Are You a Watcher . . . or a Weaver?

medicinewheel_100_useOutside a slim moon hovers over the earth.  It sheds little light but holds its position firmly.  The moon knows that another time will come and it will once again widen its edges to send a dim and pretty light out over the world.

I am still coming down to my little writing studio—the warm weather has made it possible to stay here. No snow.  No extreme cold. Tonight I feel a little bit like that sliver moon.  Everything in me wants to see a world turn on its axis to a place where light wins out over darkness.  When I wrote Albert’s Manuscript, old Albert was telling me the story of how he was taken to another realm and shown the truth of it.  In this realm, the Elders showed him how a mighty wind would blow for a thousand years, and during this time, the people of earth would be blown from one nation to another, uprooted, tossed . . . landing in unknown places.

When I wrote this little book, I thought perhaps we were reaching the end of the wind of a thousand years.  And then Paris, the great migration–and today on the news I heard many of the governors across our nation speak out against allowing any refugees to enter their states.

The wind has not died down but may be reaching its hiatus.

Here is a little piece of Albert’s manuscript where he meets First Man and hears about the wind of a thousand years.

First Man

One day another tribe came from the south and attacked my family’s village. Their storm was violent and quick.  When the dust settled, my small body lay on the ground, broken, bloodied, sandwiched between the dead bodies of my parents and surrounded by my dead village. Death was all around. This event so shocked my young spirit that it left my body and fled to a high rock pinnacle above the dead village.  I perched there, staring down at the horrible sight below. I sat, still and unmoving, watching as the carrion birds and the wild dogs below cleaned the bones of my relatives.

For decades the sun rose and fell, and rose and fell until it had bleached the bones white.  Still, I sat. I didn’t know enough to travel alone to the ancestors and none came to claim me. It was not known to me until much later that this long period of stillness, perched and waiting, was my initiation into becoming a Watcher. I also didn’t know that in other parts of the world similar terrible events were unfolding and being witnessed by other Watchers across the earth.

The Wind of a Thousand Years had begun.

Eventually, the rock on which I perched began to grow. It rose so high above the earth that soon I could see other nations of people living on other lands. I could see far south into wet jungle lands and torrid areas. I could see north to frozen, icy lands where bands of people in small clusters were moving across snow and ice in their fight to survive the harsh land. I could see east and west across great bodies of water to other lands, and everywhere I cast my eyes, the people were moving; walking, walking out across the land. As my perch grew higher yet, my eyes could no longer see the bare bones of my parents but only the travelers which  I later came to know as The Walkers.

I no longer shivered, no longer curled into my spirit body but looked out upon the world.  As I looked out, I grew curious about the massive, moving bodies of people. I wanted to understand what was happening. My questions grew—just as yours have, Albert.

Finally, I stood high up on my rocky perch, raised my arms up to the heavens, and prayed. It was the first time in all the years of watching that I had asked the ancestors to show me what was happening.

And then, a miracle.

They came for me. The ancestors came and took me home–much the same as they came to get you, Albert, and for a similar reason—to teach me how to see. And how to interpret what I had seen so that one day, a thousand years later, I could tell you this story. 

A good friend of mine recently read Albert’s Manuscript.  He said when he finished the book he was wondering what now.  He felt the book wanted to do more, to take the ideas into action somehow.  In the story Albert learns about the four kinds of people, The Walkers, The Watchers, The Weepers, and the Weavers and that his (and our) job today is to help the Weavers learn to weave.

I want to explore this more within my next few posts. Sometimes a story has prophecy and wisdom embedded in it that we can’t always see until it is time. I want to put this knowledge into action somehow.  Stay with me and we’ll explore it together.

It was Albert’s story that generated The Bead People and their movement around the world.  An astounding 10,000 have already gone to over 40 different countries that we know of.  Maybe they have more work to do.  If you want to read Albert’s Manuscript, I finally did get it into print.  You can order it at





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Big Picture, Little Picture–Managing My Realities

little bead people imageOkay, so I let life overwhelm me once again. I’ve been working on several major projects and taking on more (what was I thinking?). It is harvest and canning season and the pump house still needs mud. What I’ve noticed about me is when the big picture gets too big, I have to go micro. My “therapy” for being too busy has been to work with drilling rocks, forming tiny bead people out of wire, attaching the wire, and . . . and . . . and

These little creative projects seem to be helping me find balance. When I am twisting a bit of wire, the huge systems I’m working with and their multiple issues seem to fade into background and even disappear for a while. What I realize is that every act is just a twist of the wire. In reality there are no small acts and big acts—there are only an endless stream of small acts that link and hook up and become big acts.

Working with big complex working systems has shown me a lot this past year. I see beautiful people acting in ugly ways. And the sad thing is that they don’t even realize that they are being ruled by the oldest part of the animal brain that only knows the very basic rules of survival. Eat or be eaten.

angstHere is what is on my mind. Do people realize how much energy they waste in focusing on other people, worrying about what may or may not happen, blaming others, wondering what people think of them, and holding anger and frustration when others don’t comply with their map of the world?

