Reflections, Visions

Whale Song…

Today, during my meditation, I heard the song of whales somewhere far from me.  The sound so melancholy, with sorrow lining every lengthened tone.  And yet there was a sweetness to the song that touched me deeply, too, as though even in their suffering they found something that seemed worthwhile…

The notes appealed to my bat technology, bringing peace with every tear I cried in empathy.  And I knew bliss in a whole new way.  For this was not the manic excitement, the barely contained joy demanding release, but a quiet sense of something “right” not all that far from me…

And even now the voices sing, echoing deep within my mind, flooding me with blessed relief.  It was (and is) what I often refer to as a “perfect moment,” and it strengthened me.  I sense the sound, feel it in every fiber of my being, and know that it will serve as armor as I step out to face the world today…

It is worth savoring…

And so I choose to share it, too, with those who need a perfect moment as much as I do.  I’m sharing it with you…

Peace, my friends, and blessings too.  May today bring to you exactly what you need to carry on…  😀


When the journey seems futile…

I know I’m not alone in feeling this way, as though all of my efforts have failed.  As though every single thing I have attempted to accomplish in my life has fallen short; it simply isn’t enough to get the job done.  As though my very tenacity and determination to continue are some sort of cosmic joke being played upon me and my psyche.  Like failure itself was written into my karma and destiny…

And when that feeling overwhelms me, and I am convinced I simply cannot try anymore, when everything within me seeks shelter from the never-ending storm, I crawl into bed and cry myself to sleep.  Hoping, and sometimes praying, that this journey will soon end for me…

But I wake up again.  Always.  Disappointed.  Discouraged.  Angry, even, at why this life won’t let me go!  And then…

Some time during that hopeless day, some thing will happen to get me back on track again.  It may be huge, or it may be some small thing, but I will smile in spite of my mood, I will laugh through the never-ending tears, and I will pick up my tools again and carry on…


Because I must…  A simple, but (for me, anyway) undeniable Truth…

Life sucks right now!  People (many) suck right now!  Innocents are dying, but most are suffering horribly first, which makes it so much worse!  Innocence itself cannot survive in the world we have created.  There is no light at the end of the tunnel, for darkness has taken hold of everything we see.  There is no savior coming for us to finally set us free.  There is no justice to be had, and nothing now is fair.  There is no hope in this reality.  And yet…

There are good people doing good things.  There are moments when we can feel alive again.  There is something we cannot see, compelling us to carry on.  For good or ill, we “keep on keeping on” (a favorite phrase of a blogging friend of mine).


I have a theory (of course I do!  Lol!), but I offer it today with a full awareness of how “wrong” it may be.  I seem to be operating blind these days, as previous posts have discussed.  All my life I have been blessed with insight that allows me to discern the “truth” of things, quite accurately.  I have become so dependent upon that ability that I do not question it anymore, which has proven itself to be a grave mistake of late.  Because these days, I am never right.  Big or small, important or not, the things that seem so clear to me have been proven false, and so I am completely out of the loop these days regarding peoples’ thoughts, actions, motivations or expectations.  It’s an uncomfortable place for me to be…

And when the blindness is complete, as it seems to be these days, I have always relied on sonar to see me through, affectionately referred to as “bat technology.”  I listen, carefully, and use what I hear to guide my next steps.  But my use of this technique is more tentative than the other, and so easily led astray by louder noises…

So I welcome the Silence when it arrives, even momentarily.  I notice when the noise abates, and there is only my own breath in my ears.  And I use those rare instants to reorient myself.  As I am doing now…

So, my theory…

I’ve heard it said that these days there are only two paths one can walk: service to others or service to self.  What you choose (and it is a choice) determines what is likely to happen to you.  I say these words with the least amount of judgment I can muster, though I acknowledge that some still exists; I personally believe that one is “better” than the other, though there is nothing truly backing that belief beyond wishful thinking…

Many (yes, many!) who believe themselves to be serving others are either deluding themselves unintentionally, or outright lying to themselves, for their actions say otherwise, repeatedly.  They are the first to preach the word of service while standing on others’ backs, pooping where they will, without regard to how that actually plays out in the world.

