Oh Where, Oh Where

It's been two years since my minor foray (5 posts) into sharing my life via short blogging vignettes. I don't know why I stopped. And I sure as heck don't know how to capture two years, here and now. But I want to. It has been an extraordinary time.

It began with a month long journey of mystical experiences and synchronicities unlike anything I had ever experienced. The veil parted and I "saw the light." I assumed these expanded moments of pure oneness were happening to me for a reason, and I really believed I was ushering in a new way to be human.

And then it stopped.
And I died.
Kinda.

Looking back, I see the call was just the start of a long initiation. In this time I have been a snake shedding the skin of identity and ego. I have let go of most everything that made me, me. You know what I mean. It's the answer you give when someone asks you what you're doing in life. It's your work or your hobby, your current reading list or your travels. It's the way you contribute to the world.

I dubbed this phase of my life "the disappearance of Neva." And it was hard (she says with deep gratitude for having the great privilege of taking the inward journey).

In a world where extroverts and over achievers are idolized, I retreated and under achieved. And in that place, I reviewed my belief systems, unraveled my soul contracts and grappled with actualizing my potentiality.

I went through many stages: depression, despair, fear, confusion, then ease and grace, freedom, and comfort.

When I got to comfort, I knew it was time to shift, to take the next steps of quantum leaping.

The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
Don’t go back to sleep.
You must ask for what you really want.
Don’t go back to sleep.
People are going back and forth across the doorsill
where the two worlds touch.
The door is round and open.
Don’t go back to sleep.

- Rumi

And so, through all of the micro discoveries along the way, I am in touch with the core competencies that are being asked of me. Of course, the "call" has been streaming through the mythic story of my life for as long as I can remember. I am awake. And there is work to be done.

I Garden

Shovel in hand, I am working the abandoned garden beds, digging and turning, pulling and crumbling. I feel the sun touch a sliver of skin that is exposed between the top of my pants and the bottom of my shirt. I think of very little. Right here, right now, I’m just living one shovel full of dirt at a time.

I stand up straight and walk up and down the beds examining the relationships between them, how straight they are, and where I will dig next. And then it occurs to me: I could never have said YES to this opportunity to grow food (a long time dream), if I had been successful in registering for the Danskin Women’s Mini-Triathlon.

At the time, I was pissed (see “I Surrender” post). I kept filling out the online form only to be dumped by their server each time I hit the submit button, until finally the event was sold out and I was left out. At the time, it was another failed attempt at fulfilling my 2008 plan.

But now, I am grateful. I let go and let goddess, and now I am in love with the soil, the sounds of the birds, and my tired muscles. I am talking about peas and red swiss chard, and exploring the virtues of peat moss and compost. I am a neophyte embracing a steep learning curve, but it’s not just about growing vegetables. I suspect the life metaphors I unearth will be as abundant as the summer squash in August.

You can check out my Growing with Vegetables blog if you want to read the more practical aspects of my gardening adventure.

I Surrender

Ya gotta love the mystery of life. I had been feeling completely thwarted in my efforts to fulfill some of my 2008 learning goals (see older posts). It seemed the universe kept saying NO to my carefully thought-out YESES and I was frustrated and puzzled. In the age of “intention” I thought I was a master. From imagining and feeling, to being proactive, I was in the business of manifesting my dreams, but now failing miserably. Feeling completely lost and untethered, I finally surrendered.

I gave myself permission to feel aimless, and as I deepened in to my liminal state, I began to trust the process. I started to see that my day-to-day life, all that was right in front of me, was my learning curriculum. And like a ray of sunshine blazing through the fog, it became clear that I was working on the second of my questions for 2008: How do we become more open, honest, and transparent with others? How do we trust and deal with our vulnerabilities so we can live, love, and work together effectively in community?

Of course, this is not how I imagined grappling with the questions. I saw teachers and circles, rituals and art; I pictured brainstorming skill sets and group processes. Silly me. It hasn’t been anything like that (yet). Instead, the terra firma or learning how to live with others in community has simply been by living my everyday life consciously.

I've learned that I need to cultivate the practice of being alone together if I am to thrive in community. I've learned how to witness another person's darkness without feeling burdened; how to be helpful and compassionate while maintaining healthy boundaries. My best tools turned out to be rigorous honesty and communication, and a willingness to look at my part.

And beyond all of the learning about community, there is the lesson of I surrender; the ability to let life unfold on life’s terms, and allowing my intentions to mingle with the deeper unconscious stirrings of my psyche.

Evolution

Wow. There is no way I could ever have predicted how 2008 would unfold. I titled this blog "Quantum Leap Year" because my intention was to design a learning curriculum that would help me dive deeper in to the mechanics of collective transformation and help me crystallize what my service to the whole would be as we head ever closer to 2012.

I was catapulted in this new direction by a month of mind-bending mystical experiences in September 2007 which gave me the courage to "leap." But as my normal life returned, I was left with the challenge of how live up to the conviction I felt in those moments of pure clarity.

I decided to write down a set of guiding questions as a way to fan the fading embers of my creativity. As articulated in a letter I wrote to Jean Houston's Mystery School requesting a scholarship, here are some of the questions I laid out for my 2008 quest:

1. If a quantum shift in human consciousness is inevitable (as I believe), then what are the skills we need as a species to navigate this Great Turning? Can experiences of non-consensus (non-ordinary) states of consciousness—an experience of suspended belief—be a helpful and even necessary tool for navigating unbelievable circumstances (extreme weather, economic crisis, resource depletion, water shortages, intense migration, etc.)?

2. Living in community feels like the only way we’ll be able to manage in the years to come. Given that belief, how do we become more open, honest, and transparent with others? How do we trust, deal with our vulnerabilities (rejection, fear, shame, etc.) so we can live, love, and work together effectively in community?

3. What role does imagination play in our collective/planetary transformation? I believe the muscle of imagination and visioning has atrophied in modern culture. How can we facilitate a massive reenlistment of imagination?

4. Given what I know, and what I have yet to learn, what is my unique contribution in the coming years?

The good news, I was awarded a partial scholarship (all they offer) and will participate in the 10 day program this August in Ashland, Oregon! A good sign indeed.

Community

The start of the year is bringing in to sharp focus the dance between intimacy and community. I suck at it. I don't know how to maintain a sense of deep connection with myself while movin' and grovin' with my loved ones. I guess this is why I tend to be more of a hermit, though I cherish the long and deep friendships in my life.

Just this past weekend, I went to visit someone I love who is in Yakima at a rehab for alcoholics. Wow. What a trip. I'm happy to say that he is doing pretty well despite this awful disease that has nearly destroyed his life. He's taking it one day at a time. But it was really hard to be there. There were so many families in such deep pain--generations of pain. I noticed I had to keep my distance from most folks and ultimately felt very disconnected to myself. Keeping others at energetic arms length took a lot out of me, though I believe getting close would have been harder. This is a problem.

Clearly, part of my quantum leap year will be learning how to maintain the connection with my self and creator-of-all-that-is (they seem to go together) while learning how to be more connected to others. I believe this is a skill that will be mandatory as we move closer to 2012 and beyond.