A Congressional Love Affair Needed

-Prissy Hamilton

It appears that Congress isn’t very sympathetic to the American people as a whole. Most folks realize that lobbyist are always there with their hands out to pay off or give money to the cause that they want, that will benefit them. That is greed, pure and simple. They aren’t considering the basic human lives that are at stake with their decisions. They aren’t keeping conscious that the entire nation is dependent on them doing the right thing for the goodness of the whole. And it doesn’t seem to occur to them that they were elected by the common man and woman. Perhaps that is the problem right there.

Maybe, we the people, need to think about it in a different way. Maybe we didn’t elect these people after all. Maybe the lobbyist elected them with all the money that they gave then to pay for ads and for false advertising. Perhaps we need to rethink just how elected officials are able to pay for all the ads, able to run huge campaigns and spend more money that the common person would make in a life time. Actually, when you think about the millions of dollars that are spent in ‘getting elected’ we could actually pay for health care for every man, woman and child in the nation.

Why are our priorities so wrong, so against the American people. What in the world is the problem that we, the people, can’t see the way in which we operate as a nation is just a no win situation.

The two parties pit us against one another, like two football teams in a super bowl game. The only difference is that when the football game is over, the people go home and their lives aren’t affected very much. With the two political parties, it never stops. The judging, the name calling, the lies, the disrespect is that of teenage squabbling. It just amazes me.

The media hires folks that scream and yell at us and pit us against each other. They make the division wider, and more dangerous. It is a divide and conquer tactic. Get us so confused, fearful and fighting amongst ourselves, that we won’t pay attention to what is really going on.

We elect these people, they aren’t statesmen and stateswomen, they aren’t any wiser and brighter than us, matter of fact, most are extremely immature, egotistical, narcissistic and down right dumb. But we elect them, and we assume that they have all the answers - which of course, they don’t.

Congress needs to start having a love affair with the American people as a whole.

Two Realities and Cross Purposes

- Prissy Hamilton

The two realities are fairly stark now and most of us can see or sense them clearly. It reminds me of the Master Card symbol with the two circles that are almost separate, but still have a little overlapping. It is easy to feel the energy of each one. Even though we have called the one ‘home’ for years, it now feels foreign and not very pleasant. The other one feels more normal and ‘homey’ and certainly more congenial. It feels an easier space to dwell in.

One can really witness it in the political arena. One side is spewing hate, fear and negatives and ridiculing the other side, while the other side is asking for cooperation, help and ideas. It is so easy to see the difference. It is easy to see the fear gone rampant. It is like a foot ball game - only it is dealing with our nation and our world which makes it very uncool. Two sides distinctly.

Greed, now, is starting to become a ‘no-no’ and is beginning to be looked down upon. Much like Marie Antoinette wondering why the masses, who were starving, couldn’t eat cake. It is becoming very obvious. The verbal abuses that are being aired by some of the media reminds us of high school cliques that bullied and bad mouthed other kids, who didn’t deserve it at all. It happens when folks don’t feel they make a difference in this world and have to belittle others to feel good about themselves. Does it work? No, of course it doesn’t. At least not any longer. It used to be that the majority of us would bow to the bullying - we aren’t now. Another indication that the ‘old ways don’t grow corn any longer’.

It has always been astounding to me that most people get their information from outside sources. The news, the guru, the guide, the church, the whatever - pick one, there are thousands. Few get their council from inside themselves - fewer even know how. So they bow down to different ‘gods’ and then they repeat it as if it is universal truth.

After all, that is why advertisements work. If you buy this pair of socks, it will make you have healthy feet. If you eat this food you will be healthy, or eat this food and it will kill you, or take this pill and you’ll feel better. And then there is the side that puts fear in to the system.
Obama is going to take your guns away and leave you helpless and hopeless, Liberals are ruining the country, the Muslims are going to take over - quick let’s run to the mountains, take all of our guns and hide out. The liberals are going to take over and give every thing away and we’ll be stuck with the bill. It is crazy - crazy and a real indication that people are simply blind followers.

It is also an indication that the masses aren’t in reality - either reality. they are in some kind of ‘me wants’ reality. They want that new car, and they could care less about the environment, they could care less how many people died for them to get the fuel for it. They aren’t thinking about the earth we live on, the animals and plants that live on it with us that help support life on this mud ball hurling through space at an amazing speed. They are child like in their ‘wants’. I want it now, I don’t care about the cost, the fuel, the workmanship, the whatever, I want what I want now because that makes me feel important, better and useful. False gods abound.

What happened to the adults? What has happened to maturity? What has happened to critical thinking - thinking things through. What has happened to respect, for self, for nation, for the plants and animals on the earth, for nature, even the moon is subject to our puny silly endeavors.

Isn’t it enough to experience the breath of life, the beautiful earth we live upon, the physical bodies that we embody (even with handicaps and psychological misfortunes). Isn’t it enough to enjoy other people’s thoughts and ideas without having to call them names and shake fists at them?

The problem with engaging in the verbal and mental war fare is that one looses their focus and intent. If the focus is on peace - then why are we putting energy out in our world of war and conflict? If we want appreciation in our world for nature, then why are we putting our energy and efforts in to fighting the folks that are killing off the natural order of things. Isn’t that putting a cross purpose in our heads and hearts?

What if we just started bridging the gaps in a different mindful way. What if we banded together and focused on bridging the fear gap, confronting the issue rather than the person. What if we retained our focus and intent and took the steps toward what we want to see in our world rather than ‘fighting’ over what we don’t want to see in our world? What would that look like? Let’s do some critical thinking and see what we come up with. Let’s have a discussion about it. Let’s make sure we don’t put our energy into something that is at cross purposes to what we really want in this world, in this reality.

Health Care Puzzle

-Prissy Hamilton

Can you explain? I’ve been wrestling lately with people’s attitudes and my not understanding them. I know that I’m not super bright, but I know that I’m not super dumb, either. The truth is, I do more homework and research than most.

Health care. Why don’t people want universal single payer health care? Why don’t they want public option? I’m not asking the big pharma or the insurance companies, we all know why they don’t want it. I’m asking the common public folks. The folks whom it would help immensely. What is wrong with it? What do you/they suggest that would be better?

I don’t get very adequate answers. The folks that are against it are quick to argue about it, quick to call names, quick to judge, quick to spout ridiculous answers that have nothing to do with the question, and everything to do with some kind of fear about it, but they don’t seem to have any real solutions.

This leads me to believe that they don’t care about their fellow man. They don’t give a damn that people are dying due to not having health care. They don’t seem to care. These supporters of the status quo health insurance, don’t seem to care about other people. They like it that they have health insurance and others don’t. They want the cake, they want to eat it, but they don’t want others to have anything to eat. Not cake, not soup, not bread - just let them die. Let them suffer and die without any health care at all. Who cares? They don’t.

What exactly does that say about them? It says that they are narcissistic. It says that they really don’t care about their fellow man. It says that they are immune to the suffering of others. It isn’t in their family (yet) so they aren’t bothered to really think about it. It says they are not concerned for the goodness of the whole, they are only concerned about themselves.

The most confusing thing is, lots of these folks call themselves religious. According to the ‘word’ that they supposedly live by, one is supposed to threat others as they would like to be treated - somehow that completely passes them by. Jesus healed the sick, the least they could do is make sure everyone had health care and give them a chance to be healed.

Lots of other people that are against it have their homes, have their insurance, and have their health. They have never been in a situation where illness struck and they were out in the cold as far as medical treatment goes. They have never seen their child suffer and die, never seen a family member in pain and die due to an illness that they could not be treated for.

The whole thing simply is insane, inhumane and boggles my mind how folks can support the status quo in the Health arena. Something is terribly wrong with these people - terribly wrong.

The Visitor's

- Prissy Hamilton

I learned to leave my body years ago while reading Robert Monroe’s book titled, ‘Journeys out of the Body’. It is my habit to read in bed before I go to sleep at night. I couldn’t fall asleep one night and started thinking about the book and the chapter I had just read. I started playing with the idea of an OBE (out of body experience) and decided that if he (Robert Monroe) could do it, I could too.