Those who admit to serving themselves appear to be quite empowered these days, achieving what they want/need at others’ expense, without guilt, shame or even deceit.  They think nothing of taking for themselves in a dog eat dog world, knowing no one else will put them first.  And there is a logic there that cannot be denied.  And an authenticity both harsh and refreshing…

But I believe there is another group operating beneath the awareness of those actively choosing their course.  They are the ones who simply act, and in doing so, support the others in their chosen roles.  They don’t feel they have a choice because their actions are simply a reflection of who they are, instinctive, reactive, spontaneous… yet always (I mean always!) benefitting someone else in the end…

I know you know someone like this.  They are the ones who stand in an arctic wind, shivering, holding the door open for two more minutes while a stranger struggles to get to the promised warmth.  The ones who hear someone quietly express a need, and step in to fill the void, without expectation of anything.  The ones who have already answered “yes” in their hearts when someone begins to say, “I need a favor…”

They are also the ones most often shit upon, taken advantage of, used up and tossed aside when all of their resources are gone.  You know this person; I know you do!  And we vacillate between calling them victims, weak, servile, and accepting them as angels, helpers, and personal saviors…

These people operate beneath the surface of everyday life, giving, losing, loving, regretting and sometimes resenting their lot in life.  Because yes, they have feelings, and needs themselves, but rarely the ability to ask for help.  And they are connected, like a giant safety net or web beneath the obvious everyday happenings.  And when one falters, quietly, the web reacts, shuffling resources, and pushing relief their way.  Because the safety net must not be allowed to falter.  And that is why we cannot quit!

Please note they do not serve because of low self-esteem, or a history of abuse, though many in modern society seem to want to believe that is the case.  Most of these people, that I personally know, have had difficult, even tragic lives.  But those lives developed around (perhaps because of) this innate need to give.  And when they have accepted this about themselves, they have discovered that their actions (in spite of all the consequences) are part of their integrity; they do not act to serve others, but they serve others as an authentic expression of themselves!

Allow me to repeat that: they do not act to serve others, but they serve others as an authentic expression of themselves!

And in so doing, they become some of the most confident, self-assured people I know…

So when the journey seems futile, and I fear I cannot give it anymore, I allow myself to fall apart, to express my “weakness,” even if only in the privacy of my own home and thoughts.  Because I know the web will readjust, and something will lift me up; the net will not falter or break because of me.  Because I know I am not alone…

And sometimes, that has to be enough!



Poetry, Reflections

“Murky Vision…”

I open my eyes wide

but I cannot see

through the miasma surrounding me.

It is dark here today –

corrupt and polluted –

so that only hazy outlines stand out from the gloom…

Like silt stirred up from watery depths

to obscure what lies beneath

while sun reflects off surface waves quite brilliantly…

For One who seeks a clearer path

there is none now to see

for murky is the way of chaos

and vision fails spectacularly…


“Welcome to… the Other Side…”

Today I read writings from 3 different sources, none of whom seem connected in any real or virtual way.  I actually read several others, as well, but these three stand out for the purpose of this post.  So what made them special?  Allow me to explain… lol!  (Lame intro, I know, but mind currently “blown”…)

What makes them (and their posts) unique is that they seem to be talking about 3 very different topics, and yet…

And yet, they feel exactly the same!

That’s right, they feel the same.  The words are different.  The topics are different.  The native languages are different, though I read them all in English.  The concepts, ideas, purposes – all different.  Absolutely no logical connection between them at all…

But when I close my eyes and let the words flow through my mind, something truly remarkable occurs – a picture begins to form; the words themselves shift and shape themselves into a vessel, like a vase or a bottle, decorated with a unique pattern.  And as I watch this happen, each “vessel” slides easily over the others, outlines matching perfectly, and settles in, until the unique decorative patterns merge to form a coherent design!

Three patterns, superimposed, to create one complete (?) image…

I examine that image more closely.  I realize it looks, smells, tastes, feels coherent, complete and whole, and that those sensations remain exactly the same, even when I pull the individual layers apart again; each layer consists of exactly the same look, smell, taste and feeling as the other two, which is why (or a result of) my mind tagging them together as “same,” even when they are obviously quite “different,” as well…


Other voices rise to the surface.  Other sources.  Other words, and messages.  All different…, but still.

