Category Archives: Enlightenment

Source Lends A Hand

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Figment © Angi Sullins & Silas Toball www.duirwaigh.com

Last night in the middle of my usual sleep-challenged state, I saw SMITHSONIAN in big black letters, all caps, on a white background. I had no idea what this meant, but I knew it wasn’t a fragment of a dream because this wasn’t the first time I’d received a nocturnal message consisting of nothing but a few numbers or letters. But it was the first time information came through directly in response to a request.

Inspired by Elizabeth Gilbert, author of the breakaway international bestseller Eat, Pray, Love, I’d asked Source for help sorting out my ideas for various creative projects. In her TEDTalk last year on nurturing creativity, Gilbert tells us how she challenged God when she “fell into a pit of despair” in the middle of writing her book.

“Listen you,” she said (and I’m paraphrasing here). “I don’t have any more than this. If you want this book to be better, you’re going to have to show up and do your part of the deal.” Well, I guess he did!

So the first chance I got the next morning, I Googled Smithsonian. Skipping past links to the museums (I just wasn’t ‘feeling’ it), I hit the link to the online magazine and within two minutes I found something I didn’t even know I was looking for: an interview with author Mary Collins about her new book on Amercia’s sedentary culture. This helped me in two ways: #1) it provided me with additional material for a post about the joy of movement that’s been marinating in my head for weeks; and #2) it helped me focus my attention on this particular subject and move it to the top of my list.

I’m not sure what’s at work here. But I don’t think we’re meant to tromp through life alone banging our heads repeatedly against the wall until we ‘get it’. As Gilbert and so many writers, artists, and musicians before her have discovered, help is available from the Divine if we just ask for it. The trick is recognizing the answer when it shows up and then knowing what to do with it.

 

Extraordinary Occurrences in Ordinary Reality

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©2010 Charlene Nevill

©2010 Charlene Nevill

A few weeks after I returned from Greece, I found a box of books in front of my house. Now this in itself isn’t unusual; people dump clothes, food (remember the artichokes?), computers, furniture and all manner of unmentionables on the sidewalks in my neighborhood on a daily basis. But this box was directly in front of my house. And inside I found the following: seven of Carlos Castaneda’s twelve books; the Individual Reference File of Extracts From the Edgar Cayce Readings; The Art & Practice of Caballa Magic; The Magic of Incense, Oils & Brews: A Guide to their Preparation and Use; Beyond Hypnosis: A Program for Developing Your Psychic & Healing Powers; and Communion: A True Story (in which award-winning author Whitley Strieber describes his abduction by aliens).

What are the chances? Shaminism . . . Psychic readings . . . Magic . . . Aliens . . . It was as if the Universe had gathered up all the knowledge I was meant to absorb at this moment in time and placed it in my hands. At least that was my first thought. But after reading up on Castaneda and looking over each of the other books, I’m not so sure.

Years ago, I read two or three of Castaneda’s books about his training in traditional shamanism with don Juan Matus, an old Yaqui Indian. At the time, I was vaguely aware that there were questions about the authenticity of his experiences, but I had no idea the extent of the controversy nor that don Juan probably didn’t exist.

In 1973 after the publication of his first three books, Time published an article, Don Juan and the Sorcerer’s Apprentice, which called attention to inconsistencies in Castaneda’s background. And in an exhaustive article that appeared on salon.com in 2007, The dark legacy of Carlos Castaneda, Robert Marshall calls Castaneda ” . . . the 20th century’s most successful literary trickster . . . ” and exposes a lifestyle that can only be described as a cult.

Shortly after the Time article appeared, Castanda disappeared from public view. Inspired by L. Rob Hubbard’s Scientology, he developed a movement he called Tensegrity, a kind of “Kung Fu Sorcery” supposedly based on a group of movements passed down by Toltec shamans. Three main female devotees known as ‘the Witches’ who were required to break off all ties with family and friends, were used to recruit new members – specifically “women with a combination of brains, beauty and vulnerability” –  into the ‘family’. After Castaneda passed into the great unknown ten years later, the remains of one of the Witches was found in the desert and the other two disappeared but were presumed to have committed suicide.

