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Weaving the Threads of Community

Posted February 27, 2012 by Guest in Sacred Connections  |  1 comment

by Guest on February 27, 2012

Guest post by Blossom Merz of the Weaving Monk for Sacred Connections series.

Weaving is my meditation, my salvation from depression, and my hope for the future of community.

When I started my weaving business, I knew that there was something different about this venture.  I had started and run other businesses with varying levels of success, but this one had spirit.  There was a tiny voice in the back of my head telling me that this business would be the one that changed my life and the lives of others in my community.

At the time I was recovering from the failure of a previous business, living in San Francisco, and working for minimum wage. I knew I didn’t belong in the city so I set out to start a business that I could easily move to the country.  I also wanted to do something that would let me be creative every day and form the foundation of the sacred crafts collective that I had dreamt of for over a decade.

At some point in the process of weaving small items to raise money for my production equipment, I realized that I wasn’t depressed any more.  Exercising my creative potential seemed to be relieving my depression. I’m not a doctor and I can’t tell people that creativity will cure their depression, I but I can say that it made mine manageable.

When I realized this, I set a goal for myself: exercise my creativity every single day.  I believe that every time we engage in the act of creation we are connecting with the divine creator and strengthening the divinity in ourselves.

Once the business was off the ground and others could see a tangible manifestation of my vision, they started appearing and talking about a spiritual community that used craftwork to connect to the sacred.  Last June we committed to each other and began the steps toward living together and creating a new community.

Now that we have had some time together, I can report that, as a spiritual practice, creating in a group is not much different than creating on my own.  My personal moments of connection with the divine still mostly happen during the time that I spend alone with the threads, letting my muse guide me in my work.

The differences mostly lie in the mundane day-to-day aspects.  When I crafted alone, my work and my goals were limited to my own imagination.  Now, there is a community that cares, not just what I do, but why I do it.

We help each other with every task from evaluating potential designs to critiquing photography, reviewing business decisions, and much, much more.  They help shake me out of my own thought process and become a better artist that I could have ever been on my own, and to always remember our community goals in my process.

We do have one community practice that enhances my personal spiritual work.  In this group, we make it a point to acknowledge the sacred in each other.  Everyone has a different way of connecting with the divine and these differences serve as a constant reminder that nobody’s way is better than anyone else’s.

As part of our practice, we set aside time to share our spiritual experiences with each other and celebrate the diversity of spirit.  Nobody’s reality is judged by the others, but simply shared.  This seemingly simple practice does more than anything else to take our individual threads and weave them into a community experience.

In woven cloth, every thread in the warp touches every thread in the weft.  If a thread is removed, the quality of the cloth is changed and weakened.  In a close community, every person’s life touches every other.  They cannot be separated without changing and weakening the group.  We hold it as a constant goal to develop our close community and then teach others how to do this for themselves.

Many people have asked about contacting us, coming to visit, or joining the group.  For now our community is cloistered while we do the work of developing a structure that will allow us to share and grow when the time comes.  While we develop our community, we are always doing the sacred craftwork and going out on weekends to bring our vision into the world for others to see.  If you are interested in meeting up on one of our trips into the world, take a look at our events calendar and see if and when we’ll be in your area.


Blossom Merz, also known as The Weaving Monk, weaves cloth as part of a small spiritual community in Southern Oregon. He uses his craft to further their vision of a world where people are more connected to each other and the items in their lives. Blossom and his weaving community sell their wares at events up and down the West Coast as well as through his Etsy store.

Connect with Blossom: Website + Blog | Etsy | Facebook | Twitter

 

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Yoga Dharma

Posted February 2, 2012 by Guest in Sacred Connections  |  6 comments

by Guest on February 2, 2012

Guest post by Carrie Hensley of  Realize Your Potential for Sacred Connections.

I first discovered yoga…shhhhh don’t tell…because I wanted Madonna’s arms.

After my first class I was hooked. This was a physical form like no other!  I didn’t have to jump around the world or stand up on an imaginary bike hill to get burning in my legs.  As I continued to come back to my mat, something else would happen.  I would feel more rooted in my physical body, calmer in my mind, and more conscious of my thoughts.  I was intrigued.

Where was this new found calm, balance, and peace of mind coming from?

