Eco Spiritual Blog

In January, I was in Hawaii.  In February, I was in Switzerland.  In March, I stayed at home and enjoyed the beauty of the blossoming Colorado springtime, with its sporadic sunshine mixed with snow flurries.  It is now April and, in a few days, I am leaving for Dubai, then on to Bali.  Life is such an adventure.

What amazes me the most is that no matter where I travel, Mother Nature is waiting there – inviting me into her arms.  I find such deep connection with the Divine.   There is something experiential about the doorway Nature provides that is beyond the thinking mind.  It is my very soul that awakens.  Everything about Nature is connected – and interconnected.  And I am Nature, as well.

Whether I think of Nature as an expression of God – or Mother Earth as and expression of Goddess – I am so blessed.   The oceans, mountains and deserts offer such wisdom.  There are so many voices to hear.  Each tree is a holy verse – and each animal carries a story of such profound importance that I wish I had time to memorize them all.

This sacred experience is true Ecospirituality.  It is beyond words  – beyond thinking – and can only be experienced.

Ecospirituality is a rich and wonderous awareness of the sacredness of all life, in every form.

This sacredness brings me incredible peace.

I send that peace to you, this day, wherever you are.

Love

It is easy to love a laughing child.  It is easy to love the playfulness of a  kitten.  It is easy to love a beautiful sunrise or a bright yellow harvest moon.  It is easy to love a soothing lullaby, the first spring flowers, and the mist that floats across the lake.  It is easy to love the smell of a home-cooked meal, the crunch of leaves underfoot in the fall, the sound of the surf, and the person who loves you in return.  It is easy to love….

or is it?

Valentine’s Day is Sunday, and I am reminded to care for the tender hearts of those in my life who do not find love easy at this time.  In my circle of friends, there are those who are alone, those who have suffered great loss, ended relationships, are alone, those for whom “love” is a painful word, those who feel overwhelmed in a red and pink heart-shaped sea of chocolate and roses to which they cannot relate.

I am reminded that “Love” can hurt – as in ” I am doing this because I love you” -  or “You would, if you loved me!” – and that “Love” can stop a person from saying “No” to what is harmful.

“Love” is a powerful word that is used more often than not, without thought.  It is a word most people long to hear – and long even more deeply to feel.

To my friends and family who are alone this Valentine’s day, I want you to know I am thinking of you.  I want to share that I honor the difficulty of this day for you, and that I wish I could make it easier somehow.  I want you to know that I love you – and that I mean something when I say those words.

I mean this:  You are dear  and important to me.  I value your presence in my life and am grateful for you.  I appreciate who you are and what you are struggling through.  I see the unique expression of the Divine that you are in the world – and it warms my heart to be with you.  I am sending my love, in the most healing and gentle way I am able.  I am wishing you peace.

To those who have someone to share the word “love” with – and especially those who are graced with many to whom they might speak this word – I invite you to look around you.  Who do you know who needs to hear the word “love” come from a sincere source?  Take the joy and gratitude that fills your heart this Valentine’s Day and share it, not only with those who are close to you – but also with those for whom love is not “easy” at this time.

Say the words “I love you” in a meaningful way and you will bring comfort, and peace.

In the past month or so, I have had three different invitations to participate with circles of friends who are feeling drawn to “gather. “  I received another this morning, which prompted me to consider “why?”

As I look out my door at the scads of leaves that lay, dry and brown, about an inch thick across what would otherwise be my front lawn, I remember the summer, when the trees were full, lush and green. Now, their bones are bare and exposed – and silence replaces the whisper of the wind rushing through dancing foliage.

Remembering moves me to reflect on my own summer adventures, the things I had hoped to invite into my life when the spring was last beginning, and the inner-journey that took place in the wintery time of darkness when 2009 had just been born.

This time of year invites us to consider where we have been, what we have done, and what we have learned through our experiences.  The obvious “end,” whose crunchy sound and fragrance echos under our every step, inspires us to remember the burgeoning earth in its springtime, the sweet fruit of our summer learnings, and the spiraling return to death that is an undeniable finale in this familiar cycle of living.

