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Posts Tagged ‘chaos’

Yesterday morning I awoke to the sound of rain. Not the pitiful sprinkle that used to send Sunnyvale, CA sissies screaming for cover, but the kind of steady, friendly soaker that I’ve missed sorely since we left Humboldt County just over a year ago.

I lay there quietly, aware of my daughter Julia and the critters snoozing deeply and peacefully, and felt my spirit begin to expand, refreshed by the steady patter and fragrance and soft air.

And then my reverie was shattered by a horrifyingly familiar sound – a screaming, grinding skill saw, behind the hotel! Rather than leaping around like a madwoman on the bed, shrieking and tearing my hair out, and scaring everyone out of their wits, I calmly followed the noise, and found it loudest next to the bathroom. Climbing up on the toilet, I opened the window and saw –  ohmygod, ohmygod – a huge construction project just across the road, and a big guy sawing through the sidewalk directly in front of me.

By the time I closed the window, of course everyone else was awake, and Julia and I tried to decide whether we wanted to laugh or cry about it. Then I had an encouraging thought. If life really is an oracle, then the fact that this was new construction rather than renovation might be a sign that we’re making progress. (Esoteric, I know … but bear with me, here.)

Heartened by that thought, I called the front desk of our motel to find out if, since this was Monday morning, the excruciating noise was going to go on all week … because, of course, if it was, we were going to have to move on. Happily, the owner had already built a relationship with the construction foreman, and he learned that the rumpus would be continuing for only another few minutes, but would we rather move to another part of the hotel? He would be happy to help us carry our stuff. We waited an hour, and when all remained quiet, we thanked him for his gracious offer and decided to stay put. Which so far has worked out just fine.

To bring you up to date:

Since my last post we have traveled up the west coast on highway 101, through the rest of California, through Oregon (more about this later; we stayed one night in Coos Bay and one in Tillamook), and reached our destination in the Olympic Peninsula, Forks, Washington, Sunday late afternoon.

As far as I knew, Forks was just an old logging town. Little did I know (until my youngest sister Anne informed me) that we’d wandered into teenaged vampire territory. Turns out we’re in the land of Twilight, and, at Annie’s request, I got to enjoy myself sorting through mountains of really tacky souvenirs to find a couple of the worst to send her.

We’re staying at the Forks Hotel, a slightly funky but (obviously) customer-oriented place full of fishermen and hikers. We’re on the edge of the Olympic National Park, within an hour and a half of Lake Quinault (140+ inches of rain a year), the Hoh Rain Forest, the reservation home of the Makah whaling tribe, as well as Port Angeles and Port Townsend, which is one of my favorite towns in the whole world. We even got glimpses of the rugged, snow-capped peaks of Hurricane Ridge, up on the northern edge of Washington’s Olympic Peninsula, on the way.

As you’ll see, we seem destined to linger here, spending a couple of days planning and booking hotels and ferries (Labor Day weekend coming up!), and a couple of days meandering through the sights before we head into Canada.

Now, about the Runes.

As I’ve mentioned, neither Julia nor I have felt well for quite some time, and it begins to appear that at least Sheba, our dog, was also affected by whatever it was back in Sunnyvale. Up to now we haven’t been able to do much more than content ourselves with just putting one foot in front of the other, heading north, planning travel times, booking hotels, plodding along.

Then, a few days ago, somewhere in Oregon, probably Coos Bay, an odd thing started happening. Even though I don’t use oracles much in my personal life, I can’t resist collecting Tarot cards and iPod oracle apps. In addition to weather, shopping lists, to do lists, great games, and all the other app-paraphenalia it’s so easy to collect, I have the Voyger Tarot, Mayan Astrology, I Ching, the Creative Whack Pack, and Runes. My app uses Elder Futhark Rune interpretations, which is somewhat different than what I’m used to, but Runes are great for answering quick questions, so I use it occasionally.

However, back around Coos Bay, the Rune program started popping on every time I turned on my iPod, something that has never happened before, with any of my apps. I even tried leaving the iPod on email or weather when I turned it off … but, nope, there was the Rune screen again, every time I turned it on.

Not being a big believer in coincidence, I decided it was time to ask the Runes what they wanted, so I did a quick reading … and wished I hadn’t. The first reading was generally ominous, so I asked specifically about the next stages of the trip. Ominous. Full of hail storms and dragons. S**T!

I decided to ignore this, but it obviously festered beneath consciousness for a while, because as we drove that day and day after I started remembering some of my other niggling feelings about the next stage of our journey. Every plan I’d made just didn’t feel “right.” I talked in the first post about my internal guidance system, and I guess I just couldn’t get my compass needle to steady itself on a particular plan. No sense of disaster … just “not right,” and “not the right time.” Booking ferries across Puget Sound? Not the right time. Not the right ferry. Go into Canada Monday? Not the right time. Wednesday? Mercury’s retrograde till the 27th. Not the right time, etc etc etc

Then, on the way out of Tillamook, it came to me to just quit struggling to be wholly rational, because that’s not who I am (you’d think I’d have figured this out by now). I asked Julia how she’d feel about lingering in the rainforest area until Monday the 29th, resting, hiking, doing laundry, letting the pets (who had been rioting for 2 days!) settle, and she was delighted.

So, here we are, in God/dess’ country, with time to rest and think and explore some extraordinary natural wonders.