I started out questioning any fears that I may have about it. What would I feel if I suddenly found myself across the room, looking back at my body in my bed? No sooner had I thought this, when there I was, across the room, looking back at my body. It was fun, actually, and certainly interesting. Since that time, I’ve done it many times consciously (I have come to believe that we all do it unconsciously, all the time). While climbing the stairs to my bedroom, I would decide where I would go that night, check up on friends or just simply explore and experience wandering the earth. Sometimes I would retain memory of my adventures, and sometimes they would slip into the backdrop of forever, depending on my level of interest.

So, it wasn’t shocking or unusual this particular night to find myself ‘coming back’ to my body from the west corner of my bedroom. What was shocking and provoking was what I saw. They say that we have a cob web like antenna attached to us, a sort of psychic thing that tells us if there is someone close, or tampering with our being. They say, that our initial reaction is one of questioning whether it is friend or foe, our lunch or are we about to become someone else’s lunch. I don’t know what the circumstances were that time, perhaps I sensed something happening that I felt I should be a part of or perhaps I was just bored with the adventure and wanted to return home. What I do know, is what I experienced upon my return.

There, on my side of the bed, were four small entities, standing around my body. I was immediately on alert, and emotionally felt as if I was pouncing into the scene with a strength and clarity that I hardly thought I had in me. What were they doing there, why were they there to begin with? I seemed to have the knowledge of who they were already.

They did not look solid, but then, when one is OB (out of body), things don’t appear solid, but rather veiled in an opaque sort of way. It is as if you can see through things. Almost an x-ray type vision and I can relate it a bit to the night vision type binoculars that are out on the market today. Things do not appear solid, and indeed, they really aren’t, as while OB one can go through walls, float over/under oceans, trees, or go almost any where unencumbered. One can see, hear, feel, communicate, and pretty much don’t feel any different than being in the body except for the freedom of being and moving. I don’t pretend to know the how's and all the scientific dynamics of it, I can only relate to you what the feelings are and what the experience was that night.

I wasn’t shocked at all, a fact that amazes me a bit, but I obviously shocked my visitors. They didn’t expect me to return when I did. Caught in the cookie jar was the feeling. They began, what seemed like, frantically ‘packing things up’ to make a swift departure. It occurred to me not to go back into my body. I somehow knew that I would not be able to function with the clarity of mind that I wanted. I instinctively understood that if I returned to my body, I would fall asleep, be sluggish and succumb to the ‘screw it, I’m tired’ sort of thing, and by the time morning dawned, I would have no trace of memory about it. So, I was on full alert, and I remember realizing how incredible it was that I had no fear about this situation.

All my life I have had the unrelenting drive to ‘know’. And knowing to me, is finding out the truth of things within myself. During the journey, I have peeled away layers of concepts, feeling, and illusions and in order to stay on track with it, I have come to learn how to keep myself ‘conscious’ with experiences, so I can sort them out later. This experience was no different, I wanted to stay in full consciousness because I wanted all the information about it I could acquire.

They were about four feet tall, busy with their work and not paying much attention to anything other that my body that lay on the bed. I whizzed into the room and started questioning and the questions seemed to be answered by the entity closest to my head. Who the hell are you and what are you doing?

The answers came in something I will call a ‘rote’. Like, if I could somehow push an understanding out toward you and you would pick it up and instantly know it in some strange way. So, not only do you get the words, you get the understanding, knowledge and feelings attached to the words. Rather like a whole package of understanding or knowingness. Not that it would interfere with your own understanding, but rather, give you the ‘inside scoop’ of someone else’s understanding of a situation.

It is impossible to put quotes to it, but here are the answers in the form of the knowingness derived from the ‘rote’ passed to my understanding. They come from a planet that was once called Molena (not sure that is exact, but close). This home planet was somehow destroyed, by their own hands, their own species, their own manifestations. It was explained to me that Haley’s comet is the largest piece remaining of their once whole planet. It is now on it’s own course around the stratum and is uninhabitable. From their point of view, we appeared to be taking the same course. It looked to them like we were about to destroy ourselves and our planet and although they could not prevent us from doing that, they decided to take pieces (DNA?) of us (everything on earth) to keep safe in another space so we wouldn’t be ‘lost’ like they feel they were. They apparently know a death, but their life span is much longer than ours - something like three or four times longer. As this was being related to me, they were gathering up and within seconds, it seemed, were on their way out via the window on the east side of the bedroom. I remember seeing a light outside, but was too caught up in my own emotions to investigate.

I, by this time, was in a frothed rage. I found myself pacing the bedroom back and forth shouting, cussing and ranting. I have no idea how long this went on, but at some point I stopped dead still. As I stood there, I suddenly wondered why, my husband and dog had not come to my rescue. I looked over at the bed. They were asleep. My husband on his right side, turned away from my body and Shanti curled up at the foot of the bed. (My body was curled up behind my mates in a ‘spooning’ position.) Both appeared unaware of my ranting. Then, I realized that I was still out of my body, and my vocal ragings were done on an ESP type level. In other words, I was not using my vocal cords (they were still in my body, of course). I calmed down, I floated (for lack of better word) over to my body and slipped into it. I suddenly felt a heaviness, a weight, both emotionally and physically, but before I allowed it to take me over, I agreed to myself that I would not forget what had taken place. I fell into a deep comfortable, heavy sleep.

Upon awaking the next morning, I didn’t think too much about it. I had to dress for work and do the normal work day routine. The day progressed normally and the evening, after dinner, found me sitting on the couch watching a favorite TV program. I had my arm resting on the arm of the couch and my hand behind my head. I started playing with my hair and discovered two scabs in the hairline just above my neck. I scratched at them briefly taking a minimum amount of notice. It wasn’t until the next night that, sitting on the couch, doing the same thing, it triggered something inside me. I suddenly got off the couch and went upstairs without saying anything to anyone. I went to my side of the bed and started examining the pillows. There, on the neck roll pillow I slept on, were two dried spots of blood. As I saw them, as I stood there, the memory came flooding back. It was so strong that I ended up sitting on the bed for a long while, allowing the entire experience to come back. It was one of those moments, when memory returns, you just allow it, accept it and then start a contemplation about it.

Several days went by as I silently questioned myself about the experience. I figured out why my bed partners had remained asleep, and undisturbed: my body had not moved in the bed with them, only the essence of me had moved. It was the essence of me that had screamed and cursed, not my physical vocal cords, so unless they were OB as well, they wouldn’t know or at least my sense told me that they wouldn’t know.

Through the years, and it has been many, I haven’t talked about it very much to other people except for my partner. I had extreme anger surrounding the situation, and we all know that where there is anger, behind the anger is fear. Just approaching the subject would make the hair on the back of my neck prickle. Often people would say that they wanted to meet an alien, why didn’t they just come down and visit and I would always respond by smiling and making some kind of statement that I bet it wouldn’t be so grand, eye ball to eye ball. The several people I did tell, heard it from a cussing, outraged person. And my term for them became ‘the assholes’!

Not long ago, I read a book, called Flying Saucers 101, written by Harold Burt. It was the first thing I have read about the subject since that night. It brought up the memory again (not that I had forgotten), and the feelings have indeed muted a bit with the passing of time. I still struggle with fear about it, but I need to face that. Hopefully this little piece with eliminate my embarrassment of it since I’m about to put it on the World Wide Web, for goodness sake! They obviously didn’t do any damage - didn’t change my sojourn - there is much more to learn, which I will be able to do, when the fear and judgments are dealt with. I also realize that I have to practice what I preach and that judging them ‘assholes’ is not the way to go with so little information.

But I’m here to tell you - it’s real, can’t say much more than that, don’t have the answers, don’t even know all the questions - but make no mistake, we are not alone in this universe.

