05.18.22

    I noticed the other week that there'd be a shift. I tend to notice changes in cycles, crests of waves, full moons, etc. I'll sit on the little wooden bench outside and look into the sky and say "Yep, there it is." Or "Well, that's that." One energy to another. Sometimes it takes an event in life to lift us from what I call "phase lock". These are just repetitive energies and feelings that run behind like so much script on a software platform. Occasionally, an update comes along. The truth is that you can choose to phase lock with whatever you like. I remember running videos with majestic mountains in the background while I worked on other projects, only to find myself in the midst of those very mountains a couple years later. This is one of the fundamentals behind Theta work, which is akin to reprogramming those phase locks through intention by accessing the subconscious. Many of us do it automatically anyway. We might be great imaginers of narratives and stories that we'd like our lives to look like. We grab a pair of oars and embark on this great journey and navigate by the stars and plan accordingly, but it requires a lot of trust; a lot of faith and self-belief to leave that shore. But oh, for the mere possibility of seeing what's out there...

   I notice these little shifts. Most recently after the full lunar eclipse. I noticed thoughts coming in rapid-fire sequence. Whatever core thoughts and questions appeared, a myriad of answers and possibilities fractaled off and out into the ether like tiny paths, like embers flickering into the sky above a great fire. The next day it was gone, replaced by a sort of quiet clarity about myself and my story. I felt grounded, immersed in my own energy. Hanne and I both said "It doesn't feel like Monday at all." Tuesday didn't feel like Tuesday, and this morning doesn't feel like Wednesday either. I always welcome these shifts, whatever they are. They've indicated some kind of upheaval in the greater phase locks and cycles, that you don't have to operate with the same assumptions as before. A good time for reflecting and meditation; for starting new ideas and new narratives. For me, it's been about the meaning behind being an adult. There's been so many situations in the past couple years where my former self would have retaliated or stood behind some endless backed-into-a-corner argument or skulked off until society noticed how little I thought of it, but there's something to be said for simply standing in your truth and letting others stand in theirs. When push has come to shove I've stated my case and walked away. I don't need validation from the mechanical puppets at Disneyland. I need visions of springtime flowers and memories of the Alps. I need challenging projects that keep my hands busy. I operate on dreams of all kinds. 

Last month we inherited a 1950s wood and canvass canoe that used to belong to my grandfather in California. He and my uncle Kim, who passed away within a week of my mother took it down the White River ages ago. Then, Randy and my mother inherited it and took it on many adventures as well. Then it hung under an open garage port in the Verde Valley for some time until we lifted it onto the roof of our CR-V and strapped it down on copious amounts of padding and hauled it to Flagstaff where it lives. I've decided for a full restoration, minus a couple hairline cracks here and there. The canvass has been stripped off. All the little components and doodads and long-running wooden things that I forget the names for have all been removed and placed aside. I've watched video after video on the restoration process and each week I do a little when I have a free hour or so. Everything must be sanded and hydrated and patched before the canvass can be reapplied and pinned down and painted. All good things come slowly. 

It's summer now. It's hot. It's good to sweat. Good to feel the sun in the morning. We're still looking for the right place to settle (a little). Visions of A-frames, gardens and good places to sit for morning coffee. Simple stuff that rejuvenates. In the meantime, it's good hikes and good people. Quiet little embers.