Sunday, August 31, 2008

Celebrate What's Right in the World

“I won’t see it until I believe it.
That’s the way life works” --Dewitt Jones

Image by Dewitt Jones (film-maker and world-class
photojournalist for the National Geographic)

On Wednesday, 03 Sept 08 I will be initiating the CelebraZine online magazine/blog carnival, a collection of uplifting and empowering video, image, text, and audio from positive creators around the web.

I recently heard on NPR that there is actually a 'Science to Getting a Yes,' a methodology to get people to respond positively, even when the presentation is truly to their own benefit. The general idea was that in order to sell a positive pitch you must begin the presentation from the view of dire consequence!

I, however, am a believer that our focus dictates what we (can or will) see, which reinforces our center of attention, perpetuating what we see. I do not believe that the negative is the most direct path to the positive. See: As We Believe, So It Becomes



Today is a preview of the works that CelebraZine will be presenting twice-monthly. I'd like to introduce you to this perspective by introducing you to our ‘key note speaker’ for our premier edition, Dewitt Jones (film-maker and world-class photojournalist for the National Geographic).

For those of you who do not already know, this twice-monthly CelebraZine was inspired by the sublime genius and genuineness of the message in Dewitt’s presentation of his world view in his short film, "Celebrate What’s Right in the World”. After seeing this presentation, I was certain that this was the kind of message I cared to see spread into the world—start with seeing the positive and move forward from there!

I contacted Dewitt’s office, expecting only to send an email to thank him for his message and the work he was doing. Much to my surprise, he contacted me, quite willing to exchange visions of the positive in the world. My conversations with Dewitt have reinforced my belief in presenting a message stemming from the positive.

Have a look at his 22-minute film, "Celebrate What’s Right in the World”. In it, Dewitt asks: "Do we choose to see possibilities? Do we really believe they're there?"


He assures us that there is always more than one right answer. Celebrating what's right with the world helps us recognize the possibilities and find solutions for the challenges before us.

This inspirational, best-selling film utilizes stunning photography and powerful dialogue to help viewers approach their lives with celebration, confidence and grace.

“As I celebrated what was right with the world, I began to build a vision of possibility, not scarcity. Possibility... always another right answer.” - Dewitt Jones




If you have never met Dewitt Jones before, he is one of America's top professional photographers with a career stretching over twenty years. As a motion picture director, he had two films nominated for Academy Awards before he was thirty. Twenty years as a freelance photographer for National Geographic earned him a reputation as a world class photojournalist. Dewitt now speaks to associations and corporations all over the world. More

To see more of Dewitt’s videos, photography, and books, go to http://www.dewittjones.com/html/products.shtml

Visit Dewitt's official Corporate Training website: http://www.celebratetraining.com/

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Serialization of Sacred Vow—Katerina (continued2)



“Sacred Vow by C.G. Walters is a book that truly casts a spell, transporting its characters -- and its readers -- to a parallel universe where dream visitations and psychic fusions occur and lives are drastically changed. Prepare to be transported to a mystical realm of rites and ceremony, where ritual cups of tea can trigger a visit to "the other side," where the power of language is extreme, and of the strength of desire runs deep.” -Jim Barnes, Managing Editor & Awards CoordinatorIndependent Publisher Online/Jenkins Group Inc.

Installment 7 of 22
Sacred Vow (Dragon's Beard Publishing, ISBN: 978-0-9774271-4-7, paperback, Fiction: Visionary/Metaphysical).


Katerina (continued)




Ian became certain that the teapot was the most crucial element in invoking the visits. During two lapses when he had no visits, however, it proved evident that removing anything else from the room also had a disruptive effect. He could only speculate why, since the combination of those items never caused the experience before the addition of the teapot.

The first period of Katerina’s absence began when Ian removed a balloon-back chair in front of his desk in the study to have its seat re-caned. At the time, Ian had no idea why Katerina ceased to join him in the tea ritual during the two weeks that the chair was being repaired. As the days passed he became quite distressed by her absence. He only hoped that the remarkable circumstances that made her visits possible had not ceased to exist.

On the evening Ian picked up the repaired chair, he had a flat tire on the way home. There was a light mist of freezing rain, which made changing the tire all the more frustrating. He was chilled when he got home. He brought the chair in, placed it beside the desk, and immediately started to make some tea, for a little warmth and comfort.

Concentrating on his warming brew, he looked up to see Katerina sitting in the newly caned chair, smiling and talking to him while she worked on a book of handmade paper.

His body was suddenly filled with warmth, and his heart gladdened.

“It is so good to see you, dear, dear friend,” he said. “Until this moment, I didn’t realize just how much I had missed you.” Ian was so overwhelmed with happiness that he was trembling slightly. He had to put the teacup down until he could recover.

Katerina smiled and nodded. Looking directly into Ian’s eyes, she spoke for a few moments, her facial expressions seeming to reciprocate his feelings. As usual, the only words he heard were his own.

Picking up his teacup, Ian rose from the chair and moved toward her. “How do you like the new caning? Does it sit well?”

Katerina was looking down, tying the binding on her book. Ian saw that she did not know that he was speaking. It didn’t matter. He was so content though, that as he neared her he continued talking.

“Do you think the absence of the chair could have interfered with our visit, Katerina? I don’t understand how it could. We were never able to come to each other before the teapot. I am sure the teapot is the source of our connection.”

Midway through his last sentence, as Ian was standing just in front of her, Katerina looked up at him. Raising her eyebrows, she questioned him for what he had said.

“I said that I wish I could do better at lip-reading. I am sure you can understand what I am saying, but it won’t help much for me to ask you a question because I won’t be able to understand your response.”

Her fingers finishing the knot on the binding, Katerina raised her shoulders and then began talking to Ian about something, very casually. He was sure it was intended to provide some comfort. She reached out to “touch” him.

After a couple of minutes, she quickly turned her head to one side, as if she had heard something.

“What is it, Katerina?” he said.

She lifted a finger, retaining her focus outside his study.

“Is one of your children calling?”

Katerina tilted her head and started to rise. Instead of coming to her feet before him, she vanished.

There he was, teacup in hand, looking at his newly caned chair. Comforted by her return, he moved back to the recliner and admired the caning that Katerina had been sitting on only moments before.

“Welcome back, Katerina,” he said as if she were still with him. “Come back to see me anytime.”

It was rare that they visited in his world, and Ian could not discern what determined who would visit whom. Though Katerina’s world was much more interesting to him, he would have preferred to always have her visit him in his study. When visiting in his home, Ian had independent mobility, the experience of moving about at will. He was also afforded the comfort of being fully corporeal. Katerina appeared to be solid flesh in either environment.

Much to Ian’s pleasure, his and Katerina’s teatime visits occurred regularly after that, and were uninterrupted for a couple of weeks. Then one night, he sat down with tea, and was surprised to find that he remained alone. He lingered, having several cups, thinking Katerina might return.