The Changing Times

-Prissy Hamilton

Things are different, have you noticed? It feels different, looks different, reactions are different, we are seeing things with different eyes, with a different knowingness. Yes, it is subtle, it may just be a whisper, or feel like a slight unsteadiness, but it is there for anyone who tunes in to ‘life’ and accepts it and even for those that don’t.

I sit here on the porch of the old adobe house, side by side with Pewter, the cat, while the Hummingbirds drink from the feeder directly above her. She doesn’t seem to notice at all. The horses are moving around in the pasture, the fluffy clouds are gathering above for the afternoon sprinkle - all appears the same, status quo, but there is a difference. Feels different, not real familiar, but vaguely familiar, like I’ve been here before, but yet I know that I haven’t for every day is different.

It is perhaps easier for me to see and feel it than most, as I have few distractions living where I do. There is no traffic on the road, no voices to compete with, no noise except for bees and birds and natural things going about their daily routines.

The earth is in the midst of adjusting, as the rest of the inhabitants of this planet. The vibrations are very different. People are experiencing unfamiliar physical, emotional, and mental feelings. It isn’t quite like a brand new world, but there is a shadow of that sense to it.

All my life, I’ve tuned into nature and the energy around me. Approaching my older years, it is innate for me to do that as I’ve done it for so long. Nature, feels to me, like it is finding its new balance.

In the Zen mode of thinking, it is the Yin and the Yang, the in-breath and the out-breath. We’ve crossed the cross over point with each heading in different directions. The two realities are, as my friend says, unzipping. It is an odd experience. One minute you are in old familiar territory, and the next minute, it is slightly, but obviously different.

Out-breath is expanding and growing and creating with passion and participation, using more discernment in everyday decisions, experiences and thought processes.

In-breath is imploding, spiraling inward, contracting and somewhat solitary and most certainly much is fear based. In-breath is not so discerning, not so encompassing or aware of the whole, but concentrated on the self.

Two different distinct realities. You can see it in the political arena, the private, personal arena and even in world attitudes and events. There is a definite change taking place. The energies are different, very different.

There is, which is fear based, a tendency to hang on to the old ways of living, participating, and doing business in general. Trying to participate with ‘business as usual’ isn’t working any longer. It is no surprise that it makes for frustration, fear, confusion and a great deal of personal chaos. People are trying to figure out why, when their way of dealing and participating in the world worked before, it isn’t working now.

Those that are allowing the change with-in and with-out have an ungrounded feeling, but don’t seem to mind. They may feel a bit ‘wobbly’ at times, but they are going with the flow. Perhaps they sense that support is there, but in a different way, a different form, a different energy. It takes a re-tuning, a re-adjusting and a sensitive look at things around you. A re-evaluation about what your life is about, how you look at things, what you are passionate about and how you want to create, this time with passion.

It is known in the scientific world that the magnetic field has changed, the weather has changed, the earth itself has and is changing as well.

It is important and helpful that during this time of flux, of expansion, of growth, and of change, that we try to remain balanced with-in ourselves, our lives and our relationship to the world around us.

If and when we do get off balance, we want to avoid falling into the old habit of blaming others, of trying to pin that unbalance on others or make up excuses. Those old excuses no longer work.

It is helpful to ask questions of ourselves and others. ‘Is this feeling mine, or is it coming from outside of myself’? ‘What is the fear behind this feeling?’ and ‘How can I look at this differently?’ Being really accepting -without judgment - and non assuming of the answers that we get, we can honestly see what is really happening with us. And it will keep us from ‘projecting’ our feelings, our emotions, our assumptions on other people or circumstances. It will help pull us back into a reality based balance.

Then, we can ask questions of others. We must learn to ask these questions of others in a not interrogating way. If we come from a non-judging unassuming way, if we come from a genuine curiosity with our questions, we will get more truthful and honest answers and that will help us truly understand other’s actions, reactions and feelings toward us and other circumstances. If we ask in an interrogating way, then we throw people into more chaos, self doubt and it pushes them into a defensive stance.

It is all about balance. Accepting that we don’t know the exact truths, that we get to learn, that we can introspect and come up with our own answers and therefore not rely on outside sources. If we stop judging, stop projecting our beliefs and feelings onto others, we will learn more. If we ask more questions and openly listen to the answers, we become more rounded in our attitudes. If we stop pushing others to be like us, if we accept them as they are, knowing that their journey is different than ours, but no less important, then we can have a more natural interaction with all around us. Our strengths are in our differences, not in our same-ness.

Balance is knowing that we aren’t knowledgeable about everything, but we get to learn. and in that learning is an adventure, and if we do it with passion - it is almost magical and brings with it a lot of joy. Joy, when is the last time you experienced real joy?

The Wee Folk

Deep in the woods and under the leaf, behind the rock, or in the hollow of the tree, live the Wee Folk. Small little opaque creatures called the Divas, Wee Folk, Faeries, Sprites, and Elves. They are quick of mind and swift of heart, and they find it very easy to elude and exclude their human co-inhabitants. They come in all variety, they speak in all tongues, they dance to all music, they protect, care and guide. They shimmer, twinkle, sparkle and dance. They are shy little creatures, but are very real, indeed.

They have been the source of many adventures of authors and writers like William Shakespeare (A Midsummer Night’s Dream), they have been painted and drawn by artist like, John Anster Fitzgerald (The Chase of the White Mice), William Blake and Edward Robert Hughes. They have been the source of complete works and research (The Finhorn Community), and have been depicted in childrens stories and films such as Peter Pan, The Borrowers, Labyrinth, and, Fairy Tale, A True Story.

Although called by different names, they are found in just about every country and culture in the world through fables, tales and art of all kinds. The Jews call them Shedim, Egyptians call them Afries, Afticans call them Yowahoos and the Persians call them Devs.

They exist in the ethereal world which penetrates our own from time to time. Dorothy Maclean, of the Finhorn Community, defined them as ‘archetypal formative forces of light or energy that underlie all forms in nature - plants, trees, rivers, animals, etc. They have also been described as ‘elementals’.

Our imaginations, sensory perceptions, and willingness to see and learn are most active and unencumbered during childhood, however, there are moments, afternoons, and times of emotional awareness when all of us have glimpses of anomalistic realities. It is during these times, that preternatural knowledge and adventures are viewed and accepted (at least, for the moment), with wonder, by even the most armored individual.

These moments present themselves while journeying down a path during a solitary Sunday afternoon stroll, a silent meander in the woods at twilight on a summer evening or, possibly, a moment on cross country skis when the rest of the group has left you to re-tie your shoe laces. It is a sharp softness, a gentle feeling of trespassing on beloved land, it is the sudden awareness that someone or something might be privy to private moments, that cozy feeling of not really being alone or a glow within that says you quite possibly could be psychic after all. It is that sudden tinge of awareness when you look up from the garden swing, expecting to see some one there and are a bit shocked to find the scene as you left it before you closed your eyes. It borders on a spiritual feeling, a reverent kind of semi knowingness that saturates your being, if only for a moment. That second, while planting the spring bulbs in the garden that you sensed (or did you actually see) a sparkle or twinkle slip by, almost undetected.

These moments, and there are many of them, come when you are not looking for them, not seeking them, not paying much attention and usually concentrating on something else. Tis when the Divas are about, tis their domain, their home, their beloved space.

They live in all medium, from large city parking lots to deep wooded forest, small gardens, and in grand or primitive park lands. They are about all the time, everywhere. They are the essence of nature herself. The keepers, protectors, and ego, so to speak, of flora and fauna. They are delightful creatures, who are responsible for knowledge, manifested as instincts.

Few of us take the time to squelch the ego’s demand that there is nothing there, most of us buy into the assumption that our imagination is on the prowl producing fanciful illusions. But throughout history, there have been many that ‘go with the experience’ and come away with ideas and knowledge that somehow make sense and make a difference in the quality of life.