Connections made, distances crossed in no Time at all.  Coming together, coalescing, synchronizing, meshing. Then merging.  All unrelated, and yet…

And yet… exactly the same!!!  The same image, smell, taste, feel; the same pattern, the same vessel forms…

And neurons begin to fire in both my and My mind, connections being made before questions can be asked; a full scale cascade beginning to form, though in this case, a multidimensional one.  And in the background the echo of a memory, a conversation once shared and written down, relevant again now…


The Scene: this timeline, 1994.  The location, the “Prologue” to Adventures in Otherhood; the Gathering (copyright 1994, by Lisa R. Palmer, self-published).

Thursday, August 4th, 1994:
How to begin? Perhaps a Tarot card will help – to set the mood or direct the flow?
The Page of Cups. But what does it mean?
Well in traditional interpretations the four pages are often called the “four children” of
the Tarot. They represent a form of completion, a “final stage,” the manifestation of energy into
form. Hmm… Interesting choice.
The Page of Cups is often seen as a princess. She is called the “Princess of the Waters
and the Lotus.”
In more mundane terms, the Page of Cups is said to be a contemplative person, drawn to
beauty and truth. This page gives freely of his/her knowledge, but only when asked. And, being
cups, this page is one of deep feeling and great foresight.
Or, less specifically, the card can be interpreted as a real person, male or female, who
makes the querent feel good, or has a positive influence on one’s emotions or emotional state. All
in all, an interesting card to choose now…
But why now?… It seems vaguely familiar somehow… Perhaps it sets up this book?
Perhaps it is a promise of what is to come? Or maybe a warning?… Perhaps it is only a card…
I suppose it could represent Lea – “Princess of the Waters and the Lotus”… Or it could be
me – “a contemplative person drawn to beauty and truth”… It could even be Bruce – “someone
who makes one feel good or has a positive influence on one’s emotions or emotional state”…
I suppose it could be less personal, too. Maybe it represents the Sacred Child to be borne
of the upcoming Sacred Marriage?… Or maybe it represents one of the “Four Children” who will
lead us into the New Age? Of course, that story requires that the Four Children must first be
brought together in the House of Elders… So maybe not, huh?…
I don’t know… Perhaps it is all of these people. Maybe all of us? Perhaps it is not.
Perhaps it is only a card…
Bruce: Why do you use these tools, Li – cards, Runes, stones? Why do you bother if you don’t
believe what they reveal?
L: Because they open my mind to possibilities, Bruce. And possibilities are the gateways to the
Steve: To the future Li?! What’s wrong with the “right now”? You know, if you spent less time in
the future and more time in the present, you might actually accomplish something someday. What
do you think?… Maybe?
Carol: To hell with the future! What about the past?! The woman can’t drag herself out of the
past – real or imagined! It’s no wonder she can’t create a future or deal with a present!
L: Are you all finished now?…
(When no one responds, she continues…)
Good! Then hear what I have to say to you…
Maybe I do spend too much time mulling over the past – real or imagined. (Smiling to
herself…) And maybe I am too interested in the future. But time, as such, is irrelevant. All the
events I consider exist NOW, at the moment of consideration and beyond. To accuse me of being
“out of time” is ridiculous, since time cannot contain Truth, only limit It. Perhaps more accurate
to accuse me of being “out of body,” “out of form.” Therein lies the real obstacle to physical
I choose to deal in thought-forms, ideas, potential. Whatever else there is in the world, it
is what exists within me that I fancy. It is the worlds within that interest me, motivate me, inspire me. For within “me” is Everything, All-That-Is, or -Was, or -Will-Be. Is-ness is the key to
understanding “me.” Is-ness within…
Steve: That’s nonsense, Li! It means nothing!
L: Perhaps. But Nothing-ness is included in All-That-Is, and is, therefore, equally valid.
Carol: Oh great! Mind games! Word games! Don’t you ever play real games, Li?
Bruce: C’mon, gang, give her a break! If you think about it, what she says makes sense, in a non-
sense sort of way. It’s a paradox.
Carol: And what good is paradox, pray tell? It reveals nothing of value. It means nothing. It
cannot be eaten, savored, used. It is useless.
L: Paradox reveals patterns, Carol, and patterns are the basis of reality. You are a “pattern,” one
that can be grasped through Paradox.
Carol: Oh, come on, Li… How do you figure?
L: It’s simple, really. We like to think in straight lines, Carol, with beginnings and endings,
capitals and periods, commas and consonants. But, while reality can be structured in those terms,
it is not complete as such.
Reality is round, spherical: it is whole. Pick any two points on the surface, say you and
that tree over there, and you can connect them with a straight line: You are human, the tree is not:
the tree exists, but separate from you. You are not a tree, the tree; the tree is not you, or any
But if you look more closely at that line you have drawn, you will see that it’s not exactly
straight; at least it is not flat. The surface of the sphere requires that the line bends, rolls, ripples
around the surface, the edge. What was once clearly hard and straight is now curved and soft – at
the same time! That is a Paradox, Carol. And all reality is paradoxical in that way.
When you look beyond that line you have drawn, you begin to grasp that there is much,
much more than what you have chosen to see. Here you sit on the surface drawing lines, making
conclusions, and calling them real and natural laws. Which they are.
But below the surface is a whole universe, complete in and of itself, with its own laws.
Draw a line between two points on the surface, but go through the center of the sphere, rather
than around its perimeter. What do you have then, Carol?
(There is no response…)
Bruce: (Thoughtfully…) You have two worlds, two universes, co-existing at the same time?
L: (Nodding…) Yet each equally of the whole…
Steve: Each a mirror reflection of the other!
L: (Agreeing…) And the line you have drawn is really a circle, a disk that bisects the whole, from
an infinite number of positions!
Steve: And if you draw another line like the first?
Bruce: You’d have four worlds co-existing within the whole!
L: (Laughing…) Well, that depends on whether you leave the first one in place or not… And
really, it gets more complicated than that, because each disk revolves around the whole, creating
any number of bisections, crossing and mingling with each other. And when you place a second
or third or even fourth disk, at different angles, you create a many-faceted jewel within the
sphere, reflecting the whole spectrum of color and sound and feeling…
Bruce: Then how do you keep track of all the worlds thus created?
Steve: I think the first question should be, can you?
L: Only by staying in the Center.
(The others just stare at her in disbelief…)
(Laughing…) OK, draw the picture we’ve been describing, and tell me what you see…
(The two men scribble in the dirt together, talking, conferring, erasing, agreeing…)
Steve: OK

