Archive for August, 2006

“American Tune” by Paul Simon

August 30, 2006

Words & music by Paul Simon

Many’s the time I’ve been mistaken
And many times confused
Yes, and I’ve often felt forsaken
And certainly misused
Oh, but I’m alright, I’m alright
I’m just weary to my bones
Still, you don’t expect to be
Bright and bon vivant
So far a-way from home, so far away from home

And I don’t know a soul who’s not been battered
I don’t have a friend who feels at ease
I don’t know a dream that’s not been shattered
or driven to its knees
but it’s alright, it’s alright
for we lived so well so long
Still, when I think of the
road we’re traveling on
I wonder what’s gone wrong
I can’t help it, I wonder what has gone wrong

And I dreamed I was dying
I dreamed that my soul rose unexpectedly
And looking back down at me
Smiled reassuringly
And I dreamed I was flying
And high up above my eyes could clearly see
The Statue of Liberty
Sailing away to sea
And I dreamed I was flying

We come on the ship they call the Mayflower
We come on the ship that sailed the moon
We come in the age’s most uncertain hours
and sing an American tune
Oh, and it’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright
You can’t be forever blessed
Still, tomorrow’s going to be another working day
And I’m trying to get some rest
That’s all I’m trying to get some rest


Living As If We Aren’t Afraid of Dying

August 29, 2006

I got truth tears when I was wondering why I’m cranky today. I’m dying.

Leaving the US for the first time, on a prayer and a promise, I will never be the same when I return. True, we’re not even the same from one minute to the next, but Pluto/Sun/Midheaven/GC?  It’s not every day we get to die so thoroughly, is it?

I read Eric Francis’ blog today. He talks about night, Pluto and death.

“Also, death looming around every corner is a distraction from living. So part of the message is that we need to live like we’re not afraid of death. I guess if you want a definition of Spiritual that I could get with, that would be one,” he writes.

I’m packing. I’m taking 2 suitcases. It feels like a lot. I generally travel very light. An overnight bag will do me for 2 weeks. But this is at least 2 months, maybe a year, maybe 2 years. And I have to take books to write my paper after the class.

I’m a little weepy. In 2 hours some friends arrive to ferry my across the River… no wait a minute… to take my things to a friend’s basement for storage.

I don’t even leave until Friday morning.

Mantra: “I love limbo. I love limbo. I love limbo.”

So, thank you for the death blog, Eric.   🙂  I suppose if I was afraid of dying I wouldn’t do it so often.



Spiraling Out to Ireland

August 26, 2006

Spirals are a heady thing.

I once sat in Steven’s bathroom after doing The Work of Byron Katie with him for an hour or so, and stared at his bathmat which is covered with spirals. “Like, wow man.” was about all I could think of. I was high and you all know I quit drugs in 1985.

I’d say more about Steven, but just go read, particularly the Anti-Guru Blog, and you will see why I refrained.

A few years later, I met Cricket, who wears a modernized triskele necklace that he never takes off. Then I saw the pictures of the triple spiral (triskele) at New Grange, County Meath, Ireland. (Link below.)

I’ve been subscribed to the list since Atlanta where their whole message is gratitude symbolized by a green spiraling letter “g.”

Eventually, I had the fateful conversation with Loretta where she asked, “Have you ever studied Celtic Spirituality?” and I did a web search, which turned up a class on “Celtic Spirituality and Modern Cosmology” at Wisdom University where I was already enrolled.

My father has given me money for tuition and even more to help with lodging. Can you imagine how much that means to me?  

Ramone bought my ticket with frequent flyer miles and I worked for him doing organizing and consulting on his customer service workshop, as well as a little editing and exercise suggestions for his new book, “Enjoy the Hell Out of Your Life.” (You can find it on Amazon. It’s good.)

Audrey took me in to organize her home in exchange for rent. We’ve reached that point where sometimes we don’t need to speak or we speak in unison. And if you hear either of us say “probably” in the other’s presence, it’s followed by peals of laughter. She’s like a sister to me and people keep asking if we are.

The job at Gaiam ended, a bit of a jolt, since that was how I was going to pay for this trip, but as my co-worker, Erica, a genius in disguise, said, “Maybe you weren’t meant to work in customer service. Maybe you have more to give.” (something like that)  So I applied the Quantum Wealth work to Clutter Clearing and made some money this summer.

Still, some of you are patiently waiting for me to repay money that I owe you at a faster rate than $5/month.

Lorelei, who supported me with counsel and a car, may she be thrice blessed, urges me to teach young people in any form, just teach. She says, “You’re dying. You have to teach” in the spirit of a favorite Gospel of Thomas quote that I “happened” to open to just now:

“If you bring forth what is within you,

what you bring forth will save you.

If you do not bring forth what is within you,

what you do not bring forth will destroy you.”

This evening, a man I have never met, a friend of Steven’s, agreed to store my few remaining belongings for the duration of the trip, up to a year, in the basement of his new home nearby. (I do need help getting it over there, possibly Sunday evening, are you free? Do you have a truck?)