When these experiences are related, they seem far fetched, dreamlike, and even preposterous, but we deal daily with unseen things. There are a multitude of unseen things that we ‘think’ we see. The wind, for instance, we have never seen. We see what it does, we feel it, we sense it, but we never do actually see it. Same as love, we feel it, we experience it, but we never actually see it. The reason is because they are energies - an electricity, so to speak. They are powerful energies that affect our life, affect how we feel and what we do with our day, our afternoon, even things as mundane as our laundry. Radios are merely amplifiers to what is in the atmosphere. We can’t see radio waves, but we can listen to them because they are ’amplified’. So, how can one argue that unseen things don’t count, don’t exist, don’t affect us? If everyone bought into that way of thinking, germs wouldn’t have been looked for and found, microwaves would not be in our kitchens, and so forth.

We don’t think about these ‘mundane’ unseens because we have normalized their existence. We take electricity, microwaves, radio waves, cyberwaves, the wind, emotions, and microscopic things for granted these days. Yet, with each new ‘discovery’ we often deem the ‘inventor or founder’ crazy, eccentric, neurotic. What we often fail to realize is that discoveries are merely ‘findings’ - it is the way (method) we view them that is new - but the actual thing that we are ‘finding’ has been there all along - right under our noses - in our daily lives for eons.

And so, with this in mind, I'll bring a few stories from the Wee Folk, a kind and gentle group who have a great deal of power on our earth. If you have trouble with the source, then only listen to the message, the knowledge. Pick through the parts that ‘ring truth’ for you and leave the rest alone, without judgment, for rather like a book given to us at Christmas one year, makes no sense at the time, but three years later, you find yourself reading and appreciating it, saying that it is just ‘what the doctor ordered’. You never know when you might want some information, in order to piece something together, in your heart and in your mind.

- Prissy Hamilton

A Morning Muse on Polarities

I’ve been hearing a lot about polarities and dualities: Black - White, Good - Evil, Dark - Light, Good - Bad, God - Devil, Physical - Spiritual, Rich - Poor, and so on. You can read about them and hear about them any where from the grocery store to Wall Street to churches all around the globe. They are in every nitch and corner of our thought process and our global societies are steeped with them.

Dualities and Polarities are really antagonistic in principle. They present a ‘Them and Us’ scenario. And there is something about that mode of thinking, of living, that is disturbing to all of us - no matter which ‘side’ you are on. That mind set separates, and slices apart humanity. It causes disrespect, resentment, hate, rage, fear and breeds hopelessness. It nourishes greed, promotes segregation and increases the possibilities of war and destruction, both on a personal level and on a global level. It does not offer any semblance of healing. Rather, it presents a ‘no win’ situation. It allows us a way to judge, to exclude, and to negate. It separates, pushes apart, and invites us to become either victim or elite.

What if we looked at it differently? What if we gave up that linear thinking and mind set and saw it differently? What if we stopped judging for a minute and looked at it in truth with honesty and impeccability. What if we allowed ourselves to see a broader view? What if we viewed it as a circle instead of a polarity, what would happen? Would it not cut through a lot of conflict and chaos internally? Wouldn’t it remove the reasons for war and greed. Wouldn’t it promote respect and invite a knowledge and growth both mentally and spiritually to everyone? Wouldn’t it bring an evenness to every one? And why would we not want that? Would it be an excuse for us to feel insecure, to feel less than or more than?

It seems to me that Polarities and Dualities stem from judgments. We judge ourselves, we judge others. We judge everything from skin color, to religious beliefs, to the clothes people wear, to the way they live their lives, the way they look, the way they talk and how much money they have. We judge everything, everything. And we judge ourselves in the most merciless ways possible. We’re bad, we’re evil, we’re dumb, we’re ugly, we’re poor, we’re this, we’re that. Again, it is a ‘them and us’ dance. The question is: Why do we do that? To make ourselves worthy, to make ourselves feel better about ourselves or to prove to ourselves we aren't worthy?

What if we looked at it completely differently? What if we saw ‘God’ in everyone? What if we saw God in ourselves? What if we stopped making God in OUR image and allow ourselves to contemplate and investigate what it means to be made in God's image? What if we saw, not a linear way of thinking, but an all encompassing embracement of human kind? How would that feel and what would that look like?

Something to think about in this new paradigm that we are heading in to, don't you think?

Prissy Hamilton

My Friend Pie

Story of a child with cancer as told by her teddy bear

My friend Pie was real sick. She had not felt very well for several months and she seemed not to be getting any better. I was worried about her because she slept a lot and didn’t seem very happy or excited about anything. I snuggled in bed and on the couch with her most of the time. So, I was excited the day I found out we were going to go for a long car ride to the big city. It was in the car that I learned we were going to a group of special doctors in a big hospital to ask them to help my friend Pie.

Pie and I curled up on the back seat on the way. I could tell that she was worried and scared. It’s scary to know that there is something wrong with the way your body works and it is also scary to go to big hospitals where strangers will ask you questions and poke and push at your body. Even though you know they are trying to help you.

My Pie was very brave and with her parents help she ask lots of questions. Her parents ask questions, too. I didn’t know what questions to ask so I listened with all my might. I just wanted my Pie to feel better so we could have fun again.

We found out that my friend Pie had cancer. We also found out that treatment for this disease would be long and that she would not feel very good during the treatment. There were actually two different types of treatment. The first one and the longest one would be something called Chemo Therapy. It’s where different chemicals are put into the body and these chemicals kill the cancer. The chemicals also make you sick to your stomach most of the time and very tired. They sometimes cause your hair to fall out, too. The second treatment, after the Chemo Therapy is finished, is called radiation. It’s done with a special x-ray type machine. It doesn’t hurt but makes you feel like you have a bad sun burn and very tired.

It was a big scary day. When our whole family got in the car to go back home, we were all very quiet. I could tell everyone was sad and worried, especially Pie, who hugged me ever so tightly for a long time.

When we got back home, we all talked and made some agreements. Pie’s mom said it was a time to be really honest with each other. Pie agreed to talk about her needs and wants. Her step father agreed to be there and help with whatever was needed. I agreed to be by her side all the time if she wanted me to. We all agreed that we could get through this together and we would look forward to the little fun things that happen on a daily basis.

Every three weeks we would make the two hour trip down to the big city to the big hospital where my Pie would have her treatments. I would sit by her and send her all my love. It was not fun and sometimes she would feel sicker, but we all kept our agreements about enjoying the little things. The nurses would joke with us and laugh. They often hugged us all and helped to make unpleasant feelings a little more bearable. The doctors were very nice, too. They told us when something would hurt and they would give Pie different medication for tummy aches when one didn’t work.

It seemed like a very long time. One night when we returned home, Pie noticed that her beautiful hair was falling out. She began to cry. I felt very badly for her. Then her mom explained to us that her hair falling out was a sign that the treatment was working and that even though it was scary, that it would grow back and be all right.

Pie cried and cried and held me tight all night long. The next few weeks brought lots of hats and scarfs to our house from many friends. Pie’s step father even shaved his head - we all laughed and talked and after a while we realized that hair was just stuff that grows off the top of your head and being without it for a while was not that big of a deal after all.

We continued going down to the big city to the big special hospital for months. Finally we started the count down of how many treatments were left to go. Three, then two and then one. I will never forget the last one.

We all stood out in the parking lot and looked around. Pie’s step father said, “remember how scary it was the first time we came here and how it all seemed too much to handle? It certainly feels different now, doesn’t it?” We all agreed and Pie held me just as tight as she did that very first day.

My friend Pie is doing fine now. Her hair is very short, but it is growing back. Each day she feels a little better and each day we enjoy the little things that are fun. Things like the way her dog Tippy cocks his head when we talk to him, the smiles our friends flash at us when they see us, the hugs that say they are proud of us.

Pie once told me that her many friends, her parents and I had made a big difference in going through all the treatments. She said she loved them all and that they had made a real scary part of her life manageable. She said she was glad they were there. I am real happy I was there with her, too. And I am very proud of my friend Pie.