Do they see what all that wasted energy could become if directed into one small creative act? And then another and another and another.

A wise man once said, “The only thing we have to give is our own state.”

Milt would say I am beginning to ramble. When he reads one of my posts he likes the stories best. So here is a story.

Today I was in a room with about half a dozen key personnel for a very large organization. As I was working with them, I realized several patterns playing themselves out. I’ve been thinking lately about Virginia Satir, a great family therapist and systems thinker. In her body of work she identified or observed five ways people deal with the world. She called them “postures”. During the meeting today, I saw all five postures playing out in great detail before me.

Here they are. (I plan to play with drawing them into pictures sometime soon):

The Blamer: We have a problem and it is their fault. If they wouldn’t . . .

The Distractor: Uses jokes, laughter, and diversion to avoid looking at real issues.

The Placater: Wants everybody to be happy. (Not great when this person happens to be in a key leadership role.)

The Computer: Goes cerebral and/or into small technical details that nobody understands

The Leveler: This is the posture Satir wanted us all to aspire to. This person has clarity and congruence, is not afraid to ruffle feathers, looks at systems and not people, and has a solid core strength, etc.

If I had been a caricaturist it would have been fun to sketch that meeting with everybody in their designated “postures”. Of course I was trying to take the role of Leveler, but I make no claim to holding that posture in a sustained way—but I do aspire to.

I was completely aware of how amazing this group of people could be if they stopped holding so tight to those postures and began forming a real team that knows how to get things done in a good and fair way.

So, how to shift the tide of human thinking and acting. No small question. Guess I’ll just go and twist some wire, drill some rocks, and smile at the small and beautiful result. Let me know if you would like to wear one of my tiny creations–I’m thinking of changing careers and wandering the world like a tinker.

I am calling this new line of Bead People “Little Charmers.” They are very friendly!

As always, feel free to share this post and invite others to subscribe. I find it funny that my last post was on “Flow”. You may want to read that one, too.

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When Flowing is Knowing

Humming Bird
I am always curious about flow. What mysterious energies create that feeling of being in synch with everything around you—and what mysterious energies create that feeling of swimming upstream? Yesterday I felt like I was walking in mud. A meeting I had left me zapped. I needed a nap at 3:30. I had to force myself to walk outside and re-engage with my life in early evening. In my studio I stared at an empty screen and finally gave up and played solitaire.

Today, flow was back. I woke up feeling aligned with the greater energies somehow. I was accepted as a presenter at the fall MNADE conference. I got a new contract to write viewers guides for Vision Maker Media, and my second meeting (with the same people as yesterday) flowed and was productive. And I picked a handful of ripe tomatoes and did two loads of mud plaster.

So weird. Whatever energies are flowing around us are real. I no longer even try to attach language to whatever is driving flow, but I’m sure curious. I think if only I could capture its essence and stay in flow every single day, wouldn’t that be wonderful? But I suspect that flow is something that can’t really be “captured.” I remember many years ago reading The Teachings of Don Juan by Carlos Castenada. I was really taken by Don Juan’s description of how we can move our “assemblage point” to different parts of our bodies and as a result can have very different experiences. Without understanding this at all, it made perfect sense to me.

There is something surrounding us that I simply can’t explain or understand with my mind. It enters the realm of the unknowable. In fact, I actually distrust somebody who is too quick to explain it all in human terms. Past Lives. Akashik Records. Karma. Shakras. Animal totems, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Depression, Alpha Waves, etc.

I think we humans just feel more comfortable if we have some logical way to explain what doesn’t make sense to the brain/mind.

But the body knows. The body knows when rhythms are clicking and tapping together. The body knows when a nap is the only solution. The body knows when a relationship or situation is toxic to the spirit. The body knows.

sun dogsPerhaps one of the saddest developments of the past two thousand years is that we have come to rely more on the brain/mind than on the five senses or the body. Don’t get me wrong—I, as much as anybody, love the relationship I have with my brain/mind. We have a lot of fun together. We hang out and sling ideas around like old buddies. But there is a limit to what the brain/mind can do in terms of reading the subtler realms.

Reading the subtler energies, where flow and synchronicity take place, require periods of silence, introspection and reflection. They require a quiet mind and stillness. Time moves more slowly in this place. Perhaps time doesn’t exist at all—just pulse and echo and rhythm. I remember seeing this once and I have since stolen it and used it for my own well-being.

Be still and know that I am God

Be still and know that I am

Be still and know

Be still


One of the reasons that I love when the hectic pace of summer slides into fall is that I can feel a change in the Earth’s energies. She is not so frantic, not so busy growing and blooming and ripening. She grows quiet and begins to pull all of that wild energy back inside. She is making ready for the next spiral of life and death and growth and birth. Wow—isn’t She amazing?

Time for me to return to morning pages? To quiet time and reflection? Yes.

I’m curious—what do you do to bring that state of stillness and quiet to your life? Do you do it often enough? What keeps you from doing what you know will take you into this gentle realm?

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