“What is keeping you away tonight, Katerina? Hope you are having fun. I miss you.”

He was disappointed, but not overly distressed. After all, Katerina did not visit every night.

The next night, still alone, he was a little more anxious. Just drinking tea and letting his mind wander, for no particular reason the incident with the balloon-backed chair came to mind suddenly.

“Oh, no. Is it I that have been keeping you away?” he said.

Ian began to frantically go over the inventory of the room, searching for what he might have done to disturb the ambience of the room.

“Think, Ian. Something tells me you’ve done something that you shouldn’t have.”

Midway through the second cup of tea, he realized what it was. The day before he had moved a Fauvist-style painting of a male angel—painted by a local artist—to another room. Without thought of any consequence, he just decided to try the painting elsewhere.

“The painting; I moved that angel! What was I thinking?”

He rushed to the painting and brought it back to its previous location in the study. Confidently, Ian headed back to his chair. Before he could raise his cup from the table, Katerina had come and gone. He could not remember any of the activity of the visit, but he had the sense that she had been with him. It was as if she made the connection, imbued him and the room with her presence, without ever needing to materialize.

Never again did Ian allow any article to be moved from the study.


Continued next week, Dark Visits

Last week, Katerina (part 2)


copyright 2006

CG Walters C.G. Walters primarily writes fiction that focuses on the multidimensionality of our loves and our lives.

Purchase as ebook or the Amazon Kindle version, or buy autographed copy.

Please join me as a friend at any of my other favorite hangouts: Facebook, StumbleUpon, Friendfeed, Twitter, Plurk, or Digg

Sunday, August 24, 2008

Better Than Sitting Around the House Doing Nothing

The most wasted of all days is one without laughter. ~e.e. cummings

Photo by Tambako the Jaguar


Two old men met on the street, walking in opposite directions. The elder of the two walked with a purpose, out for his daily routine. The second man moved slowly, as if his mind was elsewhere, not noticing his approaching friend until the elder said,

"How are you, Ben? Does the doctor have you walking now?"

The younger man replied: "No, I'm doing well. I just needed to get out of the house for a while."

Knowing that his friend's son had moved back into the homeplace a few months ago, the first man speculated that was the cause for his friend's uncharacteristic trek.

Thinking talking might help, he asked, "And how's your son? Is he still unemployed?"

"Yes, he is. But he is meditating now,” Ben replied, smiling, as if feeling some pride.

"Meditating? What's that?"

The smile only partially left Ben’s face, being somewhat replaced with the same quizzical expression that he wore when his friend started the conversation. "You know, Cyrus, I don’t know. But for some reason I feel better about it than having him sitting around the house and doing nothing!"

Please submit your favorite funny joke, image, video, or audio to be featured here (along with a short bio and links to your website) to kathmandau at cgwalters dot com

If you are enjoying the features of
CG's blog, get future installments sent directly to your email or reader via RSS feed.

When We Are Brought to this Earth, We Have a Mission





This is the fourth of a series of Native American Elders sharing their wisdom and prophecies.

Items of focus in this video include:

1) You do not look for your mission. You can drive yourself crazy looking.

2) The story of The Peacemaker.

Follow this link to my friend Resurrected1 who introduced this series to me.

Please submit your favorite spiritual video (along with a short bio and links to your own website) to kathmandau at cgwalters dot com

Be sure so submit uplifting, empowering video, audio, text or image to the CelebraZine blog carnival. For more information see: http://kathmandau.blogspot.com/2008/08/call-for-submissions-celebration.html

Saturday, August 23, 2008

In the Wild or a Relationship, The Symptoms of Losing Your Bearings are the Same


Photo by absolutwade

Mostly during the winter, I take long, meditative treks of upwards of 10 steady hours through the mountains. Now and again, I am just “bushwhacking” through no particular trail, without tools of navigation. So, on occasion I am walking on a day when there is a heavy fog or it is snowing—or I have pushed too hard and the mist is in my head. A couple of times on such days, I have come to a place where I just could no get a grasp on my bearings.

Unfortunately I periodically become lost
—or imagine that I am
and in that imagining, am lost


I know when the situation is approaching up on the mountain. First I feel the sense of my resources diminishing (my strength and assuredness). Then the feeling of ‘being in control’ starts to fade. If I do not take measures to remained calm/centered, then somewhere about now I can feel my psychology take an unnerving turn. No longer feeling quite as sure of myself, the negative traits of doubt, fear, confusion start to fuel up.

Over time, I have come to realize that the first symptom, not generally as easily noticed, is that my mind has become inflexible in its sense of direction. Exhaustion—depletion of psychological or physical reserves—is consistently the cause of this rigidness.


One cannot become lost without too rigidly defining your destination.--Strike a Chord of Silence

The situation up on the mountain, with virtually no visibility, is not much different from the sense of becoming “lost” in my everyday life. It happens whenever I become too rigid in my definition of self, job, relationship, or any other aspect of my life. The same scenario plays out, to the same ends. Some part of me realizes I am ‘lost,’ yet attempts to deny the fact—throwing good effort after bad. Being lost on the mountain is much easier to perceive than being lost in the comfort of my every day. However, the everyday is a place where staying centered is even more vital.


You have heard that “too much focus on the goal will cause you to miss the beauty along the way”? Well, it’s more than that! Rigid focus can cause the beauty that you already see before you to begin to evaporate.

When was the last time you got lost? What happened?

copyright 2008 CG Walters

If you are enjoying the features of CG's blog, get future installments sent directly to your email or reader via RSS feed.

Be sure so submit uplifting, empowering video, audio, text or image to the CelebraZine blog carnival. For more information see: http://kathmandau.blogspot.com/2008/08/call-for-submissions-celebration.html

Please join me as a friend at any of my other favorite hangouts: Facebook, StumbleUpon, Friendfeed, Twitter, Plurk, or Digg

Thursday, August 21, 2008

Serialization of Sacred Vow: Katerina (continued1)

photo by JF Sebastian

Sacred Vow is a unique, ingeniously written visionary/metaphysical novel about one true love and its infinite expressions. It asks the reader to consider an experience where our interconnectedness and ‘self’ definition might extend far beyond the segmented (individualistic) awareness previously held by so many. It takes us on a journey deep within, exploring and discovering one’s own mystical longings and a wealth of endless knowledge. Be prepared for some surprises.—Spirit in the Smokies Magazine of Living NEWStories

Installment 6 of 22
Sacred Vow (Dragon's Beard Publishing, ISBN: 978-0-9774271-4-7, paperback, Fiction: Visionary/Metaphysical).


Katerina (continued)



Katerina didn’t appear every evening that he had a cup of tea in his red leather chair, and she never appeared when that particular teapot was not in the study. Nor would she visit Ian in any other room, even if he had tea with that teapot there. One evening Ian found out she could materialize in the study when he was not having tea, but had, nonetheless, brought the pot into the room.