© Prissy Hamilton 1996

A Post Election Muse

Apparently, we, the people of the United States (those that voted, anyway), have decided that we want change. This allows us to create a change in the relationship that we have with each other, with our community, with the world and, most importantly with our own government. Our country has a document and it starts with, ‘We, the people...’ It is a serious document and deserves high regard and respect. It is a contract between the people of this country and the governing powers, that we, the people, elect.

Our government, our president, no matter who he/she/they are, are our public servants. They are not our big daddy, our parents or our care givers. They are elected officials, paid for by the citizens of this country to head up our country, to problem solve for us for the goodness of the whole, not to rule us.

Unfortunately, there are people in this country who still believe that things are done ‘for them,’ or ‘to them.’ What that does is give the personal power away and allows someone else (who is full of greed) to make decisions for them, creating even more national greed. In these times of change, that will no longer work to the personal best interest. We must be mature enough, to help lead ourselves, help create our new reality, created a sense of community, create a sense of caring for each other. It is the society at large that has to fix things, not our elected officials. They cannot and should not do it on their own. It is our future, our lives, and we must participate in it in every way -- it is no longer a spectator sport but requires getting involved. We really don't have the right, any longer, to benefit from our society unless we are participating in it. If we don't participate, then we are ruled.

As Barack Obama said the night of November 4th, 2008, It is going to be a steep climb and isn't going to be easy, but it can be done - Yes, we can. Yes, we will! If we participate and co-create with it and not sit on our butts and expect it to be done for us..

The citizens in this country that are still thinking about themselves, that do not have a sense of nation, of community better get on board with the rest of us. It will take all of us together to bring about this change. We, each, have to personally participate, join forces with each other and communicate with each other and our elected officials. We have to be realistic, as well. We have to do some critical thinking, think things through, ban together and create a community, a society, and a country that we can all live and create in that is for all of us, not a select few.

Times of change, such as this, offers incredible opportunity. New businesses can be created, from the clothes industry, the auto industry, the daily child care, solar, small and large opportunities abound. We know what we need as a society, as a nation, as a neighbor. There is an enormous chance to really make a difference, to really promote our country, to really help our peoples. We can produce things, make things, write things, sew things, invent new things, grow things, build things, plan things, on and on. We each have a place, but we each have to participate with passion to make it happen, to create what we want that will benefit all of us. Our strengths are in our differences, together we can create wondrous things, together we can bring new energy, new insights, new creations, new ideas and thoughts to the table. Together we can make history, just like we did on November 4th of this year. It can be done with community organizing, with community participation - it has been done.

The old ways do not grow corn any longer. We all must get involved, stand up and take our place as a hard working participant in our new and very hopeful government. If we don't, then we will end up with a government that looks very much like the one that was in power the past 8 years or longer. Do we want that? It is entirely up to us.

Prissy Hamilton

Chaco Canyon, A Rememberence, Part !

Years ago there was a Harmonic Conversion ceremony at Chaco Canyon and I gave a friend a bundle to put in the sacred fire, other than that, I’ve never had much interest in the place. Debbie, on the other hand, has been obsessed. For as long as she can remember, she has wanted to go there. So it didn’t surprise me when she came to visit that she requested to visit Chaco Canyon. We decided to make a weekend of it and I would take her to one of my favorite places in the area, Mesa Verde.

We left my northern New Mexico ranchette and drove northwest over the mountains. It was a beautiful drive, foliage in full bloom, crisp mountain air and a bright deep blue sky. The time and miles flew by and before we knew it, we were making the long climb up the two lane road to the top of the Mesa where Mesa Verde National Park is located.

I had been to Mesa Verde twice before. Each time gave me a deep feeling of comfort. I felt a real connection, despite my fear of heights, and I was happy to be back for a third time. It is the home of some of the most exquisite cliff dwellings in the world and there are hundreds of them. Most have not been excavated and are sealed until further advances in technology.

After a good nights sleep in the lodge, we rose early and headed out to the cliff dwellings. We spent the morning climbing around ruins, going down rope ladders which hung off sheer cliffs and crawling into cave like dwellings built into the high sandstone cliff walls.

Finally, we got to the one that was special to me, Palace House. We climbed down the long series of ladders, then on a small path around the cliff’s edge, between huge boulders and around a corner. Palace House was in view.

Debbie and I were both silent, taking in the place, all sensors on alert. Lucky for us there weren’t a lot of people there. We each walked around and inspected, experienced, and soaked in the energy of the place. I climbed down a ladder into a Kiva, Debbie came after me. I sat down on the floor and so did she. We sat there for some time, not saying a word, some noisy children came and went. We remained.

After a while, Debbie whispered, “know what this is?”

“Yes”, I answered, “and it was not used for what they think it was used for!”

“Sure wasn’t! I’ve been here many times, how ‘bout you?”

“Yes”, I agreed, “spent a wonderful life here, but I don’t think I died here.” More moments in silence and then we climbed up the ladder and out into the bright daylight.

The afternoon was spent sight seeing, climbing through ruins. Debbie talked me into a longer rope ladder climb down the cliff to a dwelling that I had not visited before. It was fascinating, incredible, but none had the same emotional impact on me as Palace House.

Next day, while driving to Chaco Canyon, we spoke of our thoughts, feelings and experience at Mesa Verde. She read a bit out of some of the brochures and we discovered that parts of the history just didn’t feel right to us. Both places, Mesa Verde and Chaco Canyon as well as other sites close by, archaeologist tell us, are places built and lived in by the Anassazi (Navajo word meaning ‘the ancient ones’). Despite decades of excavation very little is actually known about these people. They were around from 1100 to 1300 A.D. when they suddenly left, leaving no indication as to why, how or even where they went.

We discussed our feelings and musings in depth and came up with the notion that we had both lived in Palace House, Mesa Verde before. We were very happy there, at peace, but neither of us felt that we spent an entire life time there. In fact, Debbie felt she left for some unknown reason while still quite young. I felt I had left, too, but not until I was older. We left it at that as I turned the car onto the road marked Chaco Canyon, 36 miles.

The rutted dirt road to Chaco is a long dusty one. A wash board the likes of which I have never seen before or since. I was quickly convinced every screw in the engine of my car was going to be loosened. We each complained about the road, and the scenery, which was high desert and fairly hostel appearing.

We came around a bend and the road dropped sharply as we entered the canyon itself and it was vast. It was like going into a giant hole in the earth - huge. We remarked about it because the canyon was within the earth, as opposed to being nestled between peaks jutting out of the earth. Felt weird, look weird. Our first impression was one of cold aggression.

It was almost dusk. We passed the big ruin - Pueblo Bonita. “Stop here!”, Debbie ordered. I pulled over and into the parking lot. It was a huge structure, what appeared to be 5 or 6 stories to the original place, made of rock bricks. It was mammoth, almost overwhelming.

We walked up the winding path to the front of it and proceeded to go up the few stone stairs and in through a door. Then there was another doorway and Debbie, ahead of me, stopped just on the other side of it, cold in her tracks. I was slowly following behind her.

“I feel like I was just kicked in the chest by a horse,” she whispered, holding her chest. She continued walking slowly and so did I. I peeked through windows and was trying to pick up the energy of the place when I turned a corner and found her sitting on an out cropping of stone bricks. She looked gray and was visibly shaken.

“Are you all right?”

“Don’t know, I have felt heavier and heavier since I walked through that second doorway, my heart is pounding. I feel like my entire metabolic system is on alert.”

“Do you think we should go for help?” I asked, getting a bit concerned about her color.

“No”, she said, “it is just a reaction to this place. I’ve always wanted to come here ever since I can remember and I’m not going to leave that easily. There is obviously something I need to experience or learn. I can tell you, though, I have definitely been here before?”

I took my cue to leave her alone and let her experience what ever it was. I slowly kept walking, trying to figure out what I was feeling and trying to zero in on the general energy of the place.

It felt unpleasant to me, but not nearly so strong a feeling as what Debbie was experiencing. I knew that I didn’t much care for the site. It was 180 degrees different than what I felt at Mesa Verde where I had a very strong pleasant connection. This place seemed unhappy and morose. Felt to me like the people that built and lived here were not very happy.

