into soul/spirit-based existence. I am attempting to transcend - blend one realm into another. Both are vying for my attention and devotion. This world of matter bombards me with crises. I feel like all the structures of my life are crumbling to dust.

Am I going to hold fast and steady to my conscious evolution or lose my focus and allow my energy to be imprisoned in the mundane?

Which am I here to serve?

Maybe God (or whatever it is we hold as our Creator/Supreme Spirit) really does know best.

Maybe my life needs completely uprooted and renovated so that the outer appearances (my house, my work, my relationships, my business) match my inner transformation. 

Jesus continues his Sermon on the Mount throughout the rest of Matthew, Chapter 6. His advice is: let God be God. Let him handle all the details. Stop being anxious. Seek first the Kingdom, and all the other things fall into place.

And my favorite, "Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Each day's own evil is sufficient."

Namaste,

C H E Z

Afterthought:

I hope, my dear readers, that you know that my messages do not come from some lofty space, aiming to preach. I write from the trenches, embedded in the darker battles of my soul, trying to work the goodness out for myself. 

The Up/Down, Roundy Round

Rather than reaching for the up or striving for the high...

maybe we should be trying to find neutral.

The Buddha and the Christ say, "No duh, Shannan."

 

 

I never said I was a fast learner.

Namaste,

C H E Z

 

The Clinging

Human beings are dependent creatures; dependant upon water, air, food, warmth, shelter, love and friendship. All these needs can be met in our external environment.

But our soul needs sustenance as well. Without fuel, our light burns out.

We feel that dying ember inside of ourselves and we seek a source to re-ignite us. Out of habit, we go to the same places we get all our other needs met.

Sometimes we go to food. It comforts us when we are low, doesn't it? But after a bowl of mashed potatoes, or ice cream, or Ruffles and spinach dip, our bellies are full, but our hearts still ache with emptiness.

Sometimes we lie in bed, cocooned in our down comforters. When we are cold, doesn't that warm us? How come it does not thaw the chill around our soul?

Sometimes we turn to our friends, our family, our beloved... didn't they once set our wings to flight? How is it then when we have crashed, even that love does not provide us with lift?

A drowning man reaches for a rope, a buoy, a preserver... forgetting the air in his own lungs inflates him and allows him to float.

When times are difficult, we abandon our inner balance, reaching for the external fix. When the external "fails" us, we lash out and further sink ourselves.

It is in these moments we need to cling to all that we know to be good and true and correct and divine WITHIN ourselves. Cling to truth. Cling to acceptance. Cling to the sacred. Cling to the holy.

When I finally go into that space of clinging to the holy...

all gritted teeth

and knotted fists

and primal screams...

it takes a little while, but there is a tiny breath that sighs.

It is such a infinitesimal shift...

a minute gap of perfect peace.

If I am still enough, I may notice it. And if I surrender and fall into it, it opens and expands and it cradles me.

I cannot tell you how many times it has renewed me... saved me.

But like waking from a dream, I always seem to forget and end up going through the same throes and spasms of emotional epilepsy over and over again.

I am writing this post from the dream.

Like a bread crumb on the path from the dark forest, I hope it reminds me the next time.

"We must break completely in order to be made whole.

Purge until empty before being filled.

Die to be resurrected.

We know this ~ but still expect it to be painless."

Namaste,

C H E Z