As fall leads us toward the ebony arms of winter, our final harvest is one of
wisdom – filled memories.  By reflecting, we harvest our passions, our pains, our joys and our sorrows.  We give meaning  and value to what we have experienced.

When the last harvest is complete, we are compelled to share these memories and reflections with each other – the treasures of life that are stories worth telling – and worth hearing!   Our reflections are full and rich and soul-stirring.  They are the culmination of another year-long cycle we are completing.

It is time to gather.

The “Holiday Season” is upon us.  Traditionally, in our modern western world, we gather in large numbers for parties and celebrations.  We work so hard to prepare for what ends up being a short amount of time with those we love, and often, because we are so many gathered in one place, we have little time to share with one another in a heartfelt way.

This year, I suggest something different.  Lets make time for tea.

I suppose you could replace tea with another beverage of your choice – but Tea is something so simple to prepare.  It offers a comfortable elegance that we are missing in our world today.   Its warmth soothes the soul and opens the heart.  Tea can be shared, along with a great conversation, in a single hour or two.   I think gathering for tea is an “old way” that deserves rebirth.

It is time to gather – in a new “old way.”

Over the next few months, I plan to share tea with a few close friends.  I look forward to gathering in intimate circles and weaving our tales of life together in interesting and artful ways. I delight in the anticipation of what I will hear from the hearts of those who are dear to me. Yes, I will make time for tea and for sharing in a deeper way this season.   Won’t you join me?

It is time to gather – to share our stories – and the kettle is on!

My yard is covered in leaves all of the sudden.  Just a few days ago, I was thinking how green the trees were.  Today I am reminded how quickly change comes.

I’ve never been exceptionally fond of change.  I like structure and familiarity.  I value what I have come to know as “reliable.”  Consistency brings me comfort.  Still, in every year, Nature gifts us with a time for “letting go” and reminds us of the importance of change in nourishing the future.

As I watch the leaves scatter, I am aware of the pieces of my life that lay strewn across the canvas of my being at this moment – old friends who have moved on with little or no explanation, dreams and visions that never quite got off the ground, beliefs about life, and love, and relationship, that have been proven inaccurate – aspects of existence that have changed in ways I could not have predicted or prepared for.  All of this lies on the barren ground of my autumnal self, dis-integrating.

It is time to let go.  When fall comes, the trees pull in their sap, calling this source energy back to the roots and base.  They close off the connection from branch to leaf, and allow a “falling away” to occur.  I wonder if the leaf mourns the tree, or the tree grieves the exiting leaf. It looks so simple and easy.  All that is necessary is a gentle breeze to help detach one from the other, it seems.

It is Spirit that provides the breeze I need to make my own separations.  It is the breath of the Divine, arriving in a blustery gust, that sings to me, ” What has been will nourish what is yet to come. Let change happen.”

It is time to de-compose my story about sameness and change.  It is time for a falling away of what must become something else.  A gentle whisper, like the cool wind dancing leafy spirals across my yard, speaks of gratitude and sweet memories, and I feel the deepening.  I call my own life blood back to my roots, pulling from the center of my history, the strength to go within.

All that has been feeds all that I am, composing itself in spring, growing through the summers of my life, and de-composing again in fall to become rich, earthy compost that sustains my next becoming.

What is released is never truly gone.  It simply changes form to serve a greater purpose. Perhaps change is not so bad after all.

Enough is enough.

In the Harvest Season, which runs from mid-summer through much of the fall, there is a lot of discussion about abundance. I am finding myself very resistant to this word. I have so much abundance in my life

-an abundance of dirty clothes to wash
-an abundance of boxes to unpack from our recent move
-an abundance of phone calls to return
-an abundance of writing to complete
-an abundance of “stuff” requiring care

“Abundance” is not a word I am comfortable with right now!

Instead, I have been sitting with the word “enough.” That word feels much better to me. How much is enough? How much food is “enough?” How much money is “enough?” How much time with my children is “enough?” How much “stuff” is enough?” The list goes on.

Assuming “abundance” is “more than enough,” I must be clear about how much is “enough” before I can identify whether or not I have “more” than that! And, of course, to identify “enough” would require that I am able to make a distinction between “need” and “desire.”

Just imagine what it would be like to settle into “enough!”