Bruce: (Nodding…) Done!
L: Okay, now tell me – what do you see?
Steve: A mess?
L: Besides that!
Bruce: A star? Within a sphere?
L: Yes! And what does that picture reveal?
Bruce: (Smiling…) That you can contain a star within a sphere?
Steve: No! That you can create a sphere by containing a star!
(They all laugh together… except Carol…)
Carol: All disks intersect at a common point – the Center.
(All eyes turn toward Carol…)
L: (Softly…) Yes… All reality merges at the Center.
(A long moment of silence ensues as each person contemplates this discovery…)
Steve: (Thoughtfully…) So, we exist at the Center?
L: All exists at the Center… God exists at the Center. “I” exist at the Center…
Bruce: So the goal is to find the Center?
Carol: (Sharply…) This is ridiculous, Li! I just don’t buy it!
L: (Patiently…) Look again at the picture you have drawn. What else does it reveal?
(A long pause to think…)
Steve: All energy moves inward toward the Center?
Bruce: Or outwards from the Center, man. I mean, how can you tell?
L: Carol?
Carol: Leave me out of this, Li! I’d rather stay on the surface with my straight lines and easy
L: (Laughing…) Okay, as you wish… But then, that much is true anyway.
What each of you has seen is equally valid, equally real.
(The others look at her with doubt, suspicion, sarcasm…)
No, really! I mean it! Let me explain…
Steve, all energy does gravitate toward the Center – all experience is internalized.
And, Bruce, all energy moves outward from the Center as well – intention manifests into
action and experience…
Carol: (Sarcastically…) Which is then internalized, right?
L: Right!
Carol: Ha!
L: The movement is simultaneous, co-existing within the same moment – the NOW.
Bruce: Then how can it be movement, Li? Movement requires time: something exists here, then
there, then further down the line. That is the nature of movement.
L: Yes, another Paradox. But it, too, can be unraveled, providing you will accept the paradox it
produces – the very same one we started with!
Steve: (Confused…) Huh?
L: The pattern of the Paradox is the figure-8, or perhaps more accurately, a figure-8 cross, like
this:  (She draws a figure in the dirt…) We can explain each Paradox (the co-existence of
contradictory “facts” – a figure-8), by taking a path perpendicular to the first. But that path is
itself a figure-8, a continuum of opposites in mutual support of one another. Solvable only by
returning to our original paradox.
Steve: (Only half joking…) No “degrees” this time, Li, or co-existing infinities?
L: (Laughing…) Of course there are! But the only way to grasp them is to look at the whole, and
here we are trying to break it down, to analyze it.
Bruce: Which makes it other than it really is!

