reflections
June 25th, 2013 INTENTION

What clarity we receive when at least we slow down long enough to enjoy the rising of the sun or the setting. Sometimes full sun upon the body is what is required to rest the soul and quiet the mind. I’ve done neither for some time but recent events in my life have forced me to the natural state of contemplation and the guidance of others as well as literature for the direction of the path I must walk.
Health crisis is nothing new to me, although I have enjoyed wonderful health, those times when I have had to face it the threat has been serious enough to be life threatening. I guess that alone should tell me something.
This process started two and a half years ago with my decision to move North to Idaho to care for my Grandfather after the death of my Mother. It wasn’t so much a decision as the decision was made for me, uprooting me into something that has been both wonderful and terrifying, gut wrenching and life changing, exhilarating and joyful all at the same time.
Perhaps I should be thankful that this process of life is so delicious that I get to experience each and every emotion all at once. But it doesn’t feel that way sometimes.
Of late I have been on a dedicated quest to find the balance between the gifts I have been given and the path that I must tread to protect my family, our resources and build on the ones that we have and also, to keep them.
I do so realizing there are more important things in life than money, fame, power or good luck, although those things are wonderful. But my Mom’s passing taught me that sometimes the best you can do for your family and loved ones is to not only be authentic and true to your highest being but also to preserve a legacy and leave behind the mementos of the love and care you felt for those around you.
Such was the power of the gifts she left me and still does.
I’ve been forced lately to realize lately that not everyone shares my vision, or quest or my assumed clarity of what goes on between the spiritual and emotional energetic realms and reality. I have walked that line for ages is seems. Some people just have baggage. Garbage that no matter how many times they walk past it they cannot get rid of.
I too, am one of those people.
My skin broke out months ago as I began a quest to detox. After nearly bleeding to death and collapsing from exhaustion and dehydration brought about by my insatiable desire to work myself into a more comfortable financial position, I realized that you can detox your body with action (I choose to juice and eat organic and have renounced sugar, processes grains and all manner of junk food – ok out there, those of you who have witnessed my occasional piece of pizza and ice cream! I confess I am not perfect!) but you must also detox with spirit, mind and energy.
Reflecting on some recent events where proof once again of my visionary pursuits is in full view of the skeptics I realized that there is also more. Not only must ones environment possess the attributes of desire, calm and intention, pure and in love with the outcome, so must those you work with along the way if they are the intimate souls with which you partner.
I realized we all have that garbage – layers of it – and that no amount of example can prompt someone to “get it”. They have to “get it” on their own. But at what price to the teacher?
As my skin has cleared and taken on a new and healthier glow, the shedding layers are but symbols of the layers of emotional doubt I’ve carried and reflective of the vivid dream I had the other night where I was sheparding my youngest son through a foreign country. It was Mexico in my dream and I instantly realized why Mexico. I’ve spent some hours there, have an interest in the language, and am familiar enough not to be afraid, but do not know the customs or language well enough to be comfortable.
As I woke I realized that this is a lot like the business transactions I am currently in. They mean more than the financial reward. Like my Mother leaving us her peaceful ranch, my Grandfather paving the way, the torch being passed to me, the only child to stay bravely in agriculture and face its wicked wrath and sweet caress of a summer morning where the cows drink water and moo low, satisfied. A hawk takes wing as the bees work their comb and the horses rest upon green grass.
Two halves of a whole that when one is passionate about the same can wield a sword of emotional whoop ass while at the same time consoling and changing the souls body chemistry so that all one wants is to stay in it a minute longer.
Like my dream of Mexico this world I am traversing is both comfortable and familiar and all at the same time foreign and yet I must guide this business transaction with the love that I would show my young son.
He is now 19, on his own, independent and strong but doesn’t that say something about the one half of the whole that raised him? I succeeded. Not once, but TWICE! Both of my boys are men to be proud of. I am past the horrible tastes of fear one goes through as a parent when they question their choices.
A tarot reading and clearing ceremony of late on the full moon of summer solstice bolstered my resolve and erased my doubt and…no doubt gave way to the torrent of emotion and angry guidance I gave recently to the most stubborn of my students. He shall remain nameless.