What began as an outer physical workout regime turned into a home coming, an inner trek to connect to my own True Nature.  I quickly learned that asanas (physical postures) are only one of eight limbs on the yoga path.  The eight limbs of yoga are:

  • Yamas: how you treat others and the world around you~ non-violence, truthfulness, non-stealing, moderation, non-greediness;
  • Niyamas: how you treat yourself~ cleanliness, contentment, spiritual austerity, self-study, surrender to Source;
  • Asana: physical practice;
  • Pranayama: breath control;
  • Pratyahara: withdrawal of senses;
  • Dharana: concentration;
  • Dhyana: meditation; and
  • Samadhi: absorption.

Yoga philosophy is rooted in 25 principles, one of them being Isvara Pranidhana (God, Source, Great Spirit, the Sacred). After consciously embracing this philosophy for years, I continue to tread the yogic path because at the heart of yoga is the belief that there is a place within us that is non-changing, whole, and complete.  This place is Source.

To embody the yamas is to recognize that all things are a reflection of Source.  Ahimsa, or non-violence, the first concept along the eight-fold path, prompts me to hold veneration for all aspects of life, from the simplest of mosquitos (I didn’t say it was always easy) to the more dynamic concept of how I respect and care for mother nature.

One of the most difficult, yet profound as far as healing along the yogic path goes for me, has unfolded organically as I practice the niyamas.  I have had to learn a new way to interact with myself.  Before yoga, there was so much disconnect between various aspects of myself.  I had expended so much energy hiding those places of self-loathing, shame, and fear of unworthiness from being exposed.

In seeing myself as Sacred, I have been given permission to listen to the wisdom my body holds.  I have learned to appreciate and celebrate all that is right with me instead of focusing on what I am lacking.  I have learned that all parts of me are acceptable and necessary along the path towards Self-realization.

As I step onto my mat and flow back and forth, in and out of poses I connect to Source.

As I sink into a forward fold, I bow to myself, acknowledging that place of wholeness within myself

As I expand my heart open in a backbend, I surrender to Source.

Through this sacred movement of prayer, all of my areas of resistance are smoothed away, exposing me to my inner most Authentic Self.

Moving towards stillness by sitting in meditation reveals my deepest thoughts of separation and disconnect.  Learning to sit without judgment allows me to cultivate a gentle compassion towards the darkest aspects of myself, the parts I wish to hide from others.  By connecting to these areas within me, I am more capable of connecting and holding tolerance for those same areas in others.

Yoga connects us to the divine in all things by treating others and ourselves with reverence by stepping onto our mats through movement of prayer, and by sitting still with ourselves, in an attempt to come home to the beauty and Sacredness present within.

For me, yoga has been one of the greatest gifts of my life.  It has brought me home to my-Self and connected me to my life’s purpose, holding space for others to more authentically connect to their own True Nature.

Namaste’


Carrie Hensley’s personal life experiences have led her on a lifelong quest for self-discovery and truth.  She began teaching yoga in 1998 and also trained in Vipassana meditation. Through her own healing journey, Carrie has become a genuine example of the resiliency of spirit. Her core teachings integrate yoga postures (asanas), breath awareness (pranayama), Vipassana meditation, mindfulness, and humor to guide students to their own journey of intention, authenticity, and uncovering their life’s purpose. In 2005 Carrie co-opened Inside The Bungalow, yoga studio and cafe, with the intention of providing a Sacred space where students can come home to their own True Nature.
Connect with Carrie: Website + Blog | Facebook | Google+ | Twitter

 

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Making Art, Making Magic

Posted January 12, 2012 by Guest in Sacred Connections  |  32 comments

by Guest on January 12, 2012

Guest post by Joanna Powell Colbert, creator of the Gaian Tarot, for Sacred Connections series.

I stumbled across the process of making magic through making artwork, or artwork as a transformative process, back in 1985 when I first started drawing pen and ink portraits of goddesses.

Goddess Spirituality was brand new to me. I was consuming everything I could find on the topic — books like WomanSpirit by Hallie Iglehart Austen, Patricia Monaghan’s Encyclopedia of Goddesses and Heroines, and The Spiral Dance by Starhawk.  I was circling with other women who were also coming out of oppressive religious traditions. We were all finding a lot joy and empowerment in embracing the Divine Feminine for the first time.

I was very interested (and still am) on how Spirit shines through the countenance of everyday people, when we shift into our deepest, wisest Selves.  So I started drawing portraits of Goddesses, and asked different women to pose for me.

Then I did a self-portrait of myself as Artemis, the Greek Goddess who epitomizes “Woman Whole Unto Herself.” At the time I was twelve years into a marriage that was emotionally abusive. I had given away all my personal power to that man and that marriage, and to the church we attended.

