Archives for category: Relationships


I scrolled down my Facebook feed last night, image after image of comments, photos, memes about a fresh tragedy in Charleston. Nine souls in heaven now, countless beings writhing in anguish because someone thought it was okay – or necessary – to kill in order to try to control their environment.

Cynthia Hurd, Reverend Sharonda Singleton, Ethel Lance, Tywanza Sanders, The Honorable Reverend Clementa Pinkney, Myra Thompson, Reverend DePayne Middleton-Doctor, Reverend Daniel Simmons, and Susie Jackson have all left this world at the hands of another person. Beautiful people; this world misses them.

Dylann Roof thought he had something to protect from them.

From us.

I see posts by my dark-skinned friends and wonder if their feelings about me have changed. I look pretty darn white. I’m afraid to comment. I value their friendship; I love them, even the ones I’ve never broken bread with. I don’t want to lose them. I agree with them. I wonder if they would believe that. I sit in silence.

That’s my attempt to control my environment.

I see comments by Charleston citizens of my own apparent ethnicity, heartbroken that someone violated the ‘charm’ of their city. Much of that ‘charm’ was built through the theft of the sweat of slaves. Can I tell my friends that some of my own ancestors landed in Charleston, hundreds of years ago? There’s a street there named after my mother’s family. They went on to own a plantation in Alabama.

Shame. Secrets. Pain.

I’ve listened to relatives pine about lost grandeur, wistfully flipping through photos of elegant sitting rooms and rolling lawns. I’m riveted by the photos of the slave cabins (no one calls them that anymore; now they’re ‘out-buildings’). I’m afraid to comment. I value their friendship; I love them, even the ones who have hit me repeatedly. I don’t want to lose them. But I don’t agree with them. I wish I could think of something to say that would open their minds. I sit in silence.

Shame. Secrets. Despair.

Gender, Race, Nationality, Species, for goodness’ sake. Whatevah. But whatevah matters.

Karma. Our state of mind, our actions, bring us to our present conditions. Our world is our mirror. Everything we see and experience reflects our own state of mind. Thank goodness it’s fluid and mutable.

I believe in reincarnation. Not because it makes sense, but because of what I’ve seen firsthand (out of body experience in 1999, dreams beyond enumeration).

In recent years, I’ve explored regression hypnosis. I wanted to know if I’ve been abducted by ‘aliens’. I wanted to know how far back my Buddhist roots go. Instead of plunging back into memories of darkened bedrooms, mysterious glowing lights and little people with big eyes and elephant-hide skin, or sitting in caves in the Himalayas, I got histories beyond this world.

In every session, my mind has carried me to worlds so unlike this one that description strains possibility. I’ve been a humanoid aquatic being with golden and blue skin that flowed in rippling ribbons around my legs. I’ve been a spindly, withered being that buried himself deep in sand so he could send his mind to other bodies in other universes in order to try and open minds, teach. I’ve been a pilot of a starship trying to blast through a crusty yet etheric shield around earth – eons ago. I’ve been a young goatherd living in remote mountains who left home to travel with the star beings who visited regularly. I’ve been a fat old woman who ran a boarding house in a post-apocalyptic America-like place, having lost all family and friends and living in a neo-agrarian society without even a post office.

It’s enough to make me want to write Science Fiction, because I doubt anyone might believe they’re my memories. As if it matters. It’s enough to make me wonder how humans can be so confused that we think we’re not the same, just because we look different or hold different beliefs. And yet, each time I return to this waking life I marvel that I can be both Leslee and all those beings. If I can be all those beings, then I can also be a person killed in a senseless shooting. Or the person firing the gun.

I try to keep my vision focused on the facets of the mirror that please me, wishing to love and share and cherish others. But the hateful glimpses keep popping into my peripheral vision. There’s some house-keeping to be done.

Since I was a little kid growing up in 1960’s Alabama, I’ve been confronted with racism ranging from subtle to terrifyingly flagrant. It frightens me to the core. If humans hate each other because of culture and skin color, what’s to protect me from the hatred of others? If I don’t even identify myself as human, how can I walk in this world without fear?

In this life, here I sit as an overweight white female, trying to learn to accept it, even to love it; trying to learn to love myself. Somehow, I pray to believe, that effort works towards bringing unconditional love to this world.