What if you had:

- enough love.
- enough friendship to savor.
- enough adventure and exploration in your life.
- Enough work to be purpose-full.
- enough food, shelter, clothing, and clean water to feel safe.

Can you feel the sense of satisfaction that “enough” brings? How about the recognition of personal accomplishment, or the feeling of safety that follows recognition of “enough”? In a state of “enough,” it is easy to relax a little.
We can be more discerning about our purchases, our commitments and our time. “Enough” is a catalyst for environmentally sound decision-making, and provides space in one’s life for the state of “Being” rather than “Doing.”

As we move into the fall and winter, we will gradually sink deep into the arms of Morpheus and dream about what brings us happiness and joy. If we understand that we have enough, we can fully enjoy this time. We can read books that feed our souls, drink warm tea, and listen to music that uplifts our hearts. We can take long walks and observe the beauty of the natural world around us. “Enough” is an incredibly powerful calming agent.

Our ancestors went into the winter making sure they had “enough” to get them through till spring. They tallied what they had, determined what they needed, and worked collaboratively to create what was lacking, so that they could rest and feel safe.

So dear reader, here is my challenge to you: While the sun is still high and the days provide the light to see by, take an inventory of your life. Explore the difference between “need” and “desire.” Make yourself a list of the areas in which you have “enough” and commit to spending the next few weeks addressing only those areas where “enough” does not yet exist. Plan to go into the dark time with “enough” – so you can rest and rejuvenate your mind, body and spirit.

Incidentally, “Time” is the gift Spirit offers to those who make friends with “enough.”

Blessed be,

Ahriana

I should probably begin by explaining that there is no way, regardless how many words I use or how eloquent I might be, that I could really share with you the full experience that I had yesterday. Be that as it may, I am compelled to attempt this sharing anyway because the importance of the experience is too big to keep to myself.

Yesterday I had the pleasure of speaking as part of an interfaith panel at Pine Creek High School. Although the panel presentation, in itself, contained unique moments worthy of discussion, it is what happened afterward that affected me so deeply.

As one group of students left the room and another began to enter, the teacher who was preparing to teach the next class approached several of us and invited us to stay. She explained that her class has been studying genocide and that she would be providing a very powerful demonstration she felt we would appreciate.

I was a bit intrigued, but my own children, who did not have school today, were waiting at the sitter’s for me to pick them up, so I graciously asked if I could stay for a few moments and sat by the door so that I could slide out without disturbing anyone when it was time for me to leave.

I intended to stay for ten minutes or so.

The only other person from the panel who stayed was the Rabbi,  a lovely chaplain from the Air Force Academy. He was gracious enough to offer me a closer chair next to him, and, as someone who has come to appreciate any opportunity to get to know folks from other faith traditions more personally, I could not help but accept. It was a very good choice and I am grateful for the Rabbi’s gesture because, without it, I might actually have missed something life changing.

The teacher began by laying out several black sheets on the open floor. The students were instructed to sit around them so they would have a better view. In a very matter-of-fact way, she then explained how she and a colleague had wanted to demonstrate the number of people who had been killed by genocide. After a lot of thought, they came up with an idea. They would buy a bag of rice and count how many grains were in a cup, then multiply the cups to get the correct numbers for various incidents throughout history. She explained that each grain of rice represented one human being and she directed our attention to the giant bins that contained what was needed for the exercise.

To begin, each person in attendance was presented with a handful of rice to hold. “What you have in your hand is about as many grains of rice as there are students in this high school (1500),” she explained. Then the teacher went to the CD player and introduced a haunting melody.

The music played and she began pouring rice on the ebony canvas.

I wish I had taken note of the exact numbers but the piles quickly became so immense that I could feel myself struggling with my emotions. At that moment, my logical mind was trying to wrap itself around a reality I could hardly comprehend.

“1.5 million.”  “150,000.”  “300,000.”   “7 million.”  “Hundreds of thousands in only 100 days.”   The figures were staggering. To actually look at the massive mounds of rice and recognize, in such a visceral way, how many men, women and children had died was almost too much to take in. “Turkey, Germany, Cambodia, Bosnia, Rwanda, and continuing to this very day in Darfur,” she said, as the piles grew and grew. The largest number? Native Americans. “Everything on this sheet -  twice!”