I slowly walked around for the most part of an hour feeling more depressed with each step. I also got a sense that things here were forced to happen fast . I ended up outside looking at the structure from what seemed like a platform with kivas dug into it. Perhaps it was some kind of community square originally.

Debbie emerged from one of the many little doorways looking more gray and while walking toward her, I could tell she was teary eyed and shaking. She held two small stones in her hand.

“what's going on?” I asked quietly.

“I’ll tell you in the car. I’m having sensory overload and I need to leave.”

We walked to the car fairly quickly, cranked it up and drove toward the end of the park where the signs said there was a camp ground.

The camp ground was situated behind a large basalt wall or butte. It blocked any view or hint of the ruins. As soon as we got on the other side of that butte, she started blurting it all out.

“I can’t begin to describe the assault on my senses when I stepped through that second doorway. The heavy feeling in my chest made breathing difficult, my heart was racing and pounding to the point of pain and my physical body was getting heavier with each step I took. You know that I don’t cry easily, but I had no control over the tears. Mentally I was getting a video picture of so many images, but feeling the emotional impact at the same time. I guess you call it a full blown memory.”

“ Anyway”, she continued and I could hear the unwinding in her voice, “I helped build this place. I know it. I shaped the stones, I carried them. I placed them and I worked my tail off. See these stones?, she opened her hand revealing the two little stones she had been clutching. I took them because I put them there. I have a right to take them away. I was a prisoner here, a slave, I hated it. I had no personal power and it was a killer existence, not just for me, but for all that were here and there were many thousand. You were older than me and you didn’t have to work as hard, but you weren’t happy either.”

“I saw exactly how life was, I realized that the feelings I had at Mesa Verde yesterday were also flashbacks to my real life there, but the images and feelings were just the opposite of what I feel here. Life at Mesa Verde was hard, but peaceful and there was a general happiness for being there and living in the cliffs. We were brought here as young women,. We lost our connection to our families to some degree because we had been given to elder men in our community. I was given to a very old man that had little kindness in his heart for me and upheld more of an obligation to tradition than his heart’s choosing. There was also an urgency to the entire community. It was not talked about, but we all felt it. We had to hurry up, time was of the essence, but we didn’t know why.”

It was summer, but in the desert the temperature can drop 20 to 30 degrees as soon as the sun goes down. I backed the car in, set up a little stove, a blanket to sit on and we ate our dinner. It took her a full hour to regain the color in her face and to stop shaking.

Fate would have it that we were camped next to a group of people that were on a bit of a history tour. They built a big fire, and one of them, we termed the story teller, started giving a history lesson about the canyon, what they know about it, what has been discovered and so on.

We learned that historians think that Chaco Canyon was an important Anasassi cultural center from about 900 through 1130 A.D. About 30 ancient masonry buildings, containing hundreds of rooms each, attest to it’s importance. Some structures are thought to have served as astronomical observatories or calendars. Archaeologists discovered jewelry made from Mexican and Californian materials in ancient trash heaps. There are large well constructed roadways which lead from sites 50 miles away to the center of Chaco Canyon. As is the case with Mesa Verde, they do not know what happened to these people, what became of them, or even how they buried their dead. Both places are shrouded in mystery.

We eased dropped into the history lesson until about 10 pm and decided to turn into our sleeping bags as it was getting cold.

I couldn’t sleep. My mind keep going back over what I had felt and picked up of the energy of Pueblo Bonita. I didn’t have the same reaction that Debbie had, but I didn’t like the place. I felt it a very unhappy place and though I didn’t have a physical reaction per say, I realized that I must be disturbed otherwise sleep would have come easier as I was exhausted. Two a.m. found me unwrapping a tootsie roll.

“You can’t sleep either?”

“No, I can’t. What’s going on with you, you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine, now, but I surely in all the world didn’t expect to have a reaction like I that. Did you pick up anything?”

I explained that I did pick up a few things. I lived there, as well, but I didn’t feel like I had as difficult time with life. I was just acutely aware that I didn’t like the place at all. The sadness was disturbing, It felt like a bloody old wound, remembered.

“Maybe we’ll get more insight tomorrow when we see the rest of the place,” I pondered out loud.

“I hope so,” she said, “ I sure don’t like what I went through today.”

As usual, when camping out the sun gets you up early. No exception this time. Besides, Debbie could barely contain herself. She explained that she wanted to see and feel what ever it was she needed to see and feel and then get out of the place.

“I want to go back to Pueblo Bonita”, she announced.

:Surely you are kidding, after what you went through? Are you out of your mind?” I asked in complete disbelief.

“I’ve two pictures left in my camera, and I want to take them there. I have to, I have to see this through. There is a reason why I always wanted to come here, and I may never get another chance to come back. I have to figure out what all this is about., it is somehow very important.”

I wanted to tell her that it was for sure she would never get another chance with me for there was no way I was ever coming back. Hang up that thought right now. But I said not a word.

We quickly packed the car and left the camp site. I continued to grumble about going back to Pueblo Bonita, but Debbie kept reassuring me that she went through the brunt of it the day before and felt it would not be so physical this time. I argued and with only her personal style, she said she had no intention of leaving without seeing this whole thing through. I reluctantly acquiesced.

We stopped by the visitor center and grabbed some brochures and quickly viewed some artifacts. She rushed me, wanting to get to the pueblo before the crowd did. I dragged my feet.

Back in the car and driving out of the visitor entrance, I noticed a fork in the road to other sites which seemed to pull at me, but she shouted to turn back toward what I now considered the ‘dreaded’ pueblo. I pulled into a parking place in front of Pueblo Bonito and decided to leave my purse in the car. Without thinking, I slammed the door, Debbie was already out of the car and heading up the path toward the ruin.

“Oh, God,” I stood there in a frozen state.

Debbie turned around and looked a bit annoyed, “What now!”

“I just locked the keys in the car! What in bloody hell are we going to do now?”

“Don’t worry about it, it will be all right.”

“Debbie”, now I was getting annoyed, “we are miles away from any kind of place that would come unlock the car - miles - I don’t want to stay here, what the hell are we going to do - would you just consider the reality of this! I TOLD you this was a bad idea.” I was almost in tears. I just wanted to go home - take a bath, eat something yummy and relax.

“It will be all right, I know this, stop worrying, I am supposed to do this and it will be all right! Just come with me and we’ll figure it out later.”

I relented (not knowing what else to do) and walked after her, thinking about why I had managed to be so numskulled that I would lock the keys in the car. Then, I realized that it was passive aggression on my part. I didn’t want to be there, didn’t want to go back into the place. It was Debbie’s fault, I told her so. “All your fault, you know, I didn’t want to come back, you did and are so pushy about it and in such a hurry that I’m just plain undone.”

She stopped in her tracks and turned toward me. ‘Look,” she said with a plead and sincerity, “I will never get another chance to be here again in these circumstances, I have to go back in and find out what this is about. It is really important to me. We’ll figure out the car thing, I have no intention of spending another night here. I know it will be all right, just trust me on this one, please!”

“Another night here, Oh God, with you having heart palpitations, no way. I’ll kill you first and have to ride out in a squad car. I will not stay here another night. Do you understand me?”

“Oh, just shut up and come on - it will be all right, I’m telling you.”

I followed her into the first archway. She sat down and handed me the camera. “Here, take a picture of me.’ I did what I was told.

I, then, let her go ahead of me and held back a little distance before following. I put out all the sonar that I had within me. She was silent and so was I.

She passed through the second doorway, stopped briefly and then continued. I followed behind about 20 feet. Neither one of us spoke. We meandered through numerous rooms and spaces, still silent. Finally after an hour, we found ourselves out in the open square again.

I was looking down into a Kiva when Debbie walked over to me and said she was ready to go. There was something about the Kivas on this property that deeply disturbed me - unlike the ones at Mesa Verde which put out an inviting peace - these felt like war of some kind. We walked back to the car in silence.