Planning to have tea a little later, Ian was in the kitchen rinsing the teapot when the phone rang. Still drying the outside of the pot, he went to the study to pick up the cordless extension. As he talked, Ian sat down in the antique recliner and placed the teapot on the table to his right. When the conversation was over, Ian turned off the phone, and laid it on the arm of the chair.

For no particular reason, Ian continued to sit and stare at the teapot. Suddenly he felt Katerina’s presence. Although it had not been that way in the initial visions, he had recently noticed that his awareness of Katerina was now instantaneous. No progression of sensations led to their connection. During the last few visits, she had consistently appeared someplace in his study, as if out of nowhere, without warning. Or, more likely, Ian had suddenly found himself in her world.

On this particular visit, Katerina was sitting on a bench near the very statue that had caused him trouble in a previous visit. She was playing a wooden flute. Of course he couldn’t hear the music she was making, but she painted a serene picture and seemed to be enjoying herself.

Quite content that he could move only in proximity with Katerina, Ian got her attention and pointed at the statue, to make sure it was not too far away. She nodded to confirm his intention.

The countenance of the statue looked uncannily familiar. It was a woman who looked very similar to Katerina, but it was not she. The stature and dress were regal. Ian leaned forward and stared right into the eyes of this stone woman. Even in marble, those eyes implied a wisdom that could recognize a person by his or her spirit within.

An unbelievably loud, grating noise rose right up Ian’s spinal chord. When it reached the base of his head, a shattering pain shot through the top of his skull. Ian jerked away from the statue, unable to believe that even in this place stone could generate such a sound.

“What is that?” he said.

The noise stopped. But he was back in his study as well. The noise had been the phone ringing and it only stopped only after Ian’s convulsion knocked it to the floor, breaking the connection.

In panic he looked at the table next to the chair, where he always set the teapot.

“Thank you, thank you,” Ian said. He had flung out only his left arm to silence the phone. The teapot sat safely on the table to his right.

He got up, disconnected every phone in the house, and pulled the curtains closed. He made tea and had a cup, hoping to return to Katerina and relax. He was unsuccessful in both pursuits.

“Tomorrow I will disconnect the doorbell as well,” he said, finally rising from the chair. “I’ll never again be yanked back before my visit is complete!”

From then on, Ian went through an invariable process of closing the house up, sealing himself off, and switching off all the phones before each tea.




The day soon came when Ian was able to visit Katerina in her cottage. With all his precautions in place, he settled into the recliner one night, hot pot of tea prepared and on the table beside him. He had not poured himself a cup. Yet, an old room of large stone and timber-frame opened up before Ian. The interior reflected the same grand artistry and craftsmanship as that he had previously seen on the exterior.

It took him a moment to become aware of his new surroundings, but Katerina was already smiling and talking to him—as she worked with some herbs.

“Hello, dear one,” he said. “Your home is even lovelier inside.”

With her hands in a pot of a liquid mix, she motioned with her head for him to look around. Fearful of encountering the limit of his energetic tether, he turned slowly around where he stood, taking in every detail of the environment.

The room was reasonably large, perhaps twenty-five by thirty feet. Judging by what he had previously noticed about the exterior size of the cottage, the staircase to the left of the area, and the windows he had seen from outside, Ian knew there were several other rooms in the house. This room seemed to serve as the all-purpose area. It was kitchen, dining room, and study. Shelves of books and a couple of large, comfortable upholstered chairs sat at one end. He and Katerina were at the opposite end.

The primary entryway was through an arched door in the center of one wall. The floor beneath Ian’s feet was of stone similar to slate, but more rustic. A few feet in front of the door was a sturdy, old rectory-style dining table, flanked by benches. Opposite the door was a very wide span of deep-set leaded transom windows, set over a kitchen counter made of large, handmade ceramic tiles. The cabinets under the counter were handmade, with wooden knobs. Shelves holding many kinds of ceramic jars covered the wall on either side of the windows behind the countertop. Between the windows and the back of the counter top, there was a window box filled with various flowers and herbs. Dried bunches of plants hung from the ceiling in several locations.

While Katerina worked with the flower essences, and another pot of dyes, Ian stayed near her. He could not assist her with her chores, for he still proved to be without substance in her world. Though unable to hear what she told him about her tasks, Ian could smell the aromas and was happy just to see the sights and pastimes of her life.

Obviously, Katerina had acquiesced to Ian’s innate inability to lip-read, no longer seeming to expect further progress. Ian was convinced that they understood much more of the intention of their communication by speaking naturally. One thing he was certain of: the silence did not diminish their enthusiasm for communicating with each other.

“What is your vocation, Katerina? I still don’t know if I visit only when you are away from work,” he said. “That happens to be the case with me because I initiate the visits, and can only do so at home, after work.”

Katerina watched him, considerately.

“At least I imagine that I instigate the visits—perhaps foolishly.” Ian had to question just how much of this experience he could afford to make assumptions about. It was all so anomalous.

He looked back at Katerina. She warmly smiled, continuing her work and patiently waiting for him to go on.

Ian speculated that the image of his form must be clearer to Katerina than it was to him in her world. When he spoke, she was always attentive for the duration of his monologue. Ian considered that this conduct might have been due to a difference in their cultures, but the ardor of her attention sometimes made him uncomfortable. If not for the familiarity that she also expressed, Ian might have thought she believed him to be a visiting dignitary or luminary. Maybe such a visitor as himself was not so common in this reality either.

“Never mind talk about work. I’m finished for the day,” he said.

Starting another look around the room, Ian changed his focus. “I think I like your world better than mine. With you being here, I am certain of it.”

It appeared that Katerina was reasonably well-to-do, for even if the house was an old, inherited family home, it would have cost a fortune to maintain the structure and its ornamentation, not to mention the extensive gardens that surrounded it. Even though the gas oven and the lighting that was similar to electricity implied that Katerina lived in a time with some modern technology, the furniture, doors, and windows of her home followed the d├ęcor of an architectural “period display”. It crossed Ian’s mind that he had only seen a home furnished with such a disassociation to present time when it was a part of a cultural heritage display, or perhaps a church property used as the home of a vicar in a wealthy parish.

When Ian returned his attention to Katerina, she began a very lively, cheerful conversation. He watched closely and picked up what little he could. From her animation and facial expressions, he took in the joyfulness she was conveying. Ian caught his name a couple of times, and a few hand gestures certainly were referring to him. She seemed to be speaking of some interaction that she had had with others, concerning him.

Stopping mid-sentence, Katerina jerked her head toward the heavy, arched door. The top half of it was open. She rose quickly from the stool where she had been sitting, and wiped her hands dry on a towel that lay on the counter. Ian had no idea of the sound she was responding to, but it now had her full consideration.

She moved quickly across the room, and swung open the bottom of the door. After a momentary delay, Katerina stepped out onto the stoop, awaiting some arrival. Of course, Ian followed, as he knew he must if he expected to continue the visit.