I painted a portrait of myself as Artemis, not thinking about my marriage, but thinking about all the qualities I would like to have — her courage, her athleticism, the fact that she didn’t need a partner to be whole.

I painted Her as the protector of the wild things, with a deer in the background. Later someone said they saw my children in that deer; I was their protector. A few months after creating that self-portrait, I found the courage to walk out on my marriage. That painting set me free.

There is something about creating archetypal art that takes us down to a place where we can access our own wisdom, and where others resonate with our experience and emotions.

When I say that I make magic when making art, I mean that I connect with the Divine consciously, and surrender to Her guidance. There is an element of transformation in making this kind of art for both the artist and the one viewing the art, just like there is in any well-crafted ceremony or ritual.

When I first started working on the Gaian Tarot in 2001, I had no idea that it would take me nine years to finish it. I didn’t even know if there would be an audience for it. I just knew I had been called to create it, and that I really did not have a choice.

One of the first cards I painted was the Priestess. I am an ordained priestess. I know what it means to walk the path of sacred service, to teach, and to stand in that liminal place between this world and the next, opening and closing gateways. I know how to act as an underworld guide for others, which of course is what a good tarot reader does.

I poured my own experience as a priestess into this image. Even though the High Priestess in many tarot decks is depicted as a young woman, in my own experience the most powerful priestesses are elder women. So I split her face in two, making her half-Maiden, half-Crone. I can’t tell you how many over-50 women have said to me: “That’s me!

I chose a lot of the imagery for this card consciously — the split face; the wolf, salmon and owl; the willow veil, and the Dreaming Goddess of Malta. Other elements of the design were intuitive choices, or even “happenstance,” which in retrospect is really divine guidance. For example, one day a friend asked me if I had put the “white cross with the red center” into the Priestess image on purpose, because that was a significant symbol to her. I had no idea what she was talking about. I looked again and saw that the white gown formed a cross or labyrs, with the red pomegranate at its center.

Now that is a great mystery, and I have seen it come up time and again, as I discuss the Gaian cards with people who love them. I am constantly learning about symbolism in the cards that others see and that I did not consciously put there.

Last summer I went through a difficult time. By the end of October my healing was well underway, and yet I was keenly aware of the scars on my psyche. I submerged myself into the colors, scents and sounds of November, meditating on the ancestors and the Old Ones, especially the Goddess in her guise as the Crone. I created a piece of art I call “Elder of the Scar Clan.” I poured all my grief, heartache and healing into this piece.

The response to it was astounding; many women identified with it, naming themselves as members of the Scar Clan. When I showed it to my therapist, he said: “I see her courage and her wisdom. And the last thing I see is her scar.” When I look at it now, I see my heart’s blood, and I see the courage to heal and to forgive.

Art. Magic. Transformation.

Blessed be.

 All Artwork by Joanna Powell Colbert ©1985 – 2011


Joanna Powell Colbert is an artist, author and teacher of earth-centered spirituality, creativity and tarot. The Gaian Tarot combines Joanna’s love of symbolic, archetypal art with the mysteries of the natural world. It was released as a deluxe Collector’s Edition in 2010, followed by a mass market version published by Llewellyn in 2011. Joanna is currently teaching a series of seasonally-based e-courses, Gaian Soul Practices, on nature, creativity and contemplation.
Connect with Joanna: Website | Blog | Facebook | Facebook Page | Twitter

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Spirit in the Spice Drawer

Posted November 30, 2011 by Guest in Sacred Connections  |  10 comments

by Guest on November 30, 2011

Guest post by Rachelle Mee-Chapman of Magpie Girl for Sacred Connections series.

So often we are told that we must add a layer of activity onto our daily living in order to access the sacred.

If only we would go to church, or mosque, or temple…
If only we could do yoga every day…
If only we could develop a really consistent 5am meditation practice…
If only we could climb a mountain in Tibet..
…and chant with 90 year old monks
…while eating only vegan food from hand crafted bowls whilst wearing free-trade organic clothing.

If only we could do one (or all!) of these things, well, then the sacred would be truly near.

It is true that all of these noble efforts help people become aware of the sacred. I myself have found comfort and connection in a couple of them over the years. Yet the older I get, the more I’ve come to appreciate the simple-sacred that appears in our every day.

Most of my favorite moments of Everyday Sacred come while cooking.  During the holiday season our cooking-from-scratch quotient here in the U.S. skyrockets.  Cookies and fudge.  Wild rice stuffing and cranberries with orange zest.  Cinnamon rolls for Christmas morning.  All of these traditions give us an excellent opportunity for experiencing the sacred in our everyday.