Tonight I sit with my roommate, Audrey, listening to having just received news today that my friend, Mary, will buy my car for the asking price in order to support me & my trip to Ireland. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

The internet radio is playing “Irish Washerwoman.” Synchronicities abound. I had just picked up “The Spiral of Memory and Belonging” by Frank MacEowen, with a foreword by Patricia Monaghan, author of “The Red Headed Girl from the Bog.” (Lorraine calls me “the red headed girl with the blog.” )

Elise, I would have loved to go singing and dancing with you. I eventually did half an hour of breathwork and got a second wind, so here I sit, about to go to bed, reeling from the Grace and I-don’t-know-what-to-call-it, the mystery of how this is all working out.

People responded when I was despairing of paying the remainder of my loging costs.

I want to mention every one of you by name and thank you for all the specifics, but this email would be a mile long.

Do you want to see the triple spiral?

Go to According to Monaghan, double spirals exist in many places, triple spirals at Newgrange only. (I have not double checked that, but it’s poetic.)

How on Earth do I tell you thank you enough? How do I bring back even a taste of what this already means to me? Even if I never set foot on Irish soil, this has been one of the most amazing journeys of my life.

It looks like I’m going to Ireland. Why? I don’t know.

Slan abhaile. They tell me it means, “safe journey, safe harbour.”



The Work We Do

August 25, 2006

We know each other some through the work we do. It’s not as superficial as it seems. Whether we spend 4 hours a week or 40 hours a week and even more doing some kind of “work,” what that work is tells something about who we are and what is important to us, even if we’re pulling shots at Starbucks.

I’m working through some major shifts from working to having a career. I’ve been in the throes of this since I took my first Rebirthing BreathWork training in 1985.

21 years ago it was clear to me that I wanted to teach. Wait, make that 41 years ago. I was 5 years old when I walked purposefully to my mother’s bedroom door and said, “Mommy, I want to be a teacher.” Damn. What’s taking me so long?

It’s not that I haven’t taught. I have and I do. It’s like breathing to me. I can’t help it. It just happens.

That reminds me that an ex-lover asked me, in about 1993 or so during my Neurolinguistic Programming certification, another attempt to find a forum in which to teach, “Stacy, what would you do if there was no one to teach or to heal?” Without hesitation, I told him I would sing and dance in musicals. I’ve done a little bit of that, too. I could use some training, though. I just play at it.

It’s all related.

I’m a minister, really. Singing and dancing were original forms of worship, celebration and teaching, but don’t tell the Baptists that. Sex leads to dancing you know. Or is it the other way around? I forget.

Anyway, I’m leaving Boulder, Colorado for Ireland next Friday for a course on “Celtic Spirituality and Modern Cosmology” as part of a doctorate in ministry.

Now, before you join the throngs of people who tell me I don’t need another degree, let me tell you that I love school. I dream of meeting a man whose ideal weekend date is going to intimate spiritual workshops. I love school. Some people paint, some people write poetry, I do school. It’s a natural talent I enjoy immensely.

I’ve co-authored one book. I’m working on at least 3 others. They are all sexual in nature. They have not been easy to write. I’ve been at one of them for 5 or 6 years now, and I know this is par for the course for many authors. I have counseled individuals and groups.

Somehow I pay most of the bills, usually. Often at a customer service job, but those keep falling through for reasons that are not personal at all. Do ya think the Universe might be trying to tell me something?

I was meditating, that’s a morning ritual for me, and talking in my mind to Mother Meera this morning. I am going to Denver for darshan with her tonight. I was asking about all of this. About my trip, my career, my finances.

What I am writing here is part of the result.

When I was 5, I thought I’d teach school. I loved my teachers. I was good at school. I make A’s like rolling off a log.

By the time I graduated from high school just before my 17th birthday, in December of 1976, I was going for an accounting degree with a thought of being a corporate lawer. Why? Daddy wanted his own attorney.

That was a sidetrack for sure. But 9 years later, after starting into counseling for incest for the first time in 1985, I was back on track and hoping to teach rebirthing. I did. I’ve taught a lot of things and earned a BA in research psychology and an MA in counseling psychology. The doctorate in ministry is more where my heart is and my university calls its faculty “Mystics without Monasteries.”  Wisdom University,

I still don’t know what to do or where or how exactly, but I’ve got a helluva a lot of pieces of the puzzle.

Who are you and what are you about?

I’d really love to hear and learn from whatever you have to say about how you are working in the world and what you are bringing your awareness to.

“Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?”


“Still today, I am lonely, because I know – and must speak of – things that others do not know . . . and for the most part by no means wish to know.”     

                                        – C.G. Jung

To Planet or Not to Planet?

August 21, 2006

Hi All,

The International Astronomical Union, a body that names and defines planets, among other things, is meeting this month. Apparently, they will revisit the issue of whether Pluto is a planet or not, and whether or not 3 newly discovered bodies qualify as planets. If everybody gets to be a planet, this gives us 12, one for each astrological sign, plus a whole lot more issues, since there are over a quarter of a million things floating around out there to be classified.