Despite criticism of Castaneda’s writings, he’s been acknowledged by such luminaries as George Lucas and Deepak Chopra for inviting readers to examine the nature of reality and for opening the doors to perception. And even after academia discredited Castaneda, his editor, Michael Korda, insisted on the authenticity of his experiences, and Simon & Schuster still classify his books as nonfiction.

In his article Shamanic Personal Transformation, shamanistic practitioner Hank Wesselman talks about the trap of equating ‘ideas’ about the nature of reality with true, face-to-face encounters with transpersonal forces in the deep psychic and subtle realms. He also points out the importance of intention. ” . . . as you do journey work and start to enter into relationship with transpersonal forces . . . are you seeking connection to ‘get something’ material? Or are you doing work from a place of service for the highest good for yourself, those around you and those you are connecting with?”

I can’t help but question Castaneda’s actual experiences in the realms of nonordinary reality. Were they nothing more than imaginings fueled by psychotropic drugs? According to author Amy Wallace, one of Castaneda’s numerous lovers, “He became more and more hypnotized by his own reveries. I firmly believe Carlos brainwashed himself.”

And what of his intentions? It seems clear that his editor and publisher were intent on one thing only, and that was to keep the money machine going. And if, as Wallace contends, Castaneda had lost touch with reality we can assume he also lost his ability to control it.

So I’m left wondering about the reappearance of Castaneda in my life. As one who has always been a tad too trusting, for the first time in my life I’m looking at things with a more critical eye. You might even say I’m becoming a bit of a skeptic. And it’s with this new perspective that I intend to revisit Edgar Cayce and to examine the other offerings from my mysterious benefactor.

 

Once in a Blue Moon

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Blue Moon © Josephine Wall

Blue Moon © Josephine Wall

For those of you who have been too busy with the Holidays to pay attention to the celestial cycles, I want you know that there’s a full moon tomorrow night and it’s very special. Because it’s the second one this month, it’s a BLUE MOON! But that’s not all . . . it’s also the last full moon of the decade and it falls on New Year’s Eve for the first time in twenty years.

Astrologer extraordinaire, Jonathan Cainer, tells us that there’s something about this particular confluence of heavenly events that loosens our inhibitions, and he advises that this is a good time to think ‘outside the box’. “Imagine what you wouldn’t normally dare to imagine. Hope for what might usually seem way too far-fetched.”

Donna Henes, urban shaman, ceremonialist, and author of The Moon Watcher’s Companion, proposes that we welcome the new decade with a lunar ritual: “A True Blue Ceremony in the Spirit of Universal Beneficence.” As with the breathing in the moon ritual, Henes tells us to close our eyes, sit very still and breath in great draghts of air. If we sigh deeply and open our hearts, we can perhaps feel the presence and the power of something bigger than ourselves and begin to remember our connection not only to the moon and her cycles but to every living thing on the planet.

Whether you choose to celebrate New Year’s Eve with the traditional champagne and fireworks or with a new ritual, may we all enter this next decade together with greater awareness as responsible, empowered participants in what Henes calls the connective universal plan. And yes, Jonathan, it’s time to think outside the box and dare to hope for and imagine a decade of peace.

 

Farewell to Delphi

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“We learn by going where we have to go; we arrive when we find ourselves on the road walking toward us.” – Phil Cousineau, The Art of Pilgrimage

On my last day in Delphi, I found myself back at the Gymnasium sitting at the foot of the ancient olive tree absorbing every last bit of sun as I gazed at the hills below. Despite the resistance I felt before I left on this journey and all along the way, I knew I would miss this sacred place. My first sight of the steep forboding cliffs rising above the Sanctuary, my visceral interactions with the Omphalos, and my vision of Delphi bathed in golden light will remain with me forever. And I’m feeling boundless gratitude for the luxury of just ‘being’ for that period of time with no distractions or obligations.