A little boy charged up the pathway, crying. Katerina kneeled and scooped him into her lap. She rocked and stroked him, speaking all the while. Ian slipped out the door and came close to watch her perform this magic. His movement disturbed neither the child nor Katerina. Though Ian believed that no one but Katerina could see him in this place, he suspected that the little boy would not have noticed anyone else anyway. The boy was completely focused on the comfort he was receiving from Katerina.

Apparently the child had scraped his leg. Katerina was consoling him, his head on her shoulder next to her face. She had one arm wrapped around him, and the other hand pulled various salves and herbs from her pockets and applied them. It was quite a ballet of motion. No wonder the children came to her. Ian could see how the rhythm of her speech and the loving way she touched the little boy would soothe him. Watching it was enough to hypnotize Ian into a state of tranquility.

Katerina must be the village godmother, Ian thought. He didn’t doubt that she was particularly adept at healing small injuries, whether to body or to spirit.

After a while, the boy was sufficiently soothed. His energetic predisposition returned, and he slid off Katerina’s lap. She gave him a little advice and a peck on the cheek. Away he went as fast as he had come. Katerina’s face was sublime radiance as she rose and returned her attention to Ian.

“Lovely,” he said. “What a lucky child.” What a lucky man, he thought of himself.

Fully returning from what almost seemed a meditative state, Katerina beamed a smile at Ian and continued with what he assumed was her previous conversation. They moved back into the cottage.

Thinking about Katerina’s manner with the children, Ian wondered why she was the only other adult he had seen in this place. But that question was soon to be resolved.

Ian and Katerina had a particularly long visit that day. As they talked Katerina sketched some pictures. Then she painted for a while. Later, she wove fragile baskets from the stems of the flowers that she had used in the essences earlier that morning. Ian was so comfortable and involved in their visit that he did not even notice when he started to return home. There was no warning at all. Instantaneously, he was sitting in his chair, still wrapped in the warmth of Katerina’s company. But he was alone now.

Without thinking about it, Ian looked at his watch and realized it showed he had eased into his chair only a few minutes before.

Enjoying his immediate memories, he thought about Katerina with the children during his various visits. It crossed Ian’s mind that she was not only supremely attentive with them. She paid the same special consideration to him as well. She possessed a remarkable selflessness, a singular thoughtfulness that made one feel more significant with her than when outside her company.

Ian’s visits with Katerina continued to be silent, but with every visit he felt a greater intimacy with her. He knew that much of what he felt was all in his mind. Ian became acutely aware, however, of the value of kind and loving gestures—of touch and conversation. He began to give greater value to the many other ways people can convey affection to each other, but so often take for granted.

(Katerina to be continued next week)

Last week, Katerina (part 1)

copyright 2006

CG Walters C.G. Walters primarily writes fiction that focuses on the multidimensionality of our loves and our lives.

Purchase as ebook or the Amazon Kindle version or buy autographed copy. http://sacredvow.dragonsbeard.com

Please join me as a friend at any of my other favorite hangouts: Facebook, StumbleUpon, Friendfeed, Twitter, Plurk, or Digg

Sunday, August 17, 2008

This 'End of the World' is a Very Interesting Concept to Us



This is the Third of a series of Native American Elders sharing their wisdom and prophecies.

Items of focus in this video include:


1) We must get over this idea of endless resources. When one speaks of a resource (animal, mineral, vegetable), that is not a resource, but our relatives.

2) That's a very strange concept, the 'end of the world.' It's not the end of the world. It's the end of us.

3) If you don't have a moral question in your governing process, you don't have a process that is going to survive

I am very much indebted to my dear friend, Resurrected1 who introduced this series to me and I am very grateful for the experience....collectively, we are wiser.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Serialization of Sacred Vow: Katerina


picture by imhis1




Sacred Vow is a unique, ingeniously written visionary/metaphysical novel about one true love and its infinite expressions. It asks the reader to consider an experience where our interconnectedness and ‘self’ definition might extend far beyond the segmented (individualistic) awareness previously held by so many. It takes us on a journey deep within, exploring and discovering one’s own mystical longings and a wealth of endless knowledge. Be prepared for some surprises.—Spirit in the Smokies Magazine of Living NEWStories

Installment 5 of 22 Sacred Vow (Dragon's Beard Publishing, ISBN: 978-0-9774271-4-7, paperback, Fiction: Visionary/Metaphysical).


Katerina







Ian and his new friend had quite a few pleasurable visits over the six weeks that followed. With the exception of a couple of short periods when she did not show at all, he saw her one to several times every week. Her visits lasted only seconds on his watch, yet the activity that he could recall made Ian feel that they had been together upwards of several hours at a time.

He came to call the woman Katerina sometime after her second visit. Absentmindedly interrogating himself after he returned from their time together, trying to get some better idea about what exactly he was experiencing, Ian realized that at some point he had begun referring to her by that name. The certainty and familiarity with which he used the name amused him.

Ian started to search for the justification of this inadvertent christening. Surely, he had picked up something in the vision without realizing it, something that suggested her name. After considerable deliberation, he found no such clue. And yet he experienced discomfort when he did not refer to her as Katerina. He was certain that he somehow knew her name. And even if it was not her name, what would it hurt to call her Katerina until he knew her name for sure? Using this name was much more soothing to him.




Ian next encountered Katerina as she was sitting in the grass under a tree of beautiful purple flowers. Comforting a dear, little girl, perhaps three years old, on her lap, Katerina acknowledged Ian’s presence at about the moment he became aware of her.

When Katerina spoke to him, the child looked about as if she had no idea whom Katerina was addressing. But, the little girl did not seem disturbed by Katerina’s response. Once the youth decided there was no one else with them, she laid her head back onto Katerina’s breast and closed her eyes.

“You have a lovely daughter,” Ian said.

Katerina shook her head, very slowly, in order not to disturb the child’s rest. The caring look for him on Katerina’s face gave comfort to the depth of Ian’s soul. He had never imagined that there could be so much connection between two people merely through visual communication. No wonder the child was so contented in the company of such an empathic woman.

“She’s not your daughter?” he asked.

Again, another slow denial, and then Katerina stroked the child’s hair.

He looked about at the surroundings. They were in a sculptured garden, spanning in all directions as far as he could see. True, he could not see much more than fifty yards in any direction, but the paths that disappeared in every direction implied there was much more beyond.

When Ian’s attention returned to her, Katerina was gazing intently at him. At first he was a little embarrassed with the attentiveness of her focus.

“You know. I suppose I should start by introducing myself, though it seems we are rather familiar already.” He was starting to ramble, so he calmed himself before continuing, “My name is Ian Sarin. It has been a joy to meet you, dear lady.” He bowed his head.

She nodded in acknowledgement, placed a hand on her chest opposite the head of the sleeping child, and spoke. It was obvious that she had introduced herself, but Ian did not catch her name.

“I am so sorry,” he responded. “I have always been inept at lip-reading.”

