The Fire In My Soul

See that all-“bundled up for winter” being, sitting in the snow by a warm outdoor fire?

That be a cartoon ME.

And, the little guy? That be a cartoon of one of my three feral cats who will not let me any closer than in that cartoon -- unless I have food in my hands.

Poor things.

I know not where they live when they are not in my dog house trying to keep warm.

Sue and I have placed a pile of blankets out there for them. So far, so good.

(Animal rights advocates, please know that so far I have not found a safe way to capture these cats and get them spay/neutered. I can’t even get close enough to them in a safe way to know yet whether they be male or female. Capturing feral cats is not a strength of mine. Others who come up here that are adept at cat relationships, such as Sue, haven’t risked it either.)

Personally, I do much better dealing BIG CATS!

(i.e. I could go toe-to-toe with a “having made a decision to recover,” hard core addict or convict (under the right conditions, mind you)

than I can with these little cat guys. Like a lion tamer or exorcist.

One of the rules being mutual agreement to be vulnerable, seeking spiritual transcendence.

Many stories here to tell on this subject.

I just got back in from a shovel-fest with three of my kindly friends who made their way up here into the mountains to help dig my car out of the foot or so of snow that disabled most of us the past few days.

On the way back to the house I stopped at the sacred fire circle on this retreat center’s land where I also live. Buried in snow though it is, I thought, even a few minutes out there would help me some to find my way -- through meditation and contemplation -- to a new level of sanity that I am presently seeking.

I’ve been feeling frustrated to the max lately (particularly since the Arizona shooting a few weeks back.)

The mediocrity of our society – and – worse its potential for, not only subtle violence, but mortal violence is making me a bit crazy.

I know! I know! You feel it too!

On a small scale (under 100 or so folks at a time) I know how to do better, much better.

And, successfully guide vital community transformation.

(Like the ”awe” we, collectively, created at Centennial.)

Right conditions. Right people.

Totally opposite from our local Jewish/Muslim controversy. Almost everything wrong there for me. Many lessons. Win or learn. Name of the game.)

Before blindness the word was out around me that if “she (meaning me --- Marcia/Anastasia) can’t cure ‘em, nobody can.” 

I liked that skillfulness in me that came by way of the wonderful mentors I’ve had.

The old New Horizons Truth Or Dare Game is top of the line -- my best way to help.

And, it’s as viable now, I am coming to realize, as it was back then.

Now I know (I didn’t even a few days ago) that I want to go back to that old New Horizons Game (in a new way, of course). I miss that old part of me.

And, that old part of my life. Sometimes, we just need to go “home.” But – in a new way for the evolved me – and – the new conditions of our present circumstances (i.e. massive polarization throughout our country while at the same time we try to fight terrorism from outside forces.)

How dumb can you be?

Fighting inside your professed “zones of peace” when externally your very boundaries are threatened.

(Mental health problems are another issue here. But not unrelated.)

Yesterday the hunger for a neglected part of me – Game Master of the New Horizons Truth or Dare program) -- burst forth.

This is the me that knows the gratification -- actually the awe -- of community connectedness and synergy at its most supreme.

Exceptional people. Creating exceptional communities.

I am sooooo frustrated!

I do not know how to get from here to there so I can contribute my small part.

So, yesterday and today, I started sharing my burning frustrations and yearnings with a few friends.

You know what it got me?

Three caring, generous friends to help dig my snow buried car out from under.

Isn't that the cat's meow!

Tomorrow, perhaps, we chop wood. Carry water.

I’ll keep you posted.

Thanks, Jami, Micki and husband.