Their web site is

After reading Eric Francis’ lively post at (It’s intense. Scroll down a little on his page to today’s entry) I sent the following note to a couple of Internet astrologers. I value his opinion and I can see what he is saying. Jonathan Cainer comments a little, but is more circumspect at

A few of you are astrologers, too, or follow astrology, so I thought I would share this idea and see what y’all think.

Please click Comment below if you have some ideas about this so everyone can share.

I appreciate that the issue of what is and isn’t a planet does change the tools an astrologer such as yourself will use to interpret the macrocosm, but truly, don’t they all work just fine? From bibliomancy to numerology to tarot to astrology, aren’t they all mostly tools we use to see the forest for the trees?

No matter what is or isn’t a planet your insights and intuitions will continue to work and to guide us just fine.


Church, the Labyrinth, Homesickness & Other Musings

August 3, 2006

I don’t know which thought came first.

I’m at a coffee shop in Lafayette, near my most recent home, from which I am soon to move. Again, another home may not be here when I get back. My roommate has interviewed for a job that would move her near her other home, the one she will retire to. My last roommate may sell his house. The one before that may be planted for life. The one before that moved to California. I had no roommate in the next one back. And the one before that? Well, both roommates there have moved on.

I moved out of my parent’s home when I was 16 and within a year, my mother had, with unquestionably good reason, divorced my father, and there was no home to return to. The song, “Silent Night,” not the Christmas carol, but the one by Uncle Bonsai, is playing in my mind now. Even if I were on MySpace writing this, that one probably isn’t in the repertoire. I was browsing last week and discovered they’d disbanded. 

It never fails to make me cry.

Silent Night

My father’s house
Was warm at night
He used to sing me lullabies
Just like his father before him always did
Just like his mother would have done
If she had lived
My father’s house
Was safe at night
He used to sleep just down the hall
Just like his father before him always would
When he was old
When times were good
He found the time
He found a way
Piece by piece
Day by day

(Oh you look so pretty
Don’t forget to say your prayers
I will rock you ’til you’re sleeping
And I’ll carry you upstairs
And I’ll see you in the morning
I’ll see you in your dreams
I will always be here when you need me)

Silent night, holy night
I left a light on in the hallway
All is warm, all is bright
I keep my visions in my hand
Silent night, holy night
Life goes on beyond my eyelids
All is safe, out of sight

I was away at school
The night I heard the news
That I was all alone
From a stranger’s voice
On the hallway phone
She had to call collect
And mispronounced my name
And said that I should be there
On the morning train
There was no one to meet me
And no one to take me home

Silent night, holy night
I left a light on in the hallway
All is warm, all is bright
I keep my visions in my hand
Silent night, holy night
Life goes on beyond my eyelids
All is safe, out of sight

My father’s house
Is still at night
I hear the silence in the walls
I hear the footsteps in the halls
Just like the child inside me used to do
When she was scared and wide awake
She had the room to keep her warm
Safe from fears, safe from harm

Silent night, holy night
I left a light on in the hallway
All is warm, all is bright
I keep my visions in my hand
Silent night, holy night
Life goes on beyond my eyelids
All is safe, out of sight

I notice that I have started feeling advance homesickness. I go to a coffee shop, drive down a Boulder street, meet a friend for coffee, and I wonder how long it will be before I see them again. I tear up. “My name is Stacy and I cry.”

Yesterday, Audrey and I walked a labyrinth at St. John’s Episcopal Church on Pine in Boulder (near 14th if you’re looking). It’s outdoors, right by the street, in wonderful pink sandstone. There is a triskele at the farthest point of the outer circle, which is made up of stones that are engraved with one thing and another.

That labyrinth is a small replica of the one at the Chartres Cathedral in France. I want to go to the Wisdom University intensives there. Oh, there’s a small fly in that ointment! I read on our school Yahoo group that Marianne Williamson will not be invited back to teach. Damn. She was one of my reasons for wanting to go. What about Carolyn Myss, I wonder. I have written to ask if the sender has any more details.

I sat down to write about church. I had the thought that I want to go to church on Sunday. Not the brunch church I usually go to, although I’ll go to that, too.

I think I know what is going on. I’m at Java Java and they are playing music from the 70’s. I was a teenager then. Some of this is awfully nostalgic stuff! Chicago’s “Color My World,” Linda Ronstadt’s “That’ll Be the Day,” some of it is Motown. I don’t know the singers, but I know most of the lyrics. Okay, all the lyrics. *sigh*

And I get teary eyed about it all.

I think I’ll go to church on Sunday, but it won’t be University Christian Church in Fort Worth, Texas in the 70’s with Dr. Granville Walker, Senior Minister, pulpit.

Mother says I hate change. She’s right. As much as she loves it, I want things to be comfortable and familiar. If they aren’t, then I get them that way.


*deep breath*