Then Ian started nervously rambling again, “You know, after we met the second time, I got the most assured idea that I already knew your name. I had no reason for it, but I just couldn’t help believing that your name was Katerina. In fact, having become so certain of it, I was afraid that I would just call you . . .”

Noticing her smiling and nodding, Ian regained his focus, thinking he had missed something she was trying to convey.

“I am sorry. What did you say?”

Again, she placed a hand on her chest, but spoke with slow, exaggerated movements, slightly pausing between each syllable. She appeared to say I . . . am . . . Kat . . . er . . . ina.

What she said seemed obvious, but Ian distrusted his eyes. Surely, his own preconception of her name was making him imagine that he understood what she said. Still, he had to check.

“Katerina? Your name is Katerina?”

She nodded with enough enthusiasm that the little girl stirred to see what was happening.

“That’s amazing,” he said. “How could I have possibly guessed that?”

Katerina kissed the little girl’s cheek, and tried to coax her head back to rest. Apparently, the little one had received all the comfort she required and was fully revitalized. Without any further indication of intent, the child jumped to her feet, looked quickly to one side, and started to talk excitedly.

Katerina nodded, and the girl rushed toward one of the many paths radiating from the clearing. Waving back to Katerina, the child barely missed running into Ian. She seemed no more aware of his presence than she had earlier.

He laughed at the transformation and watched the child disappear around a flowerbed. When he turned to look back at Katerina, Ian was surprised that she was now standing right in front of him, gazing into his eyes.

Katerina reached to touch him, but her hand remained barely suspended in front of the upper right side of his chest. “Hello,” she mouthed. He was sure of that.

Reflexively, Ian reached to touch her face.

He was so engrossed in her eyes, that he did not really pay any attention to his hand. Anticipating the touch, his senses informed him that his hand had moved enough that it should now be reporting the feel of Katerina’s skin.

Ian pulled his attention from her eyes and looked to where he expected himself to be touching her face, along her jaw line. The translucent distortion that he saw instead of his hand caused him to jerk backwards. He pulled his hand back, bringing it right in front of his eyes for a better look. Still Ian saw nothing but a fuzzy impression of a hand.

“What the . . . ?” he said, stepping back again.

Noticing that Katerina was waving her hand in front of his face, Ian let his attention follow her hand. She drew a single finger to her lips, gently suggesting quiet, calm. From her lips, his attention went back to her eyes; in the process he became as subdued as the child had been a moment before.

What difference does it make that my hand is not solid? he thought. Ian looked around himself and back to Katerina. It was an odd feeling to perceive himself as the only intangibility in the environment.

“Look where I am, what I am doing,” he said out loud. “Why should I be so surprised just because I see something else unexpected?”

Though still not completely comfortable with the appearance of his hand, he was calmed. Being careful not to point with his finger, Ian asked for a tour. “Let’s take a walk. Please tell me about this gorgeous garden.”

They wandered about for quite a while, winding through path after path. It was all much manicured, more like an arboretum or a study of wild flora than the garden of even a lavish estate. He didn’t see any indication of a dwelling of any kind. Of course, since Ian could not hear anything during the visitations he could not rely on sound to tell him if they were close to any houses.

With the sights and the company, it did not take Ian long to completely forget about the distortion he saw instead of his hand. The couple talked like long-lost, dear friends, spending most of the time looking into each other’s eyes as they talked and walked. He was surprised that neither of them stumbled, he especially, since he had no idea where they were going.

Though he did not ever feel the contact, Katerina reached out to touch or stroke Ian—or more precisely, his location—frequently. He was amazed how much intimacy could be conferred by the implication of such a motion. The gentleness with which Katerina carried out those gestures, the look in her eyes, almost satisfied any need for touch, to a degree that he had never known before.

When she was close enough, Ian “touched” Katerina. He had no physical sensation as a result of the effort, and he did not look for confirmation of that touch. He did not want the pleasure of his experience interrupted by what he suspected he would or would not see.

As Katerina continued with the tour of the endless garden, Ian’s conscious mind started to push for answers to questions. Was he only a matter of his consciousness projecting to a location near Katerina when he was in her world? If so, what were the perceived sensations of his body in this place? He experienced fragrances, experienced movement as he walked.

And there was one odd sensation that was starting to disturb him. Ian’s movement had a vague hint of being guided, as if he was in some confined space. He walked along with Katerina, but it didn’t fully feel as if he was moving as a result of his own physical effort. The idea made no sense to him. Yet, it did explain why he never stumbled as he kept his eyes only on Katerina during their tour of the garden.

Two little children came barreling down the path. Their little faces lit up when they saw Katerina. They began chattering and waving, without slowing their pace. She replied with similar enthusiasm. Off they disappeared in the opposite direction, without any indication that they had seen Katerina’s guest.

The interruption was good for Ian. It brought him back to the joy of his moment. He returned to the steady exchanges with Katerina, rather than dwelling on the pointless concerns of his conscious mind.

Shortly afterward, he and Katerina stepped into a clearing and the sky opened up over them. The flood of sunlight drew Ian’s attention ahead and then upward, where he noticed a magnificent old-world building.

“What a remarkable place, Katerina! What is that?” Ian said, looking back and forth between Katerina and the structure, which stood about fifty feet away.

Moving in front of him, Katerina lifted her left hand toward the structure, as if to introduce it to him.

Overwhelmed by its unique beauty, Ian repeated, “What is it?”

She looked him right in the face and began to slowly pronounce something. Ian hated trying to lip-read. He found the slow, labored pronunciations to be more distracting than helpful. For all he knew, Ian caught nothing of what Katerina said, despite her efforts.

“Do you live here?” he guessed.

Yes, she nodded. Motioning for him to move forward, they headed for a large, ornate entrance. Katerina began telling him about it, at normal speed.

Her home was the archetypal French country cottage. It was neither small, nor very big. The exterior was extremely well crafted with stone, stucco, and heavy timbers. Quite a bit of the stone and exposed wood was carved, apparently by various craftspeople on different themes, at different times since the styles were so different. The cottage had to have been ancient. Unless her world was much different from his, he thought, not even the wealthy built homes of this size with such detail and artistry anymore.

Ian realized that he was acting as excitedly as one of Katerina’s young friends. Moving this way and that, he tried to take in all the rich detail. Katerina moved toward whatever he showed an interest in and tried to tell him about what he was seeing. Nearer the main door, off to one side of the building, there was a sculpture that fascinated him. Katerina stopped to see what he was looking at.

A path led directly to the intriguing sculpture. She waited to see if he wished a closer look. Ian turned toward the house, concluding that he could see the statue well enough from where he was, and he did not want to delay their entry into the house. Katerina followed suit and turned to continue toward the door.

An instant later Ian changed his mind. “I’ll be right back, Katerina. I am going to run over there for a quick look at the statue.”

As he was behind her, Katerina did not see his change of direction. A few steps into his jog, a sense of internal strain, a visceral pull, started to get Ian’s attention. Another couple of steps and he experienced a rush of faintness. Before he could take another step, Ian lunged back—against his recliner.