My emotions eventually got the better of me. Tears fell freely as I embraced the severity of what she was demonstrating.

I watched as young women with mascara-lined eyes wiped away the darkened streaks that ran down their cheeks. I observed vibrant young men leaning forward, heads resting into their hands, as if to hold back the thoughts that could not be spoken. This was a lesson they would never forget, and neither will I.

Toward the end, the rice we had been holding was collected. “It is believed” she explained, “that, in our lives, we will each have the chance to influence about as many people as you have grains of rice in your hand.”   We were asked to retain one grain and surrender the rest into a common container.

She paused and asked, “What kind of influence will you be?”

After allowing us a few moments to ponder, she changed the music to something more upbeat. One by one, she brought forth vessels of various sizes and shapes, containing varying amount of rice that represented numbers of individuals who had influenced the world in a positive way. Mother Theresa, – The Survivors of Auschwitz who shared their stories with the world, – The nine Prisoners of War that kept alive the memories of those who had not made it home. There were many examples.

She spoke about how one person could change the world and presented the data necessary to prove her point.

And when she had finished, each student was invited to glue their single grain of rice on a piece of paper and to write what they were feeling.

Slowly a few students came forward, running their fingers through the piles, and contemplating all that had been seen and heard. As they moved to their desks to write, I quietly placed my grain of rice in my pocket, said a soft goodbye to the Rabbi, and took my leave. I had feelings of my own to sort out and children who were waiting for me.

When I arrived home, I reached into my pocket, afraid I might have lost such a small treasure, and gratefully retrieved that single grain of rice. I placed it in a heart-shaped dish on my altar.

So you see, my friends, I could not simply leave it at that, for I too have some influence in the world. I know that I am blessed to have your ear and,  in some cases, your heart, so I must pass along the question that was asked yesterday.

What kind of an influence will you be on the world we share?

Whatever you choose, I hope you will remember how powerful you are and act accordingly.

You are LOVE and you are loved!

Ahriana

Mark and I have just returned from India, where we were part of the International Gathering of Elders. It was quite an amazing experience for many reasons, not the least of which is that is gave me a lot to ponder about the nature of heritage, culture and tradition.

In America, we are a country comprised of people whose ancestry is varied and diverse. Few of us can trace the family tree back more than a few generations and, overall, we have little connection to the countries from which our great, great grandparents originated. While we know ourselves to be, for example, of Italian, English and Dutch heritage, (or whatever combination is appropriate for each individual), these are just words that describe where our ancestors traveled from when they came here. We know very little about these cultures or their respective traditions. Let’s face it – we’re mutts! Most of our spiritual traditions are revivalist in nature and have little to do with where we actually came from.

In meeting people from all over the world, one of the things that Mark and I found interesting was the common thread that our traditions had been interrupted. Whether by war, displacement or persecution, nearly everyone could identify a break in their cultural lineage. Even our Native American friends spoke of the loss of heritage that happened when they were under siege. It seems nearly everyone who attended is still struggling to recover “the old ways.” Some had gone to great lengths to research old folk tales, tattered books and still-standing villages to find a clue about how things used to be.

As I listened, it occurred to me that we might all be suffering from a need to “over-glorify” our ancestors in an effort to have solid roots. Yes, they left us a legacy. Yes, we benefit from the good they did. And (this is a very BIG “AND”) – we are also left with their mistakes. It is our ancestors who “claimed territory”, created hierarchies, marginalized one another, and drew invisible lines on a planet that had none, in order to define the differences between one “country” and another.

I am keenly aware that this “Gathering of Elders” was one in which many of the attendees were struggling to feel “legitimate.” In a time where unity is a common theme amongst spiritual people, we spent a lot of our time in India making comparisons rather than experiencing the “One Tribe” conclave I had hoped for.

I loved the people I met from around the world and truly look forward to crossing paths with them in the future. This is not really about the people – its about authenticity. When we create a sacred circle, where do we place the elements? Do we place them where they actually are in our surrounding area or where we have been taught they should be? Do our symbols come from the world we share, or from history books and pictures of sacred sites? Who are the “ancestors” we call on?

