Tag Archive | relationship

Deep Listening, Deep Seeing

DesertDawnSky081114Rainstorm! Thunder! Lightening!

Across the night sky my heart was beating and I heard it in Her voice at play among the clouds in our union. My body in bed relaxed into the moments; whisked away to the inky infinite I was at peace, serenity of mind and body attuned to the symphony held among the stars tossing themselves across the expanse as they danced in a lacy play of cosmological badminton.

A breezy, cool 70 degrees welcomed me on an early walk as the clouds created a soft batting above and I could look directly at the dawning sun — we beamed at each other while the hills were a splendor of rust and emerald, rock and plant. In the opposite distance, the western horizon was blinking itself awake with half-closed eyes in wrinkled pink and violet. 

The air was, and is still, heavy with suspended silken water that absorbs into my skin and, deeper, into my cells — I am fluid, flexible, bending like the slender hop seed branches. The Santa Cruz River is flowing, there are puddles in the Sonoran Desert, and I am full in our Oneness — a well-spring opened.

Solitary, I sit outside sipping chai — no dogs are with me for, being a weekend, they would bark at any noise in the neighborhood. This is part of my new practice of growing a deeper silence: a few moments of only background noise so that the space around me heals, my aura can feel itself gently pulsing, and I can feel me — alone. To grow, breathe, Be in a state of solitude and learn to relish this quiet separation that mysteriously creates total union with all life. A solitary bee is buzzing near my head, off on its own private adventure this morning while a bird flies overhead, cawing — not a crow, a gray bird who seems a little frantic, searching.

I didn’t even hold my usual indoor sadhana … this moment called for me to be in the outdoors, sitting, listening, Being. The thickened air holds scents more firmly and I know the plenitude of dogs in the area by smell as well as sound, one sense that normally doesn’t alert me to their presence since the usual aridness desiccates droppings rapidly. 

I lightly brush the soles of my feet upon the still-damp sandstone, feeling its softness, and wonder how far it traveled to be here; does it miss its first home? The sandstone — sandpaper-like against the calluses on my feet — breathes, I can imagine the space between the particles where the granules are splashing in puddles like happy grubby children and a subtle melody, a lullaby, whispers itself into existence unheard except by otherly realms found in fables. While walking earlier, my husband pointed out a rock formation upon a nearby hill — a giant turtle rock. The hills are a bounty of shapes and sizes; a little imagination goes a long way. 

My husband rescued (with permission) abandoned rocks from the shelves of the basement at his office, and they are excited to be out in the elements again, once more soaking up the rain and reflecting the sun and feeling the wind whip around their jagged faces. Liberation! 

RockFaceA rock face guards the agave, his solemn expression reminding me of Easter Island giants or totem pole alchemists shapeshifting. His chin is jade green, his lip line thin and stoic beneath a recessed granite nose, broad and sensing all that goes on around him. Green appears painted around deep-set eyes beneath his broad gray brow. His inner cheeks are rusty brown from too much sun as he holds the space around him in safety. What are the minerals called that he reveals in such solid presence?

I had felt the coyotes watching us during our morning walk; they were safely hidden among the wild buffer zone of mesquite and palo verde and cholla. Motionless, they were undetectable by weak human eyes so I only knew them through feeling their eyes upon us, that prickle on the back of the neck; one that could have been a vibration of past presence, who knows for sure. It doesn’t matter because at least I know they are out there, still stalking, breathing, Being. If I were to stand barefoot on the sand atop the packed earthen ‘concrete’ — the hard caliche of the desert floor — could I feel their paws trotting miles away? Does the dense earth of desert pavement carry their vibrations like the stampede of buffalo were heard miles away by placing one’s ear next to the plains grasses on ground that held the sounds of all life, all movement, back to the beginning of time? 

Is Gaia’s body a chamber of resonance across time and space? We talk of a Field “out there” somewhere, but what about the Field of pure awareness that holds the recordings of all manifest form archived within Her veins, cells, tissue and organs? 

Do our rescued rocks, now reconnected with the skin of Mother Earth, speak of their adventures and send their memories into the chamber of knowledge beneath my feet? 

3RocksEach rock has its own forgotten story of excavation, transport, experimentation, and entombment. A story that is a mere blink, but each one unique. In the palest of sage green coloring, a mere blush of elegant residue, the pyramid stone casts healing rays around the yard, its edges rough yet kind, an ancient symbol of masculine principle transformed into healing the wounds of patriarchal ignorance. Three huge guardians, each of different origin, bump shoulders in a corner: green, brown, gray … they anchor us here, determination and courage in their unearthed exposure reminding me that home is wherever I desire it to be, it’s where love is. To go visiting for nourishment and expansion is wonderful … but my human-rock, my Beloved, is here. He, like the boulders, anchors me in safety wherever I am. 

This is our story … rain, desert, rocks … all Beings.

One Hearth


What does it mean to be aligned with Hestia? To be a hearthkeeper? What is it like to designate oneself in the accepted ~ though often denigrated ~ role of “homemaker” when asked “what do you do”?

I tend to structure my days, creating a schedule so that I feel a sense of accomplishment. I’ve done this ever since retiring in 2003 from the 9-to-5 grind of office work. But I find myself more often this past year allowing a day or two mid-week, when Ron is working, to just go with the flow. My sadhana may extend itself into nearly three hours, and that is often the sign that the day needs to be open and permeable to intuitive flow and contemplative practices.

I realize upon reflection that I often allowed this non-structured flow in my single years as well. The years before I met Ron, but while I was still working in an office where a clock and structure dictated the day’s tasks. In those years, however, the flowing days were on the weekends…the solitary times.

What I find, from past and present both, is that truly necessary tasks still get done, maybe in a different order or in a unique way, but done. From cleaning and cooking to animal care and grocery shopping, and all the other mundane tasks, whether scheduled or not everything important eventually is taken care of.

Or sometimes the day is a slumber of presence flowing into each moment that encompasses subtle contemplation; I look around at the end of the day to see that nothing was accomplished, there are no outward signs of productivity. Yet this is fine, too.

I am blessed by the touch of Hestia, though I don’t always dwell in the traditional “homemaker” role. Especially these past several years. Jean Shinoda Bolen, in her book Goddesses in Everywoman, describes the introverted Hestia also as a “temple hearthkeeper” and I now resonate more strongly in this sub-archetypal direction. Familial caregiver energy, and the attention to keeping a tidy and properly-run home, is being shifted toward sacred sharing and extended periods of focus upon the Divine Feminine.

Yet my husband and I remain solid in our connection. Ron and I both refer to our home as our sanctuary. He enjoys our quiet, easy lifestyle, and appreciates the simple, loving energy that I bring into our home. I treasure his kindness and generosity that provide me with the opportunity to enjoy my innate nature.

I believe that the strong partnership I share with Ron, and the reason that our relationship is sweet and easy, is a direct result of Gaia’s presence and support. Gaia’s guidance ~ my own Divine essence ~ allowed me to be completely open and honest with Ron, from the moment we met, about my nature and what was important to me. And yet, I also know that Gaia would have continued leading me into deeper resonance with Her even if I had not met Ron. I was already on the Gaia Path prior to meeting my husband. We are blessed that we both honor one of my roles as hearth-keeper.

What is my current path?

One Hearth for Home and Temple