The return to his study was abrupt, but he recovered without complication. His little stroll toward the statue alone let him know he was correct in supposing he could not move far from Katerina when in her reality. Based on that experience and the children’s unawareness of him, Ian concluded that in that place he was an apparition honed in on, and seen only by Katerina.


(Katerina to be continued next week)

last week, Tea Ceremony (part 2)

copyright 2006


CG Walters C.G. Walters primarily writes fiction that focuses on the multidimensionality of our loves and our lives.

Purchase as ebook or the Amazon Kindle version

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Many thanks to Karen at Creative Carnival - September 2008 for featuring this article.

When Do You Feel Most Alive?

I feel most alive when I am fully connected with the Absolute--and I have the good fortune to find that blessing in many forms—when I am open, without expectation.

Note: This list is in no order of any sort.

Writing makes me feel that connection. Quite often I will experience a spurt of the connection, but it is strongest when writing on a novel for long hours, days and days. I can tell that I have the connection by the unwarranted sense of joy that flushes through me. It’s that state of what psychology calls “the flow.” The story seems to write itself, introducing me to ideas, emotion, and perspectives that are not contained within my conscious mind.

I encounter the connection when in nature. It happens most times the moment I disappear into the woods. Though the sensation is not fully time-dependent, I have to admit that I quite often come to my most mystical experiences in nature after walking the mountain ridge for long hours. The steady rhythm and flow of beauty going by me seems to search out and soothe even the most hidden desensitization within.

Spending time with my wife, doing even the most mundane rituals that we have made our own, makes me more alive than I could ever otherwise be. That is the blessing of deepest union with another spirit with whom you both flourish as one.

Laughing, and laughing with dear friends can be almost mystical—something you cannot justify in words, but after it is done, you know that you have become more than you were.

Deep meditation—whether for five minutes or two hours—does wonders to make me feel connected, alive, healthy, and content. By the way, meditation can be just about any activity that diffuses my conscious attention and brings me into full connection with the moment.

What makes you feel most alive? Why?

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photo by Michael Esplana

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

What's Your Favorite Poem, and Why?


I have a couple, one for its beautiful imagery:

Green Mountain by Li Tai-Po

You ask me why I dwell in the green mountain;
I smile and make no reply for my heart is free of care.
As the peach-blossom flows down stream and is gone into the unknown,
I have a world apart that is not among men

.…and another favorite, for its harsh truth:

Much madness is divinest sense
To a discerning eye;
Much sense the starkest madness.
’T is the majority In this, as all, prevails.
Assent, and you are sane;
Demur,—you ’re straightway dangerous,
And handled with a chain.
- Emily Dickinson

Please share your favorite poem(s)? And why…

Photo by GraemeNicol




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Monday, August 11, 2008

What's on Your Mind?

image by kevindooley


Oh, there is always a steady stream of activity running through my mind. Most of it is what Robert A. Johnson would call passive fantasy—pointless chatter, paying the bills, how long before we have to replace the car, etc., etc. It’s ok—because it’s normal, if not inevitable---for these thoughts/passive fantasies to pass through the mind. But allowing them to take residence and start receiving mail there will deplete physical, mental, and psychic energies. I like the idea that was given to me about my mind being as a lake and the thoughts being clouds. Clouds pass over the lake and cast a reflection. The lake does not resist the clouds, but acknowledges the clouds in reflection. Additionally, the lake does not hold onto the reflection as the cloud passes in its time.


Note: any attempt to resist the thought has always proven for me to give it focus, energy, and more power.


Fortunately, there are a lot of wonderful reflections that pass over my lake, my wife’s smile, the mist rising in the forest, the birdsong outside, and my next novel that is luring me into its tale. I have to admit, though, that I am not so good about letting these reflections pass….but if that is enlightenment, I will let it pass like a cloud for now….


What have you been thinking about recently? What's been burdening you, or what have you been waiting to share? What's been calling you? Are you listening?

Sunday, August 10, 2008

Call for Submissions, Celebration Magazine

A new carnival, a Digital Magazine, Celebration eZine (http://blogcarnival.com/bc/cprof_4924.html), is calling to you, my friends. This is its first call for submissions, with a challenge: Show our readers What’s Right in the World!


Once we place our initial edition, I will be hosting it twice a month on my blog, Into the Mist (http://www.kathmandau.blogspot.com/ ) and distributing it to many other host sites.

Our focus dictates what we see, which reinforces our focus, determining what we see. There is much beauty and wonder in the world around us….uplifting validation that we are Spirit, we are connected, and all that is before us is sacred!

Inspired by the sublime genius of the message in Dewitt Jones“Celebrate What’s Right in the World” (http://www.dewittjones.com/html/celebrate.shtml ) video (be sure not only to see the preview, but the full free 22 minute video --registration required), I wish to invite you all to contribute to this new blog carnival, but more than that…a Digital Magazine!!!

Dewitt Jones’ message is as old as consciousness, but he has presented a particularly inspired personal rendition of this vital message. If you have any question about the type of material that we’re looking for, have a look at Dewitt’s video, and I am sure you too will be infused with the spirit of wonder.

We blog more than text alone, so I am soliciting text (how-to and otherwise), video, images and audio that uplifts and empowers the readers of this carnival—hopefully giving them new eyes of wonder for the world around them, new expectations of good things and beauty to happen around them, to them.

Note: Please include “descriptions with all submissions.

Accept the challenge…show us what’s right in the world today, so that we may see even more of the beauty, the positive, the hope tomorrow. submit an article, image, video, or audio (http://blogcarnival.com/bc/submit_4924.html )

In addition to your own submissions, please forward this email to any other inspired bloggers that you know who might be willing to contribute!

I look forward to the new eyes you share with me.

Many blessings to you and all you hold dear,
CG

What We Need In the US is a Bill of Responsibility




This is the second of a series of Native American Elders sharing their wisdom and prophecies.



Items of focus in this video include:


1) "You have to raise your own leaders..."


2) "The most important thing is that the leaders change their focus from power and authority to responsibility....there should be a Bill of Responsibility.”


3) "of the major economic units in the world today, 49 are countries and 51 are corporations...so what kind of kind of decisions are going to be made on our behalf by the corporate 'states?"


Again, it was my dear friend, Resurrected1 who introduced this series to me and I am very grateful for the experience....collectively, we are wiser.

Saturday, August 9, 2008

Assessing Actions


image by Beautymist

I have to be careful not to assess actions as if there were some objective correlation between any deed and what I can anticipate as its result. It is a bit of psychological shorthand, often inspired by the pace in which we try to process information/experience these days. However, the price of this convenience is that we might not look deeply enough into the act and its initiator to recognize its true character. After all, it is primarily the motivation/intention of any action that will determine it final nature.