What our ancestors did well is this: They listened to the Earth. She was the original teacher that ALL of our ancestors learned from. The word indigenous was used a lot at this gathering to identify who came from where. We are ALL indigenous, aren’t we? Didn’t we all come from Earth? Is there someone out there who is not from here? (If so, speak up now because we have lots of questions!)

The Earth taught our ancestors. The Universe was the classroom in which the ‘traditions’ were born. She will teach us in the same way, if we just listen. She has always been the teacher and she holds the lessons that are appropriate for this time.

Hello, Dear Friends!

It is Yule, and tonight, friends from far and near will gather in faith that we can survive the longest night.  From this night forward, we will experience a little more sunlight each day, until the Spring arrives in all her colorful glory.

There is much romanticizing about this holiday and how the ancestors celebrated. Lengthy conversations are held about the origins of the Christmas Tree, Gift Giving, and the Jolly Ol’ Elf himself.  I wonder if it might be more important to discuss what these traditions mean in our modern world, where the holiday season can be challenging for so many.

My sweetheart is outside, as I am writing, stringing lights on the Douglas Fir in our yard. We decorate the Evergreen because it is the one living thing that consistently stays green throughout the winter.  We see it as proof that Mother Nature has not abandoned us.  She is simply resting, in preparation for a new season of growth and abundance.   Despite the headlines about unemployment, crime rates and economic decline, the Evergreen reminds us that we have the strength to persevere through the “winter” of our own lives.  It serves as a reminder to have faith.

We hang apples and strings of popcorn as gifts to the animals because it is harder to find food this time of year. It is a way to give back to “that-which-is-wild,” and to remember that we are all interconnected.  As we care for the wild world, we honor our own wildness, the untamable human spirit that tenaciously finds a new way of doing things. This same tenacity delivers us to the doorway of change.

The sparkling ornaments dance and sway, reminding us of the brilliance of our lives.  Each dazzling glint of light opens our imagination, attracting the fairy realm – the devic kingdom – the unseen “spirit” of Nature.   This “spirit of the season” warms us, comforts us and plays in our hearts, allowing us to find a sense of joy.   It is this same “spirit’ that sparks the flame within – the radiant flame that burns brightly in our hearts and lights the path ahead of us.

Tonight, in my home, a small group will gather.  We will exchange gifts, reminding each other that there is always enough.   We will light candles and, as each one ignites, we will share our visions for the future.  We will warm each other with our laughter and our stories, and, together, we will face a new dawn.   The “longest night” will give way to the eternal sun!

You see, these ancient ways are as important today as they were in times gone by.  How they originated is not as important as the fact that they exist.    Our “Winter” is different than the winter faced by our ancestors.  What threatens our survival is different.  Yet, our need for faith, comfort, courage and strength, is the same. “Spirit’ remains the blazing gift that guides us through the darkness into the light.

From my house to yours, a wish for a very blessed Yuletide.  May your fires burn warm and the morning light inspire you.

Blessed be,

Ahriana

Its October 31st, 2008, as I write this, and I am in Chicago where I spent the day as a guest speaker at the Human Empowerment Conference. It has been a sweet and significant day and I am compelled to share it with you!

This is a Hindu event, and I was asked here to participate in the “American Dharma Congress,” a presentation designed to help Hindus explore the possibility that other faith traditions might be “allies in cause.” I spoke, this afternoon, on the topic of “Paganism in America.”

Did I mention how interesting it is that I am here on Halloween? This holiday, whose roots are deeply embedded in the rich soil of the Pagan culture, is a holy-day that invites us to offer gratitude for the gifts of our ancestors, to explore the value of death as a normal and healthy aspect of life, and to understand the importance of endings…and beginnings.

Voices, speaking from five different perspectives, were heard; Romani (Gypsy), Mohawk (Native American), Pagan, Feminist-Yogini, and Hindu.

We spoke about our related wounds, about marginalization and persecution. We spoke about our respective ways of connecting with the Divine in both its masculine and its feminine forms. We spoke about Mother Earth, ecology and sustainable living. We spoke about mysticism, science, and history. We listened and we learned – together.