Pandora by John William Waterhouse, 1896

Pandora by John William Waterhouse, 1896

This adventure started with a serendipitous discovery of the Pythia and grew into an obsession to experience firsthand the world of ancient Delphi. I realized that my desire to ‘feel’ any kind of connection or to garner information about my past here might require some sort of a transformative experience. And while I found the idea of a flash of insight exciting, I didn’t really think I was ready for a total paradigm shift.

Since my return, I’ve wondered if my beliefs limited what I was able to experience. In my deep soul writing, Source has indicated repeatedly that information would be revealed when I’m ready for it. I left home with one question and came back with dozens more. And like Pandora, having opened the proverbial box (which I have learned was actually a jar), all I’m left with is hope – hope that some day I will come to know if it’s possible to connect with aspects of ourselves from previous lifetimes and whether knowing our past serves us in the present.

 


The Longest Day

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Galaxidi Town Square ©2009 Charlene Nevill

Galaxidi Town Square ©2009 Charlene Nevill

When I told Socrates, my seatmate on the flight from London to Athens, that I was spending FIVE days in Delphi he was aghast. I explained that it was really only 4-1/2, but he refused to hear me. Having grown up in Livadeia, a small town between Delphi and Greece, Socrates had spent a lot of time in Delphi over the years, but never five days in a row. He assured me that I would be bored out of my mind after two days and suggested I take a day trip to Galaxidi, a village on the Gulf of Corinth below Delphi.

I was beginning to think a ‘day off’ might be a good idea. I’d visited the Sanctuary several times, I’d toured the museum, and I’d walked up, down and around every street in Delphi. Still reeling from my latest conversation with Source, I thought a day away might offer some perspective. And even though I had no great desire to see Galaxidi, visions of a stroll along the waterfront and lunch at a seaside cafe were playing around in my mind. But I wasn’t ‘feeling’ it. And instead of listening to my instincts, I listened to Socrates and made the trip anyway.

Nothing really horrible happened that day. But from the moment I arrived at the bus station that morning, I had a nagging feeling that this trip was not a good idea. And there were signs all along the way telling me it was a mistake. I needed to purchase a ticket but the bus station was closed. It finally opened just before the bus was due to arrive, but then the bus was 20 minutes late. A trip that would take 20 minutes by car took an hour and a half by bus, because we had to transfer in another town and wait another 30 minutes for the next bus. When I finally arrived in Galaxidi, I was famished. I found several restaurants along a small cove that vaguely matched the visions I’d been entertaining, but none were serving lunch. In desperation and after much gesticulating, I finally found one that agreed to serve something other than coffee.

As I sat alone waiting for my lunch, I thought of my college friend Patty. After graduating with a double major in French and German, Patty moved to Germany to teach English. I never really understood what happened, but one day after she’d been gone for a few months, I got a call from her mother telling me that Patty was back; she’d had a nervous breakdown and was in the hospital. I was in shock. Patty was not only beautiful and intelligent, but she was the happiest, most joyful person I knew. At the time I thought, if this could happen to Patty, it could happen to me. Now all these years later, I understood what had happened. She was away from home living in a foreign country for the first time. She was alone and she felt totally isolated. And that’s exactly how I felt as I sat there alone eating my Greek salad and drinking my white wine.

After I finished my lunch, I had another hour before the bus was due for Delphi. Sitting in the town square listening to the leaves fluttering in the breeze, I realized that there really was no reason for me to be here. I’d come to Greece for one reason only: to connect with my past. And I knew with certainty that I had no past in Galaxidi.

When I finally arrived back in my little room in Delphi that afternoon, I felt like I’d come home. And then as if on cue, I heard bells. I ran to my balcony and there right below me was a parade of GOATS! It was almost too much to be believed. There were black goats and brown goats, white goats with brown spots, baby goats, billy goats, goats with great curled horns, goats with beards, goats of all kinds and sizes, and they kept coming – walking, running, leaping and bleating with bells clanging. My wish had been granted. Perhaps there was a lesson here. Or maybe two. Number one: don’t be afraid to ask for what you want. And number two: listen to THE VOICE and follow it.

Goats in Delphi ©2009 Charlene Nevill

Goats in Delphi ©2009 Charlene Nevill