Look within the mind that conceived the goal if you seek the tools to judge the value or success.—Strike a Chord of Silence, CG Walters

Alan Watts is a philosopher that I have always enjoyed, mostly because of his combination of insight and unwillingness to take anything too seriously—at least that was the persona of his lectures. In an example of assessing the truest nature of one particular action that is easily categorized—war—this (unfortunately) eternally relevant quote from his book, “The Way of Zen” seemed particularly pertinent in the world today.

“It is a basic Confucian principle that it is [a person] that makes a truth great, not truth that makes [a person] great. For this reason, ‘humanness’ or ‘human-heartedness’ (jen) was always felt to be superior to ‘righteousness (i), since [people themselves are] greater than any idea which [they] may invent. There are times when [people’s] passions are much more trustworthy than their principles. Since opposed principles, or ideologies, are irreconcilable, wars fought over principle will be wars of mutual annihilation. But wars fought for simple greed will be far less destructive because the aggressor will be careful not to destroy what he is fighting to capture. Reasonable [humans] will always be capable of compromise, but [people] who have dehumanized themselves by becoming blind worshipers of any idea or an ideal are fanatics whose devotion to abstractions makes them enemies of life.”

In reading this, I was taken with several points:
1) There is at least some benefit to greed (and other ‘bad’ traits, etc.—if we see from a broad enough perspective)

2) Ideologies are irreconcilable, but not people


3) Blindly following an ideal is dehumanizing

Also, I would like to restate this great bit of Confucian wisdom:
It is [a person] that makes a truth great, not truth that makes [a person] great.

For those of you who would like a quick re/introduction to Alan Watts, try these videos http://deoxy.org/watts.htm

Blessings, my friends.

***

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In celebration of CG’s upcoming non-fiction book, Strike a Chord of Silence, for a limited time autographed/signed copies of C.G. Walters’s current novel, Sacred Vow from the author are available.

Thursday, August 7, 2008

Serialization of Sacred Vow: Tea Ceremony (continued)

The most significant event of your life calls to you, from barely beyond your perception…both imminent and impossible… a call of the heart, of the spirit, and of yourself to which you have not yet been introduced.

Sacred Vow is visionary fiction of a journey toward our one true love…in its infinite expressions…bringing together two individuals from disparate realities—but one spirit—to heal the rift in the Collective Consciousness…a breach that threatens us all.

Installment 4 of 22 Sacred Vow (Dragon's Beard Publishing, ISBN: 978-0-9774271-4-7, paperback, Fiction: Visionary/Metaphysical).



Tea Ceremony (continued)



About a month later, Ian had convinced himself that he was in charge of his own choices. Despite not feeling in control of every emotion, he let down his rational guard and began pursuing another experience with the woman of that unforgettable night. Speculating that the image had been a product of a combination of environmental factors in his study, Ian decided to duplicate the circumstances to the best of his memory.

His efforts did not produce a vision the next few times he had tea in the study. Perhaps, Ian thought, he was trying too hard. In time, however, the woman did reappear. This time they did not meet in the forest, but in his study.

The progression of her appearance was precisely the same as before. The items in his focus began to blur. Then a transparent outline of her figure emerged. As she began to take form, Ian noticed a growing tension within himself. He speculated it was the conflict between what he perceived and what his logical mind could accept. Forcing himself to relax, the queasiness he was feeling disappeared quickly.

She was wearing a much more formal-looking garment with a cowl, embroidered with many of the same symbols as the tunic she had worn before. When she fully materialized at the other end of the study, she raised both hands and gracefully pushed the hood back from her face, and down onto her shoulders. A feeling of joy swept over Ian as he saw her smiling face unveiled.

His pretense of scientific research fled the moment she arrived. In the brief instant before total abandonment into the moment, Ian took mental note of the genuineness that denied what he perceived as merely visual. Nor was Ian stirred to know why he felt what he did, but allowed himself to revel in it.

Ian was disappointed that the woman did not offer a kiss on this visit . . . and a visit was what it felt like to him. Instead, she slowly raised a palm in salutation. He got up from his chair and welcomed her to his home.

“It’s so good to see you again, my friend,” he said. “Come and have a seat with me.”

She shook her head and pointed to her ear. Ian understood that she could hear no more of what he said than he had heard from her during their last visit. Turning to his recliner, he motioned to it with his hand. She declined, pressed her hands together as if in reverent thanks, and lowered her head slightly.

They stood, smiling and staring at each other. Ian did not know what she was feeling, but he was certain that their lack of dialogue did not limit their interaction. For his own part, Ian felt much communication was taking place, without the need of a single sound.

She glanced about the room, eventually gesturing as if to ask if it would be all right for her to have a look at a pottery piece that displayed stamped Celtic symbols.

“Sure,” he said. “Make yourself at home.” He rushed over to join her. “It’s made by a potter who lives in the mountains where I go sometimes. I love the symbols that the artist has used.”

His visitor stooped to look closely at the miniature monolith. She pointed to a symbol, a triskele, looked up at him, and made a comment he could not hear. Ian raised his hands to either side of his chest, palms upward, and shrugged his shoulders to indicate that he did not understand what she meant. Standing upright again, she pointed to a triskele on her garment.

“They are the same!” he said. Ian wondered if she was from a Celtic culture.

He knew, however, that the triskele was not unique to the Celts.

Wishing to present the woman with a gift, Ian picked up a small candleholder that also bore the triskele design and offered it to her.

“Please, let me give you this.”

She appeared grateful of his offer, but shook her head, declining politely.

“Please,” he insisted.

After pausing for a moment—that Ian took to be considering how to respond—she slowly reached out a hand as if to touch the pot. Excited that she was accepting the gift, he further extended his arm. Without ever touching the pottery, her hand jerked away and her face took on a look of fright.

This movement caused Ian to quickly withdraw his outstretched hand and almost drop the candleholder. After recovering his composure, he noticed she was smiling again, but she had both hands up in front of her, palms out, signaling that he should not bring the pottery to her. She slowly pointed one hand to the place from where he had taken the pot. So, he put it back on the shelf.

With that bit of awkwardness, their visit began. Ian’s visitor relaxed and returned her attention to his offered token, gracefully nodded in thanks again, and mouthed something, about the pottery—he assumed.

Ian silently watched her and his embarrassment evaporated. The gentle woman looked up and gave him another of her enchanting smiles. Showing her about the room, he talked and laughed as if she could hear him. She responded in kind. Happily, they carried on their silent exchange.

It became apparent to Ian that she did not want to touch anything in the room, or else could not. Several times she motioned to Ian to turn an item around, so she could see its backside.

At some point, Ian’s new friend moved to have a look at a book in the bookcase. She took a couple of steps toward it—and then vanished into thin air. Ian was seized with a momentary distress, and then he was startled to find that he was again sitting in the recliner, teacup in hand. He could not understand how it was possible, but evidence suggested that he had never moved from the chair. From all appearances, Ian had been the only one in the room the whole time. But he felt certain that he knew otherwise.