On this day of endings and beginnings, we asked each other “what has died in order that we can be together in this way, and what will be born from our collaborative sharing?” We were reminded of all that we have to be grateful for in this very moment, which is not the moment of death, nor the moment of birth, but the present “now” that resides between them.

As is always the case for me, when I am blessed to be part of interfaith dialogue, I found myself brought to tears many times throughout the day. It is amazing to delve deeper into the recognition of our similarities. The common ground we discover reassures me that, at some time in our very distant past, we emerged from the same Divine Source – and no matter what path we follow to reconnect with that Source, we are destined to find each other as travel companions along the way!

So, at this very special moment in time, I offer thanks to the ancestors who have given their lives that we might follow our respective paths freely and openly. I am deeply grateful for the doorway that is opening between people of various traditions as a result of our heart-based recognition of each other, and I look forward, with great anticipation, to a future where labels such as Hindu and Pagan are replaced by such references as friend, companion and soul-kin.

On this very special Halloween, I wish you endings and beginnings that awaken you to your true and divine nature – and a few pieces of your favorite candy to sweeten the journey!

Blessed be,

Ahriana

October 3, 2008

Dear Friends,

October has arrived, and along with it, a myriad of magic including Jack-o-Lanterns, Ghouls, Ghosties and Witches. In many cultures, this is the time to celebrate death and honor the ancestors.

When I consider my own ancestry, which is largely European, I am reminded of the “Burning Times” – a period of roughly 400 years in which people accused of practicing certain arts were named “witches” and burned alive.  Many were healers, midwives, herbalist and practitioners of earth-based folk traditions.

Some were women who owned property of value.  Others were individuals whose spirituality was not aligned with those in power.  How did these “witches” become the hook-nosed Halloween hag we see today?

Perhaps the following, written by a 16 year old girl, will give some insight:

The Halloween Witch

Each year they parade her about … the traditional Halloween Witch. Misshapen green face, stringy scraps of hair, and a toothless mouth beneath her disfigured nose. Gnarled, knobby fingers twisted into a claw, protracting from a bent and twisted torso that lurches about on wobbly legs.

Most think this abject image to be the creation of a prejudiced mind, or merely a Halloween caricature. I disagree. I believe this to be how witches were really seen.

Consider that most witches: were women, were abducted in the night, and smuggled into dungeons or prisons under the secrecy of darkness, to be presented by the light of day as a confessed witch.

Few, if any, saw a frightened, normal looking woman being dragged into a secret room filled with instruments of torture. To be questioned until she confessed to anything that was suggested to her, and to give names or whatever would stop the questions.

Crowds saw the aberration denounced to the world as a self-proclaimed witch. As the witch was paraded through the town, en route to be burned, hanged, drowned, stoned, or disposed of in various other “forms of love,”  all created to free and save her soul from her depraved body. The jeering crowds viewed the results of hours of torture.

The face, bruised and broken by countless blows, bore a hue of sickly green. The once warm and loving smile gone -replaced by a grimace of broken teeth and torn gums that leers beneath a battered, disfigured nose. The disheveled hair conceals bleeding gaps of torn scalp from whence cruel hands had torn away the lovely tresses. Broken, twisted hands clutched the wagon for support. Fractured fingers locked like groping claws to steady her broken body. All semblance of humanity gone. This was truly a demon, a bride of Satan, a witch.

I revere this Halloween crone and hold her sacred above all. I honor her courage and listen to her warnings of the dark side of humanity. Each year I shed tears of respect and remember her involuntary sacrifice in the name of religion.

Written by Angel, 6/99

Do you pray for the healing of others?
Do you have family or spiritual traditions you value and practice?
Do you use herbal healing remedies or “mom’s secret cure for a cold?”
Do you own property someone else might wish was theirs?
Have you ever coached a birthing mother or been present to comfort the dying?
Have you ever had a difference of opinion with a neighbor, a friend or a spouse?

If so, by the standards of our ancestors, you might be a Witch.

Something to think about -hmmm?

“Never again the Burning Times!”

Blessed be,
Rev. Ahriana Platten
Director
Colorado Ecospiritual Center
October 3, 2008