Sometimes the biggest lessons we learn are from those that not only challenge us in their helping but also remind us that even if we are not in agreement that at the very least we have the next morning to rise and greet the sun, alone and in meditation, open to the Universe and its messages, unencumbered.
I’ve learned to protect those times. NO TRESSPASSING!
Perhaps no matter how far our paths take us the key is to be open to the messages but knowing when to quit parroting them to those that don’t hear and just move on. Restoring the peace and opening the door for them to learn from the Great Spirit who brought us here in the first place.
For me that door opened with my Mom’s passing. What joyously magnificent and torturous events have evolved to give opportunity as well as take away. How much of these events are a direct reflection of our thought? Our inner demons at play while we dance another tune for others? Or in our honesty, embrace because we haven’t intentioned a different path?
If anything, I’ve learned that when there is recognition of the garbage, take it and get rid of it, cleanse and purge and then, forgive those that can’t and move on.
The wild rose will find all manner of soil to grow. I know. I have one sprouting in the front yard.
Wild roses were my Mom’s symbol. I learned to love them from her. They are everywhere on our l and in Idaho. She would say, “the tree can find what it needs to grow from nothing but stone where no manner of life should be able to survive and so is the wild rose, finding its home wherever it is, and thriving there for our enjoyment.”
Wise words from my Mother, the Sage. Still guiding me, this little wild rose sprouting in my path is but symbolic that like the examples before me, what I ultimately know within my heart and spirit is that we must not exist from a place of fear or lack, but one of childlike joy, open to the guidance of our loving Spirit and the nurturing of what comes with intuitive quiet, meditation, contemplation and action. And so is the manner of life, all at once quiet when necessary and requiring action from us to move it forward, realizing that the outcome will be, not matter what the additions and that in our quest, our strength is only as good as what’s inside of us.

June 24th, 2013 EPIC TODAY

So, my horoscope today says, “you have something to say.”
When don’t I have something to say? Kirk lovingly jokes that my tombstone will read:
Here lies Karina. Boy, she had a LOT to say.
I can’t help it that I was born under a Taurus moon and it seems I was destined to be a natural born leader whether people listen to me or not.
As the wildfire raged in Black Forest and now in Walsenburg, I experienced an odd sense of dread and loss. So many people we know live in Black Forest! In Walsenburg the photos of the ranchers trailing their cattle on horseback to save them from the fire brought back the fearful memories I have as a kid being evacuated from the threat of fire. We first packed up our neighbors (they lived in a tent and summer camped to tend their cattle) and then started with our own items. The southern evacuation border of the Black Forest fire was where Kirk and I lived some years ago.
A couple of days ago my facebook post read, “Today was epic!” Not an exaggeration. It was. Compared to the prior week when I thought I might die. Literally. A trip to the emergency room for a hormone imbalance brought on by fatigue and dehydration brought about a sudden shift in my life that for once sidelined me so hard (like being body checked by a professional linebacker) I was helpless to respond to it except sleep. And try not to pass out repeatedly from blood loss. Plainly…REST was in order. That was the doctor’s orders
Truthfully, that was the ONLY thing I could do!
I am not one for REST. I like my active lifestyle. Stubbornly so. Enough so that the Universe found it within its powers to snap me up short, prove everyone that ever said I work too hard right and give them a platform to lecture to me with nodding and head-bobbing that FINALLY I might listen.
It was humbling. And all at once enlightening! Perhaps blood loss works like that. Passing out felt a lot like the right of passage some cultures adopt. You know the one where they hang by their skin until passing out because it brings about a burst of euphoric epiphany that influences the rest of their lives? Yes, it was a lot like that.
Like these damn, horrible and terrifying wildfires.