Upon getting to the car, I started checking all the doors. I saw the keys inside sitting there teasing me with their boldness. We saw a couple walking toward another car and I asked them if they had a wire coat hanger. No they did not, sorry. “Me, too.” I muttered. Debbie spotted a man, on his own, walking down the walkway and asked him if he had a coat hanger. he did, and within 5 minutes, he had us in our car with the keys in my hot little hand. I offered to pay him and he refused, said he was more than happy to help. We thanked him - he could see the gratitude in our eyes.

“Well, you’ve done it again!” I said to Debbie.

“Done what” she asked.

“Saved yourself”, I sneered. We both laughed from sheer relief.

In the car, she told me she had had the same physical experience as she had the night before. We were both shocked that the second time around was just as powerful.

We walked about several of the other ruins on the site. One, and I can’t remember the name, seemed worse to me than all the others. I thought I could smell blood as I viewed the large kiva from that plaza. It had doorways and small openings and I immediately thought of the large arenas in Rome that gladiators fought in. Seemed a terrible place with heart wrenching energy attached to it.

We traced our path and took the fork in the road that had pulled to me. We pulled up to a small ruin and I immediately felt as if I knew the place.

“Water, Debbie, there was water here, a small stream or something and there were gardens over there. I lived here. There was a second floor. You see, from this terrace, I couldn’t see Pueblo Bonito. Gosh, I remember this well, I feel like I could just sit down and describe it in detail, like visiting a house I lived in as a kid or something like that.” I felt amazed and comfortable with the knowledge.

“I knew you didn’t have as difficult time as me, I just knew it. But we were both here together - at the same time, I mean, don’t you feel that?”

“Yes, I do feel that. I know exactly what role I played. I brought you guys food and water. I felt terrible about the way you were treated. I was free to walk around, tend the gardens. My life was much easier. But we left here. I feel like we left in that direction I wonder if we were caught and killed in that kiva where I smelled blood. I wonder what happened to us. I know I never returned to Mesa Verde”

“No,” Debbie broke my running verbal thoughts , “We never went back to Mesa Verde, I know that, too. Don’t know where we would have gone, we would have been on foot and there isn’t much out there to exist on. They would have caught us and probably killed us. I didn’t get a connection with that place where you smelled blood so I don’t think I was killed there except that being dead was surely better than that life.”

We drove back to the ranchette with long spaces of silence as we each assimilated what we had experienced. Every now and again, the silence would be broken when one of us thought of something new. We discussed and shared our feelings and thoughts, but when it came to figuring out why all this happened, we had no answers, no conclusion.

Two days later just before she walked onto the plane back to Washington state, she turned and looked me straight in the eyes.

“This isn’t over, it is unfinished business, you know that. We just have to figure out what the next step is. I’ll call you if I get any insights, and you do the same.”

“Agreement,” I promised, “Keep in touch.”

I watched her walk down the hallway into the plane. I stood a few minutes and watched the plane leave the runway. She was right, I thought, unfinished business!”

Chaco Canyon - A Rememberance, Part II, Unfinished business complete

With the passing of several years, I received several phone calls and letters from Debbie sharing insights. The major change seemed to be around her control issues. She had always explained it away as being independent, but with the experience at Chaco, this independence seemed to be melting away. She said that she was much more willing to compromise than she ever deemed possible. The ‘sting’ seems to be gone, she said.

We also became aware that neither of us liked to be ordered around, never took directions well, in fact, had the mind to do the opposite from what we were told, even as children. And we both hated joining groups. I, for instance, failed Brownies (the younger version of Girl Scouts). I could be a fun participant, but in large organized traditional groups, I wanted no part of it.

Debbie was ecstatic over how much more comfortable she was with life. I distinctly remember her saying that assimilating all the experience of Chaco had changed her life. She felt this was the reason she was always pushed to visit the place. ‘....so I could be free of it to do what I need to do in this life.’

The next time Debbie came to New Mexico to visit found us taking a weekend at the hot springs between Taos and Santa Fe, getting massages, mud baths and eating healthy yummy food. It was bliss, relaxing and fun. Packing the car to drive home, Debbie handed me a tape, saying that if I liked it, I could have it. So as we drove toward Santa Fe, I popped the tape in and settled in for the 2.5 hour drive home until Debbie saw a sign which read: Bandelier, 16 miles.

What’s that? she asked. ‘I don’t know, wanna go there?” “Might as well, we have plenty of time’. So off the main road I turned.

Before we realized it, we were in a traffic jam, trying to get into the parking lot of a state park. The tape was the only thing that kept me in the long line of cars, as we ended up waiting 45 minutes for a parking space.

As we walked into the park office, we both saw Indian looking relics. “Oh, no-o-o” I uttered, “what have you got us into now?” Debbie snapped back, “Get over it, clearly we are supposed to be here.”

We both started laughing. I had to sit down I was laughing so hard, the tears streaming down my face and I was doubled over, holding my stomach. the more I thought about it, the funnier it got. I realized I was making a scene so I told her I was going on ahead, she could catch up with me.

I left the office/museum and headed down the worn path to the ruins. I wasn’t 50 yards away when I walked up a steep incline and went under an arch carved out of stone. It was as if I had walked through a veil, a door, a window and a mantra came rushing through the eons to me - ‘you have come home - you are safe’.

I was stunned. I stood for a few seconds to get my baring on my feelings and thoughts. It was 90 degrees and I had chills up and down my body and felt chilled all over. I slowly kept walking, around a corner, up the steep path and found a wooden bench to sit on that over looked the walk way and the arch. I started to relax and began to breathe easier. I felt lighter and almost excited. “You have come home and you are safe’ kept ringing in my head. It felt good and before too long the sun warmed me up. I watched as people walked through the arch. Some paused a moment to examine it, but most just kept on walking and chatting without missing a beat. Then came Debbie. She didn’t notice me and I felt a little sneaky watching her silently. She paused under the arch for a moment and then went out of sight. I turned around on the bench so that I could see her expression when she rounded the corner. She looked puzzled.

I just walked through another door, only this time I didn’t come back out, but I feel all right. Actually I feel pretty good. It’s like I’m safe or something like that.”

I started smiling, “Me, too, it’s calming, guess you were right, we’re supposed to be here.”

“Yes, but I didn’t come back out.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, when I went under that arch, I felt I was walking through a doorway, felt calm, safe and happy, but I didn’t experience walking out of it again like I did at Chaco Canyon. Know what I am trying to say?”

“Yes, I think I do. Maybe this is the solution or settling or coming to an evenness with the experience of Chaco. Maybe you’ve resolved the conflict you have been carrying with you as soul memory since the Chaco Canyon life. Perhaps all the work you’ve done on it has cleared the way to a resolution of sorts.”

“Maybe so”, she said softly, “I just know I feel better about the whole thing. And you?” she asked and looked up at me.”

“Felt something similar, felt relief, huge sense of relief, safe, Like I was coming home and heard the words -’you have come home - you are safe’. I think we’ve come full circle, what ever that means.”

We hadn’t even scratched the surface of this ancient site. The land looked like a combination of both Chaco and Mesa Verde. Structures on the ground and then high rooms carved into the canyon walls.

We walked in silence, looking, experiencing. For me it was an easy trek as I felt a healing thing happening and the strong feeling of relief stayed with me.

There was a tall ladder that seemed to beckon - so I started up it. I’m not fond of heights, as Debbie well knew, so when I stopped half way up I heard her voice right behind me telling me not to look down, but to keep on going. I took in the security of her voice and continued on up the ladder against the high canyon wall.

Arriving at the top, I crawled in on my hands and knees as there wasn’t room to stand up. I discovered three small room like ‘perches’ each with a hole or window in which one could look out across the valley and see the entrance to the park. I positioned myself in front of the first window, leaving enough room for Debbie to crawl past me to the next window, which she did. We sat alone and silent high up in the cliff for what seemed like a long time.