Here’s what I’m up against:

Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve hated my white skin.

Not because I’m racist; because it just looks like the wrong skin. It’s not the skin I was expecting in this life. I gaze upon people with golden caramel-colored skin or deep coffee-colored skin, smile at their radiant beauty, and pray to have my skin back in my next life. It might be African, it might be Tibetan or Mayan, I don’t know or care. Just please not this splotchy pink translucent stuff. I can’t explain it; I can only confess it’s where I’m at, and I want to move to a better place.

For now, I have to deal with this white skin.

When I was a little girl, I used to check regularly to see if my missing genitalia was finally growing in. I’m not a lesbian or trans-gender; I just thought I was supposed to be a guy. When I got my first menstrual cycle, I sobbed in despair; I was doomed to life as a female. I knew instinctively at that young age that to be female in that present world and time meant to be perceived as less-than, dis-empowered.

For now, I have to deal with this female gender.

When I got pregnant, I gained 75 pounds. Twenty years later, I still carry 30 of them. I don’t recognize myself in the mirror.

Which is, of course, the root of the situation at hand.

Thank goodness I believe these transient conditions will pass. Thank goodness I can see the world changing before my very eyes. Thank goodness I believe we can come through this mess of current events with a deeper understanding of ourselves and how we connect and create our realities. Because I can’t wait to fall in love with what I see in the mirror.

I don’t want to live in a world of self-hatred, with constant reminders flashing before me on Facebook and the news.

To accomplish that, I must learn to love others as myself. It’s a process. I don’t want to feel separate from others. I don’t want resentment, anger, despair. I want love, peace and community.

To accomplish that, I must learn to love myself, so my mirror-world doesn’t show me the horror of Dylann Roof’s actions. Dylann Roof hates himself far more than those he killed. That’s how he can stand expressionless while listening to loved ones of the dead plead with him to repent. He doesn’t feel worthy of salvation; his despair runs that deep.

Does my despair run that deep? Does your despair run that deep?

Can I accept my own circumstances – the world I’ve created – and be willing to surrender my wish to control, protect, preserve? Am I willing to insist on love at any cost?

When I remember that this is just one life, just one world among countless universes, the conditions I grasp with my might-as-well-be-skeleton-hands dissolve and waft away like strands of a spiderweb in a soft breeze, like a forgotten dream.

I have work to do.

Because I have work to do, we have work to do.

You are me. I am you. I love you.

This matters. Please don’t shrug this off and say, “whatevah”. In every moment we make choices that lead us along our path in this world, and thus we choose what we will next see in the mirror of our world.

Please help me remember in those every moments, that we come from boundless love abiding in stillness and peace. We just got a little bored and decided to incarnate. We don’t have to create pain.

Please, let’s do this together.

Thank you – please accept my deepest gratitude.


They were really enjoying one another’s company…

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around july 22 2013?


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“Alrahtey, sir, that’ll be eleven thirty-eight, an’ we’ll see yah at the winduh.”

“All raht, we’ll be raht there…”

“Well Ah hope so!”

(Five minutes later…)

“Well, yah made it!”

(laughter) “Yep, we sure did!”

(Ain’t no place lahk home… Warms thuh cockles o’ muh heart… Please let meh know if yuh’d lahk uh translation…)


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one billion petals on the flower of life
one trillion worlds holding blooms
life’s water courses
life’s spark ignites
throughout
our world sleeps and dreams

one billion dreams, many thousands more lifetimes
thousands of bridges lead where
life’s travels swaddle
life’s visions persuade
timing
holds dreams fast to land

one billion lands echo laughter, silent sadness
one cry brings insight within
life’s spark breathes deeply
life’s pause lifts fully
loving
dreams bring us back home


hurtling towards enlightenment

hurtling towards enlightenment

In some ways it stuns me to consider that it was two years ago that I made this post.

At that time, I had not dreamed that I would really meet so many wonderful people, learn so much, and experience so much (more) change.

I wished for it, but I didn’t dare dream it might really happen.

Now I understand that when we simply hold fast, all that we desire will arise for us.

Many heartfelt thanks to all of you who have joined my journey(s) and given me so much love and friendship.

I’m honored to be here with you.

