mermaidcamp
Keeping current in wellness, in and out of the water
You can scroll the shelf using ← and → keys
Wild West Gunslinging
April 16, 2013
Today (April 16) in 1881 In Dodge City, Kansas, Bat Masterson fights his last gun battle. He is fined $8:00.
Guns and power are the entire subject of the cowboy and Indian movie genre. In my youth the entertainment was all about John Wayne and his ilk being in WWII with explosives, guns, and drama, or being in the Wild Wild West with the same scenario. My dad grew up in rural Kansas and Oklahoma, where guns were used for hunting, but he did not hunt because he had poor eyesight. He developed a love for fishing, which did not require keen sight. I personally learned to shoot a rifle when I was about 4 and my parents left me for a stay in Arkansas at my grandparents’ farm. I remember being very fond of it and liking it when my grandpa called me Annie Oakley. I thought target pracice was romantic and cool.
There were no guns in my house, so after my early youth I rarely saw anyone use guns anywhere. The first night I slept in Caracas when I was 13 I saw a murder from my hotel room on about the 10th floor of the Tamanaco. I freaked out entirely because there was lots of blood on the white shirt of the victim. The following day we learned that two hotel guards had shot each other, and that was the whole thing. Armed guards patrolled the petroleum company compound where I lived in rural Venezuela, which kind of resembled a military base. I thought nothing of it. Although I lived in Texas during high school, I still knew nobody who owned or shot guns.
The gun violence debate in the country is alien to my thinking. I am not comforted by the presence of guns. I don’t care to own or shoot one. The citizens who feel so strongly one way or the other about guns are starting to go haywire. The debate itself is getting scary.
Intuition, Archetypes, Ancestors
December 15, 2012
Historical enemies, sagas of war, and the tragic impact violent thoughts have on society today are harsh reminders of human disorder. We can not look back to find a perfect time in history or a completely noble story of our ancestors’ survival. The mixed bag has always existed, known and unknown, true and false. When evil rocks the world we are all quick to isolate culprits and round up perps in our own minds. It does not matter which demon we blame, even if we never mention it out loud. The very act of deciding who is to blame will be a process to eliminate knowledge of one’s own part in building a more hateful world. The question of the moment is “Who started this?”, but we all know intuitively the answer to that eternal question.
The prostitute archetype in each of our dramas will test and be tested to discover ethics and limits. The question will be answered in this lifetime about how blind you are to others in order to enhance your own comfort. This story will star your prostitute archetype. Your storyboard will be repeated in different costumes and sets until the line has been firmly established between your soul and what you are willing to do for physical comfort. You may find it is an opera one time and a comedy the next, but if you look back you can identify the segments like vignettes on the Twilight Zone. You created and produced these stories to find your limits. Your own unconscious mind has written, directed, and been in charge of casting the stars. There are sometimes entire decades of reruns. I feel that our nation has been rerunning an unfortunate version of our best selves with less than admirable results.
Navigating Backwards
December 9, 2012
— 4 Comments
sunken treasure of dreamsStudying one’s ancestry one learns history once and for all. Any abstracts become clear when you chart your own pedigree. Any dates memorized come to life when you find out what your own ancestors were doing at those times. I am always a big proponent of being present in the moment, but historical knowledge helps me appreciate the present. The belief in intuition is enhanced when the timeless soul is given room to move. Calendars and clocks are maps of time that match the heavens in a very precise way. The full meaning of the heavens is impossible to capture in a clock. If you can view your life from a higher place time is less relevant than it appears to be in your rear view mirror. Meditation is the path to truth beyond time.
I am all the way a navigator. I have flown many miles in private planes navigating from the air, do very well with driving, or public transportation. Reading maps and finding different kinds of maps has always been a fascination for me. Historical maps and charts of the heavens are of particular interest. I am learning with precision how to navigate backwards by means of the family tree. My study of Sacred Contracts teaches me to align with time in a much broader spiritual sense.
Memory and dreams reconstruct time as well as facts. Often by repeating a story that is highly revised and edited for the ego’s best light we create a strong reality that never existed or has a chance of being true in real time. Our poetic dreamy visions of ourselves and others are the pageant we produce in order to learn our life lessons. Each one of us produces and directs the archetypal dramas in which we live. We act in the dramas of others, as do they in ours, but we only witness tiny segments of other people’s story. In dreams we only see faces we have seen in our waking lives. In dreams we deconstruct and revise the archetypes and their roles in our own big picture.
Looking at the symbolic as well as the scientific meaning of the past I see above and below are forever linked just as the past and the future. They have no meaning without their partners, like the border crossers and the migra. Our lessons are repeated in time, but are not done in a logical worldly sequence. If we believe in divine order it would be wise to honor and make some contact with it. In this way we can avoid swimming against the current , struggling to arrive in a place we have already been. Deep meaning is found by reading the treasure maps in our dreams.
mermaidcamp 