I spend a lot of time at the kitchen counter all year long.  On most days I’m just flying through the motions– getting the pasta on the table, or the carrot sticks into the lunchboxes.  Everything is so routine that I don’t notice the sacred underpinning it all.

But my cooking takes on a different tone during the busy holiday season.  I’m not cooking the usual fare, so it snaps me out of the monotony.  And I need grounding practices during the hustle and bustle, so I use the time in the kitchen to anchor me.

During the holidays, I set an intention to be mindful of the food I am preparing.  As I scrub the yams, or smell the spices from the chai on the stove, I try to pay attention to the emotions that arise with those actions.  As I prepare the minestrone soup our family has on Christmas Eve, I’m grateful for the workers who picked the tomatoes, and for the genius who thought up gluten-free penne.  While I make any number of my mother-in-law’s famous cookie recipes, I pause to feel the warm swell that comes from being part of a loving heritage.  The scent of anise and cloves rising up like incense as I stir the thick dough for pfefferneuse helps me connect to abundance as I feel the bounty of both my spice cupboard, and my heritage.  And as I make the dinner rolls, my prayer for each guest gets kneaded into the dough.  The sacred revealed in chopping and mashing, flour and yeast, cinnamon and cloves.

Perhaps this holiday season – and throughout the year – you might find a moment of peace while stirring the oatmeal.  Perhaps you might offer a prayer of thanksgiving over the onions.  Perhaps you might be surprised by joy as your children laugh over a sink full of sudsy dishes.

My blessing for you today friends is this;

May you find spirit in the spice drawer. 

May enlightenment come to you in the steady scoop of teaspoons. 

And may you find the sacred in the kneading.

Amen?  Amen.

Much Warmth,

Rachelle Mee-Chapman
*your magpie girl

What about you? Where have you encountered the sacred in the kitchen? How might you bring mindfulness to the divine moments that are held in the breaking of the bread?


Rachelle Mee-Chapman helps people create right-fit spiritual practices for themselves and their families.  She teaches online at Magpie Girl: care for creative souls; and hosts Flock, an online relig-ish community.

Connect with Rachelle:  Website + Blog | Facebook | Twitter

 

 

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Singing as a Sacred Practice

Posted November 17, 2011 by Guest in Sacred Connections  |  6 comments

by Guest on November 17, 2011

Guest post by Sharon Knight for Sacred Connections series.

I believe all life is a song.  You can hear the rhythms pulsing all around you, the chirping of birds, the laughter of voices, even the oceanic lull of traffic.  And we are part of this song, part of the great symphony that is life.

We are musical instruments.  We cry out in ecstasy and in pain, because we must.  It hurts us to feel silenced, and when silent too long, we yearn to find our voice.

We sing.  We breathe, and as we will it, sound comes out of us.  Speech, usually, but with a little discipline, song.

Often we talk of finding our voice.  To find our voice is to claim our identity, and to commit to that identity by speaking it.  There is power in speaking what is true for us.  And there is even more power, I feel, in singing our truth.

Music stirs such emotion just by listening.  To feel the music move through us as we sing our own emotion can be nothing short of transformative.

I often start my day off with singing and meditation.  I will let myself sing whatever it is I am feeling, wherever I am at.  If I wake up fearful, I sing that.  If I wake up excited I sing that.  If I had bad dreams or am feeling crotchety, if I have cramps, or if I’m certain I will be the biggest business flop in the history of womankind, I sing that.  Even if it sounds goofy, I let whatever is in me come out.

It feels like a truth telling, and being honest with myself in this way helps me to become present to exactly what is going on for me.  I work with this, always singing the process, and end by singing out all the things I am grateful for.  Turns out there are many.

Singing invigorates me.  It strengthens my lungs and super-charges my cells.  It lifts my hopes and fears, dreams and desires, up to the heavens.  Each song, sung with intention, is a prayer.  Singing sharpens my senses, brings me to a place of presence, and allows me to open to those parts of me that are both vulnerable and powerful.

To sing my process makes me feel a part of the cosmic symphony.  It reminds me that I am a harmonic in the greatest song ever sung.  And so are you.


Sharon Knight is an internationally touring musician in the folk-fantasy vein, and also teaches Sonic Alchemy, a song-driven process of personal transformation.
Connect with Sharon: Website + Blog | Facebook | Twitter | YouTube

 

 

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