I’ve been evacuated due to wildfires several times as a kid. Once I was with my Dad at the local hardware store when the call came. I was enjoying the rare treat to spending time with my Father who throughout his life has been twice as busy as me and now lectures me about the price of too much ambition. We raced home and the fire raged ahead of us. My Dad pushed his little pick-up past 80 mph and we couldn’t beat the fire. It raced over the wheat field and up into the trees ahead of us and roared toward our family home. My Father prayed out load and took time to rebuke the fire. It narrowly missed our family homestead. I still remember the sour taste of fear of watching my Dad in anxious fear the fire would not stop but engulf our home and the rest of the family who were at home. Twice! That’s how many times as a kid we we faced evacuation. The second time us kids were at home. But my Dad had learned from the first fire, the one he stood helpless to stop except in renouncing it spiritually. The second time we kids fought the fire. I ran the backhoe and my brothers the Caterpillar plows to push fire line. We stopped only when my oldest brother was forced to jump from his to avoid being engulfed. That Cat burned in the fire and the memory of my brother pushing the line until it was the very last, almost too late moment is still burned into my memory. I know the horrors. Several years ago I received the phone call our family homestead had finally succumbed the threat of wildfire and had burned to the ground.
I raced from Colorado to Montana not knowing if it was true. My Dad has refused to leave our homestead. He had last been seen fighting fire on the mountain that bordered public land and our land. I knew he would never leave. I remembered how he had cried watching the local lumber company cut trees from the land bordering ours. His was a tender love of his native home and place of his youth. He would give his life to secure it. I knew it.
The phone lines had been burned, the power blown so there was no way to know except to travel back to the home of my youth, which I did, the speedometer of the car rarely leaving 90. I knew if I were pulled over that I could explain to the officer my hurry. It didn’t matter if he understood or not. I needed to be home in the place where so much of my intuition and well-being had been fostered.
My heroic father with all his mechanical power (and I mean he used every one of them) had simultaneously and all at once backhoed, trenched and bulldozed an impenetrable fire zone around our families house that if you didn’t know 100 yards behind the wood encrusted house, an out of control wildfire had raged. He saved our families home and several of those around ours with his bravery.
I grew up knowing how to run the dozer, back-hoe, water truck, dump truck, trucks, cars…anything…to be prepared in case of wildfire. Because my Dad loved us enough to teach us how to survive, solve problems and bravely face adversity. I am praying for the peace and the intuition of those now threatened by these fires to run long before its necessary if they choose and to fight well if they don’t. That is the only way to be prepared, if there is such a thing in this terrible unpreventable tragedy.
Such things bring about recognition of things that before may go unrecognized. Like the full curl ram and ewes Kirk and I saw as we traveled across Colorado not long ago.
REST is for the birds. I am still fighting a racing heart and shortness of breath (very foreign to me) but drive and work we must. And then the sheep.
I could hardly ignore the fox from the night before. Or the owl. But Big Horn Sheep?
They are the symbolism of change, making dreams come true and vision.
As mean as Mother Nature is. She is also, at the same time, gracious, tender and direct.
Two blown tires and a few other delays, (another forced rest which turned out to be stupendously productive!) since Kirk and I RARELY if EVER anymore have uninterrupted time to do paperwork and the necessary steps in pursuit of the DREAM, stops and starts in our day, after sleeping haphazardly crumpled up on the rear bench seat of the truck…Kirk in front (because he is the ONLY person on Earth I know that can sleep with a seat belt stabbing him in the kidneys) and me on the rear bench, tossing and turning because unlike Kirk I am like the Princess and the pea. No amount of cushion can erase that damn pea from beneath, I was invigorated, thankful, amazed, brought to tears by the joy in our lives, the wonder and the amazing events that have transpired of late. I am purposely being cryptic. The situation warrants it and not even wild horses will drag it out of me…just suffice it to say, I am exhilarated and all at once satisfied about the trajectory of things. How odd to think that on the eve of a health wakeup call that most would allow to sideline them that I find myself….SPEECHLESS with wonder?!
That bloodletting event, the one that I welcomed, to purge and detoxify this body and ready it for something new. Tests had already confirmed I had nothing to worry about save bleeding to death, easily controlled by the herbs I fiercely ripped from my Naturopath’s hands after the ones from the Emergency Room had worn off brought me out of my fanciful stupor I am invincible. I wasn’t afraid. I’ve almost died a thousand times. But not epic today.