With a combination of meditation, ising, feeling and experiencing the energy, I unfolded the story which came on the wings of feeling extreme relief. I had grown up in Mesa Verde, a peaceful and spiritual life with lots of connection to the earth. I was then stolen (this differs from Debbie’s point of view as she feels she was sold) and taken to Chaco Canyon where I worked in a group who were a ‘support service’ for the laborers (of which Debbie was a part). I did things like vegetable gardening, took food and water to the laborers, prepared meals, etc. I deplored the conditions they had to work in and the way they were treated. I became more and more homesick for my beloved Mesa Verde and more and more depressed about the situation in Chaco Canyon. I banded together with a small group of people who felt the same and we ran away.

The memory was that it took a long time to prepare to leave and then we had to wait for a time when we would have enough hours or days before they missed us so we would have a good head start. We left during the first six hours of a three day ceremony. There were visitors from far and near and the area was exploding with people and activity. Getting caught meant certain death. I am uncertain if we were trying to find Mesa Verde or not. I do know that our little band, which Debbie was a part, wandered that part of the country for several months until we stumbled upon Bandelier. There, it reminded us of Mesa Verde and we decided to stay as it offered a safe canyon, stream and was a place where we could live without much notice from other bands.

I realized I was sitting in a look out perch that gave a view of the entrance to the canyon as well as the activity of the residence below. I felt I had perched there many a time, watching for any scouts from Chaco that might be looking for us.

As I sat there, following the stream of this insight, a face appeared in the window blocking my view. It was a young woman in her twenties and I initially thought she was my relief person, but snapped back to present day reality when she smiled and said something about this being a safe place to sit for a while as she crawled pass me, pass Debbie and perched herself in the third and only remaining look out window. We all sat there in silence for a long time.

Finally, she said, “I feel like I’ve been here before” at which point both Debbie and I said in unison, “You have!”

I am unsure how long we all three sat there, but when one made a move to leave, we all three did. Being the last to get on the ladder to climb down, and seeing the height, I remember saying something about hard liquor and an air lift. That broke the silence and we all laughed.

We together toured the rest of the ruins, talking, sharing feelings and musing. When we got back to the car park, we sat at a picnic table so she could give her dog some water and share some cookies. We learned that Marilyn came from North Carolina. She had been laid off her job, had a bit of money saved, had wanted to visit Bandelier, Chaco Canyon and Mesa Verde for as long as she could remember. She felt the timing was right, so she packed her sleeping bag, tent and gear, and her beloved dog and headed out to follow her soul’s prodding. Bandiler was the first stop of her journey. We shared with her some of our experience at both places. She, along with us, felt that we had all three been on this trek before. She even stated that she felt she was doing it backwards, but that is the way it was turning out.

As we drove toward home late that afternoon, I popped the tape back in the deck. “This is a great tape, Debbie, what is it?”

Debbie kicked off her shoes, settled back in the seat, and looking straight ahead simply said, “It is by Medwyn Goodall and it is called: Medicine Woman.”

* Foot Notes

1. Since this adventure, some archeologists have come out with what they think is proof of cannibalism in ancient sites very near to Mesa Verde. Although Debbie and I didn’t experience that at Mesa Verde, we did feel like extreme rituals at Chaco Canyon were performed which resulted in the killing of animals and humans.

2. My knowingness of the Kiva we were in at Mesa Verde, told me it was a safe holding space for the physical body, while one could go play in the universe, OBE (Out of body Experience).

3. There is recent speculation that the word Anassazi could also mean (again in Navajo) The Evil Ones.

4. It is believed by the Navajo, Zuni and a few other tribes in the area that the Pueblo Peoples are direct descendants of the Ancient Ones. The daughter of a very wise Chief of the Navajo Nation, some years back, told me that her father told her many years ago that the Pueblo Peoples would neither agree or disagree with that notion. This led him to come to believe that it probably wasn’t so, that they may have once knew of the reasons but remained silent about it.

5. Debbie swears that they were time travelers - she will not be more specific than that. I have played with the notion, myself and feel that there maybe some truth to that feeling.

6. Today, Kivas in the Pueblos are used for ‘spiritual ceremonies’ - the women, to this day, are not allowed to take part or even enter a Kiva. Modern Kivas have high adobe walls around them and are usually located in the center of the Pueblo Village.

7. Marilyn - if you read this, please contact me through the address in my profile. We lost your address and both Debbie and I would like to get in contact with you.

The Quantum Mechanics of Fear

Fear is an emotion that is felt by the body. Sometimes it starts out as worry which is internal (our minds) and sometimes it starts out from an external source threatening our physical body. No matter how or why it begins, when it is felt, it moves through the body very quickly. It causes certain hormones to be released by our brain that allows us to move quicker and become a little bit physically stronger. These powerful hormones that are released, particularly adrenaline, can and do save lives, but they also become toxic to the body if the body is in a prolonged state of fear. It can cause illness of the body, and the breaking down of relationships, communication and self esteem. It is one of those wonderful double edged swords, or coins with two sides.

The emotion of fear with it’s toxin bearing qualities then starts to seep through the nerve endings of the physical body and is released into the atmosphere as an unseen energy. (This happens with all our emotions, but I will stick with the fear today).

We live in a sea of thought and emotional energy. Our nerve endings pick up this energy and transfer it into our being without much conscious discernment. This is one reason why mass hysteria and group violence happens. It can happen on a lesser scale among family members or on a larger scale which includes very large groups of people. We have seen it happen in large stadiums during sports games, or in countries during times of civil upheaval. You can equate it to a virus, which breeds and is passed onto others until anti-bodies are developed.

If we become aware of the dynamics, we can consciously choose our reaction, possibly even avoid nasty situations, but if we are not aware of it, we can find ourselves in the mists of chaos, anger, or rage and even join in, without ever realizing how we got there.

There is a deeper level to fear and the energy of it and I will call that the quantum mechanics of fear. When fear is festered within us by our emotions, dwelled upon by our minds and released by our bodies, we embark in a co-creative dance with the energies of the universe.

We begin to create the desire of that energy. In other words, we begin to manifest and draw to us the very thing that we fear. (this also happens with other emotions and is the reason prayer is so powerful).

I have a friend who was deathly afraid of spiders. She told me that she was forced to face that fear. Before she faced that fear, she said, she never thought about them - wouldn’t allow herself because when she did think of them and how scary they were, she would always run into one. She said that the fear in her called them to her. She said she found a way to deal with the fear of spiders (another story I might tell at another time) and removed her fear of them. Since then, she said, she seldom sees one. I have noticed that sort of thing within myself. The very thing you don’t want to happen, happens, as if your very thoughts created it. And the interesting thing is: they do!

The quantum mechanics of the emotion fear is that you give it power because of your thoughts. Remember, the ‘universe’ always says ‘yes’. It is unclear on exactly what you desire, so it sticks with the answer 'yes'. It supports us in the only manner it can and it supports the energy which we put out. So, if we put a lot of fear and fearful thoughts into something, you can rest assured it will come to pass.

In these recent days of terror and the abundance of violence, we all need to take a good look at what we fear. We need to find a way of seeing things clearly so we can defuse the fear within ourselves and in others. Fear, at this moment in time, will do us no good because it will paralyze us, it will get us in trouble, it will create something that few of us desire. Fear based creations never produce a win-win outcome.

Fear, like all other emotions, are and can be powerful tools, they are not forced upon us, they are a choice that we make. We choose to feel the way that we feel, we choose how to react to things, we choose our path, just like we choose the road we take to the grocery store or to the gas station. We can choose to overcome and be helpful, or we can choose to be paralyzed by fear. By choosing which emotion we feel and therefore emit out into our stratum, we also choose the outcome of a situation.

There are ways to combat the spiraling of emotions that we don’t consciously desire (read ‘The Shaman’). There are choices, we are not the slaves of our emotions.

This is a time to be consciously aware and responsible for what we are feeling, we want to choose wisely, we want to be completely aware of the choices we make and consider the future outcomes of those choices in our lives and in the lives of others. We want to be responsible participants in this, our country and our world. We must be very clear on the desired outcome that we want with long term future in mind.

- Prissy Hamilton