L: Which makes what it really is Other, which it cannot be!
Steve: Stop!!!
(They all laugh together…)
Carol: Now this is a perfect example of what I mean! All this talk is useless; it has accomplished
nothing but to confuse us! Show me how any of this matters, Li, and I’ll begin to listen.
Otherwise, I have better things to do – with the emphasis on “do”!
Steve: She has a point, Li. How can we use this?
L: You already are…
Bruce: (Laughing at Steve’s shocked expression…) You knew she would say that! What else
could she say?
(Giving them time to laugh, to relax, to regain balance and sense, L waits. Finally, she says…)
L: Indeed, what else could I say? To analyze, to understand, to visualize, to diagram… To explain.
All this to comprehend what can only be experienced.
How do we know what we know, my friends? How do we come to know what is
(A long pause before continuing…)
We experience – on the surface, deep within, through infinite levels and co-existing
universes. Yet all within the same Whole, all framed and bounded by the same existence. Free to
move without restraint within that existence. And all of it real: All of It – Real. Even what is
imagined or imagined to be real… That is the only way…
Suppose each of us is a sphere, containing within our unique existence the whole we have
been discussing – surface, Center and what is Between. Can you visualize that – you a whole
universe unto your Self?
Yet here we are together, in conversation, interacting with one another. Separate spheres,
separate universes, bumping into one another, merging, separating, dancing in the vastness of
Empty-ness between us, clinging to the slender thread that unites us, that allows us to meet here
like this, to “be” here like this, with each other, as Other…?
Discover what it is that unites us and you will have the answer to how this can be
(Blank stares meet her emotional entreaty…)
Okay, my friends…
(Nodding resignedly…) Give it time, then, since it is yours to give. Let these questions
roll about in the sphere that is you and see what patterns are created. Examine the currents the
questions create. Ride the waves of thought and form thus created, and give yourself over to the
swirls, the eddies, the whirlpools of your experience, your emotions. Be who you are, become
what you seek. Meet me when you are through.
When your time has come, and passed, when you have sifted through the ashes of what
was, through the mist of what will be, and found your self present again, I will meet you.
On the Other Side…


And the Adventure ends with a double-sided mat outside an unremarkable door which reads:

Welcome to… the Other Side”



Poetry, Reflections


I stand alone, within a crowd


Calming breaths, burrowing roots

still my restless self.

Every ounce of fortitude

every spark of will

every bit of discipline

required to rein Me in…

Now a statue, not stone, but flesh

my focus turns without.

To see the world pass me by

unmoved by my existence.

In every face, despair

In every voice, fear

In every life that passes

a story of distress.

For chaos rules the world today

and wicked winds of change.

Perhaps, if I can hold my ground,

my life would feel more sane…

But even here, unmoving,

reality seeks its claim…

Lightning strikes me from above,

attacks quite unanticipated.

Raging cyclones chip away

at balance, strength, and certainty.

And flocks of birds fly overhead,

to defecate quite purposely…

Yet here I stand, immobolized,

completely unprovoking…

So how am I to name this space?

What judgment comes to mind?

How can I explain this?

Or justify my time?

Is standing still the least destructive

for me and those nearby?

Or should I slip into the flow

let chaos be my guide?

Hanging on or letting go,

the difference is extreme.