Oh, and by the way? I did another Rune reading about how the trip would fare if we paused in Forks (teeny-bopper vampires notwithstanding) and what did I get for the final, outcome Rune? The empty-headed (excuse me, empty HANDED) leap into the void. Guess this (and the new construction?) means we’re finally on the right track!

You should probably hear from me more often this week, too. I have two other blogs roughed out already, so until next time …hope you’re well and that life’s interesting.

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The day I began my blog I had no idea that the light I saw at the end of the tunnel was actually an oncoming train. Fortunately, it missed us by a hair, but we have been madly buffeted by roaring, clattering and gusting wind as a juggernaut of awful possibilities thundered by mere inches from our noses.

Perhaps if I hadn’t dared the gods with my initial comments about how the chaos and uncertainty of a leap into the unknown keep me fit and refreshed, the past 10 days would have been easier to navigate … but probably not.

I think the real problem lay in two things: first, we were being pressed from behind by potentially damaging circumstances which couldn’t be mitigated, and second, the gifts which I depend on to navigate successfully through life seem to have been blunted to the point of uselessness.

For those of you who don’t know, I’m a professional psychic. It’s one of the three ways I support myself, the other two being writing and management-level office work, and I have for most of my working life cycled through those three modalities as opportunity and whim dictated.

When doing readings for others I’ll often use astrology, Tarot and even numerology, but in my own life I depend on feedback from the world around me to let me know if I’m headed in the right direction, and when it’s time for a change. Jungian psychologist Jean Shinoda Bolen said that there’s so much meaning in the everyday experience of life that it can be interpreted like a dream, and I have found this to be true.

Even more, I’ve found that in my case, if things are going well, then I’m headed in the right direction. If the going gets hard and heavy, then it’s time to make course corrections, and keep making them until the road smooths out again. And often small events, ones most people would consider insignificant, will quickly validate when I’ve made a good course correction. A bird flying past my windshield, a serendipitous purchase at the grocery, a casual remark by a passerby … when I’m alert, that’s normally all the guidance I need. And it works! Usually.

However, for the past year, nothing I’ve done has achieved that shift in energy and circumstance which signals to me that I’m back on the right track. It’s been a complicated, slogging uphill grind since I moved with my adult daughter, Julia, from coastal Redwood country in far Northern California (Humboldt County) to the San Francisco South Bay area, where she spent the past year on a stem cell research scholarship at Stanford University.

A quick bit of backstory, here. My family has allergies and intolerances, and mine (I thought) manifsted mostly with foods and chemical vapors like formaldehyde and petroleum (yep, that foundational chemical of our culture). But when I got to the Bay Area the problems exploded in all directions, to the point where I couldn’t function normally. Foods, chemicals, odors, freeway exhausts, pollen, dust … all of that and more could lay me flat in an instant. Not only that, but it has affected my daughter as well.

Of course, a typical allergy symptom is mental fog, and mine has seemed debilitating this year. I was fortunate to find a truly outstanding allergy specialist who not only believed me (the first M.D. who has), but found a couple of simple, straightforward ways to treat and manage the worst of it until I could get out of the cauldron of triggers which the Bay Area proved to be for me. Of course, part of it involved staying indoors, doors and windows closed, and HEPA Blue Smoke Air Purifiers cranked up high – which, since I’m a fresh air fanatic, I hated!

Even with treatment, though, I’ve essentially been flying blind for a bit more than a year, wrapped in a numbing fog, completely without the sensitivity and mental acuity which I have depended on all my life to inform my choices and decisions.

So, I guess we’re talking about a rock and a hard place, here. The allergies are the rock.

Tomorrow, in “The Gory Details,” I’ll tell you about the hard place, the combination of circumstances that developed into a full-blown speeding train that, as I said, barely missed flattening us. Or at least that’s how it’s felt.

After that, you’ll be up to date, and it’ll be time for musing and reveling in beautiful scenery as we travel up the coast through Washington state, across Canada, and back down into New England.

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One of my favorite oracles – Ralph Blum’s “Book of Runes” – has a tile (Dagaz-Breakthrough) which beautifully describes one of the major themes of my life as an “empty-handed leap into the void.”

When you take that kind of leap, you jump into the unknown without a safety net, heading out into your future without a plan, job, place to live, or other props, surrendering yourself to the forces that are moving through your life. Empty handed leaps are accompanied by chaos and uncertainty, and they require that you stay in the moment, and center yourself like a martial artist, ready to move in any direction in an instant.

I do this often in at least one part of my life – job, relationship, location, even my name – and I find it both terrifying and refreshing. My timing is dictated entirely by intuition, usually in response to increasingly intense inner pressure to head toward something new, to create room to learn and grow. It certainly keeps me mentally, physically, emotionally and spiritually fit, and I’m never bored for long!

The title of this blog is typical of my youngest sister Anne’s inimitable and ego-busting version of anything I’d prefer to take seriously, and, like most of the times she comes after me with a pin ready to deflate my ego balloon, it makes me laugh while also wanting to swat her.

This blog begins with a journal of the biggest empty headed leap I’ve ever taken, a move from northern California to New England, for no other reason than that I’ve never been there, it looks beautiful in photographs, and it promises to be very supportive astrologically. Oh, and it’s closer to several of the universities where my daughter wants to pursue her Ph.D.

There probably won’t be any more posts this week, because it’s getting harder and harder to find my computer under the boxes, bubble wrap and anxious critters.

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