Namasté.


moose medicine

remembering to go within, when the without makes not much sense…

These words came to me this morning as I was chatting with a friend.

I thought, Wow, where did that come from? And it is so true right now.

It seems I’ve been on the road and barely connected for three weeks or more now, and I woke up this morning feeling a little down, a little sad, a little overwhelmed.

I went outside and said hello to the morning, knowing I needed to go within, and all would be well. I put my feet on the earth, and just sat and absorbed some sun filtering through the leaves.

I’m still faced with a bit of packing, a lot of loading, loads of uncertainty, miles of driving, and who knows what else, as I make my way back out to Pagosa Springs.

As I sat, trying to listen instead of thinking for a moment, something very powerful slipped into my awareness.

You.

I began to see and feel a procession, a gathering, of all the friends I enjoy: all the loving hearts I know personally, no matter how physically distant they may appear. And with every face or name that arose, I lost count (thank goodness), and felt in awe of how much power that – seemingly tiny – bit of knowledge  – connectedness – wields.

So I’m moved to share this brief post, in gratitude, just to say thank you.

Thank you for entering my life, and for returning from time to time… usually just when I’m craving contact.

Thank you for showing me – proving to my sometimes stubborn resistance – that this world is a glorious magical place, in which people appear like dreams to walk with us.

Thank you for being brilliant, each in your own ways, for inspiring me and opening my mind.

Thank you for journeying with me – I am deeply honored.

Side-note: As I went to look for an image to add to this post, I was guided to a picture I took late last year of a small Chinese carving of a moose, that a friend has in her home. I had no idea why… until I found this explanation at www.in5d.com. I think I understand the “why” of the golden color, but I’ll await your insights as to the possible meaning of the moose being rotated into a diamond shape… at least it’s looking upward!

MOOSE MEDICINE:

Magic of life and death, sacred energy is opened, camouflage self, conceal ideas/thoughts/actions until the appropriate time, life is awakening and moose will acknowledge the truths that are needed by your spirit. Aids in moving emotions for awareness, teaches strength, wisdom and patience. Moose gives you the ability to move swiftly but silently with wisdom. Are you being gentle with yourself? Do you need to more graceful and humble or speak up more? Moose will show you balance along with how strength can be found in gentleness and how to deal with situations.  

Our powerful moose cousin is a symbol of courage and determination.  Those who know the moose spirit proudly walk with grace and have universal knowledge.  The power of their presence is awesome and inspiring.

Moose calves are born with their eyes open.  Those who follow the moose medicine see life situations with clarity and can see into the beyond.

The moose’s huge antlers protect it during battle and represent the tree of knowledge.  This teaches us to shield ourselves from life’s many adversaries with truth and spiritual understanding.

The adult male can stand over 7 feet tall and weigh 1,200 pounds.  Its size and lumbering appearance is deceiving because the moose is agile and fast.   Moose spirit guides bring these same qualities to the individual who seek their wisdom.  

Despite its great size, moose can camouflage itself very well and can move silently and quickly through its terrain.   This teaches us ways to become invisible when necessary and not allow our powerful presence to become overbearing to others.

The bellow of the male moose can be heard for many miles.  This trait shows us that our great presence can be known to all when necessary. 

The appearance of the moose is both awkward and graceful at the same time.  These traits are translated in human terms as   instruction in ways to be gracious and relaxed in our dealings with others.

Moose have a keen sense of smell and hearing.   The spirit guide of the moose will often bring messages of future events yet unseen.

The sheer power and strength of the moose is tremendous.  Those who walk with the moose know the value of good self-esteem and quickly discover their walk in life.  

(from in5d.com: http://www.in5d.com/animal-symbolism-totems-and-dream-analysis.html)


no labels

Conversation…

Misunderstanding?

Who’s to say?

You ask me for a word…

You offer me a word…

You take my words,

And assign a label.

From the zero point before labeling

To the blackened crash point once labeled

There emerges a gulping, gulf-ing ocean… of confusion and misinterpretation.

You ask me if that is the correct word?

How can I answer…

Assign your label…

Take: permission to re-define, re-describe, re-subsume my “reality”

And analyze accordingly…

The point completely missed, lost among the arbitrary yet meaningless words.

So I will sit and watch and listen

And contemplate the depth of love.