So, caught between the consequences

Immobile I remain.


Poetry, Reflections, Visions

Tangled threads…

Sitting at the Loom of Fate,

weaving a destiny I choose to create,

I notice…

Old threads are coming loose, fraying,

unravelling the past I built.

I reach over, hoping to minimize the loss

but the holes are already forming

the damage done by time, man or moth.

Or all of the above…

So I refocus on today, and what’s ahead,

the pattern sweet and true,

only to discover knots in both the red thread and the blue.

Sighing deeply, frustration raging,

I calm my spirit, and focus my mind.

“I can fix this,” I tell myself,

“just take it one thread at a time.”

And so begins the process of detangling tiny threads,

ever so gently teasing the knots apart,

so as not to weaken them.

But my eyes grow tired with the task,

and my hands begin to cramp…

I wonder if I can weave them in,

without ruining the final product.

“That would be cheating,” I tell myself,

“and lazy, too…

“Is that how you want the future to remember you?”

So I sit back to take a break

and another thought occurs…

“What happens if I just walk away?

“Right now, without delay?

“Will anyone notice?  Does anyone care,

“if I never finish weaving my own fate?”

With the past unravelling,

and the future unwoven,

now might be the perfect time to quit.

Let obscurity claim my name,

and simply clean my slate.

And I will never have existed,

apart from All-That-Is;

I will not have lived or died

or suffered, endured, triumphed or lost.


once the remnants have dissolved.


So tempting is that thought…

I turn back to my tangled threads

as I contemplate the cost…


Where has my compassion gone?

I’m standing on the deck this cold winter morn, reflecting on all that is around/within me.  I notice the waning moon, face brilliantly unexpressive, shining dispassionately against the perfectly blue morning sky.  The crows caw their morning greetings, but I can barely force myself to respond.  As the chill seeps through the layers of my human made winter wear, I cannot rouse an ounce of motivation to push it away.  It reminds me of something… something close enough to feel, if not yet to name.

My mind reaches for happier thoughts… connections to the world around me.  I recall the joy I felt yesterday at the first stirring of the trees.  They are nowhere near awake around here yet, but I felt the rootlets twitching slightly, and the sap begin to soften, as the trees baked in the strong midwinter sun.  Soon… soon enough, my dear friends will waken, and our work together will commence once more…

I listen, and can hear my grandchildren giggling at last night’s party; such carefree abandon always makes me smile.  I see my grandaughter’s impish grin as she watches me, looking for a reaction as she manipulates the adults surrounding her.  I think about how my 6 year old grandson put himself in a “timeout” (yes, he called it that as he sat down), for accidentally knocking over an empty bottle in his enthusiastic play.  He is always so hard on himself, but I cannot help but admire such self-discipline in one so young…

And then my thoughts drift to the others, those in pain, who crossed my path yesterday.  My focus, however, is not so much on the pain they expressed in countless known or unknown ways, but in my reaction to it.  Because everyone is in pain these days, and such pain must find release…

My concern is about how I felt about it, how I reacted.  The person who told me a dozen times over a 4 hour visit how tired they were became annoying.  The one who worked so hard overcoming sadness and grief that their faux happiness gained enough volume to become excruciating.  The injustices shared, to which I could only mildly respond, “such is life.”  The person whose physical pain mirrored my own, so much so that I was grateful when they finally left.  Even my own discomfort captured less than my full attention, as I crawled up stairs with hands and feet, involuntary groans escaping (in front of people, even!), without me caring what others (or my self) might think…

Tears slip silently down my cheeks as I write these words, but no sobs accompany them.  They are the hopeless, unacknowledged grief of something lost, without the desire to even identify the cause.  But I suspect I know already, if the title of this piece carries any significance at all, for what I do NOT feel this morning is compassion.  Not for myself, nor for anyone (or perhaps any thing) at all.  I feel a void where it used to exist, an emptiness that holds only fading memory.  I remember caring.  I remember hurting.  I remember helping.  But all of that is in the past…

My eye is drawn back to that brilliant moon in a flawless cold midwinter sky…

Yes… dispassion is the right word for today, and it has crept in to every aspect of my awareness.  I guess that answers my question, doesn’t it?