Now that Ian had experienced another visit—or visions, because he interchangeably referred to the experiences by both terms, unable to conclude which they really were—he looked forward to enjoying another one. Ian planned not only to enjoy them but also to find some answers. Crafted after his experiences in computer testing, he would use a base environment of everything just like it had been the first (and second) teatime. He made the same type of tea, used the same teapot, and sat in the same chair. Everything was just the same as it had been previously.

After a couple of successful visits, he started to change one thing at a time. If changing something kept her away, Ian would return things to the way they had last been for the next tea, verify another success, and then see if he could cause a repeat failure. The first conclusion he drew was that even with the absolute replication of the first visit setup, success was not always guaranteed.

Continued next week, Katerina
copyright 2006


CG Walters C.G. Walters primarily writes fiction that focuses on the multidimensionality of our loves and our lives.

Purchase as ebook or the Amazon Kindle version

Please join me as a friend at any of my other favorite hangouts: Facebook, StumbleUpon, Friendfeed, Twitter, Plurk, or Digg

Guest Blogger: 07 Aug 08: Mary Jaksch

In my weekly post of a guest blogger (or repost of another’s work that I have found inspiring). I would like to introduce you to Mary Jaksch, another of the many talented creators sharing inspired work. Thank you, Mary, for your works in making our world a more wondrous place.



Photo by malias

Has this ever happened to you? You start thinking about someone you haven’t seen in years. Next moment you see them walking towards you. Or you remember a long-lost friend. Then the phone rings and you find that it’s her or him on the line!
.

Carl Jung called such experiences synchronicity. In his research he noticed that some occurences were connected in such a meaningful way that they seemed to defy the laws of probability. There are many different explanations for synchronicity. Most theories one of three explanations:
.

1. Synchronicity is connected to our psychic abilities. This means that we can intuit when a certain person is going to ring us, or is walking towards us. This is why we start thinking about them.
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2. Mysterious affinity: Certain people, objects and happenings are connected to each other. Sychronicity make these connections visible.
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3. The mind can manifest objects and happenings. This theory has been expanded into the ‘Law of Attraction”.

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Here is an example of how these theories play out. A short while ago a young man talked to me about his professional future. In the course of the conversation, he reached a decision to find and apply for a short-term contract as a Communications Manager. Imagine his surprise when he arrived home to find an email from a recruitment agency that had last been in touch with him some five years earlier. In the email they invited him to apply for an eight months contract as a Communications Manager!
.
That’s synchronicity. How can such an improbable event happen? According to the three theories above, these could be the reasons:

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a) He had a precognition that the recruitment agency would contact him and therefore started thinking about employment.

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b) The intersection between his wish of getting a contract and the email from the recruitment agency was a meaningful sign that this was the right plan of action.

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c) His wish for the position manifested the email.

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I’m not sure which is the right explanation. What do you think?

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If we want to use synchronicity for creating a happier life, there is one core point that we need to remember:
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Synchronicity is a call to action.
.

Here is an example:
;
Some years ago I was dining with my partner in Buenos Aires. We looked across to a lovely young woman sitting alone at a table. David said,

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“Oh, how sad for her to be here all alone. Shall we ask her to sit with us?”
“I’d love to but I don’t want to intrude,” I answered.
.

.

Shortly afterwards she came over to our table. She pointed at my neck:

“I see you’re wearing a Maori carving around your neck. Are you from New Zealand?’
.

We instantly dragged up another chair. It turned out that Monica lived in Brazil and worked for a New Zealand company. It was the start of a lasting friendship!
.

In this instant the sychronic aspect was hidden to David and myself. But we could feel the pull of affinity. Only Monica could see that our connection with New Zealand was the synchronic bond. If she hadn’t acted upon it, we would have missed out on a wonderful friendship.
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A synchronic event is a personal messages from the universe.
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If you just walk on without regarding the message, a valuable opportunity may be lost. We are all inter-connected. Synchronicity shines a light on the hidden web of destiny.
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If we act upon the secret connection that synchronicity reveals, we invite good fortune.
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What’s your experiences of synchronicity? Please share your stories in the comments.

***
Mary Jaksch has achieved quite a few milestones in her journey through life: she's a Zen master, psychotherapist and author. Her book Learn to Love is now translated into five languages and she has recently published an Ebook called From Tragedy to Triumph: Winning Through a Life Crisis. Mary was awarded an MA in Religious Studies, holds a 4th Dan Blackbelt in karate, started her professional life as a flautist, and loves dancing Argentine tango in skimpy skirts. That’s quite a mix, isn’t it?

To see more of Mary's inspiring work, visit her at GoodLife Zen

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

What do you need to be reminded of?

These are three things that have, for me, consistently proven to be the core of my beliefs—spiritual, emotional, and ethical. Given these three reminders, I can find my way again, rather quickly. Given only the first two, and I will find my path, but it would take longer. If I could be given only the 1st reminder, I would still return to my core, but it might take some experimentation along the way and the end path may not be precisely the same.

1) Truth is but a resting place until the next revelation.

2) Every face is that of the Absolute.

3) All things are true or false, both true and false, neither true nor false, all of the above and none of these, at the very same time. Only the individual can justify the categorization, based on the context of their personal need and experience.

And you? What do you need to be reminded of? Today? Periodically?

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

If you could design a religion, what would it look like?

The definition of religion has picked up too much heavy baggage. I prefer the term “belief system.”

It is an incomplete belief system that does not encompass the very concepts of its contradiction.**

Otherwise it is only half a truth, constructed in fear of its own demise.
A belief system should be a nourisher of the believers, else it does not justify the intrusion on the silence. It should give to its adherents not its truth, but provide a sacred environment to realize their own truth.

A belief system is a tool to aid a person in producing a result.

Never can the tool be more important than the craftsperson.**

Too often religion is practiced in the absence of these things. In such improper practice, religion becomes the sarcophagus of a once living truth. In such hands, religion is the rigid remains of what was living and life imbuing, but has a monument to itself and its leaders.

Try not to take excessive offense when confronted with another’s beliefs that you cannot abide. We re are often introduced to our own beliefs by defining their conflicts with something we disagree.**

If you could design a religion, what would it look like?


copyright 2008 CG Walters

Words do not contain truth, but may reflect the truth that you hold within.
This is my truth. Only you can determine if there is any value in it for you.

C.G. Walters primarily writes fiction that focuses on the multidimensionality of our loves and our lives. His current novel, Sacred Vow is a metaphysical novel about a man who responds to the mysterious call of [his soulmate], opening the way to redefinition of both himself and his understanding of the world around him…Highly recommended. —Midwest Book Review.

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In celebration of CG’s upcoming non-fiction book, **Strike a Chord of Silence, for a limited time autographed/signed copies of
Sacred Vow are available! – or buy from your favorite brick and mortar, or online store (Amazon.com ). Purchase Sacred Vow as ebook http://www.mobipocket.com/en/eBooks/eBookDetails.asp?BookID=79405&Origine=3971 or the Amazon Kindle version