Tag Archives: Gaia

Fly toward your Joy!

This witness has been spreading her wings to check out areas of this country that had previously been hidden to me.

Most recently, El Juglador and I traveled to Miami, where much of my family lives, and have been experiencing different worlds within the one we had known before. Those experiences include questions I had never muttered before. What is causing cancers that were never prevalent before? Why are so many suffering from allergies they had never before experienced? How are birds echoing whistles we taught their brothers miles away? Why do we avoid asking about people we wish were not in our life? Why do we prefer to think only of ourselves? Why do people prefer to remember the person you used to be rather than the new person you are? Why does the matrix entangle us so much that we can’t do what we really want?

No matter, really. The person you become when you start thinking about your thinking IS. It is the part of you that can find your Joy.

Joy is not found in the things you do or the people you know. It can not be bought at a store or found in a treasure chest. True joy, the kind that validates the Why of living, is found by doing what burns in your soul. I have found that it can be found when you listen to that little voice within yourself, in your gut, in your God essence, and ACT on what your heart calls out. Are you really alive in your day-to-day life? If not, why are you living someone else’s Joy?

If you are living your truth, congratulations, my friend. Keep going strong in your Truth and stand up for yourself, even with well-meaning loved ones who don’t understand. Maybe your Joy can be contagious. Maybe one day we’ll all be living in Joy and Truth, truly understanding why we were placed on this Being known as Gaia, truly understanding the quantum entanglement of Life.

The birds can be your brothers, as can the dragonflies, the trees, that park bench made from former living trees, that vehicle created with a myriad of Gaia’s gifts.

Think about your thinking, my friends, then think about your actions, connect it with the saying, As Above, So Below, then aim a little higher, outside the 3D existence, into the 4th, maybe even the 5th.

Shoot for the moon, and if you miss, you’ll land amongst the stars.

… as for us, we’re on the road again… 

The Mystery of Trees

The philosophical writer Khalil Gibran wrote in The Shadow,

Upon a June day the grass said to the shadow of an elm tree, “You move to right and left over-often, and you disturb my peace.”

And the shadow answered and said, “Not I, not I. Look skyward. There is a tree that moves in the wind to the east and to the west, between the sun and the earth.”

And the grass looked up, and for the first time beheld the tree. And it said in its heart, “Why, behold, there is a larger grass than myself.”

And the grass was silent.

Step into Shasta
Camping on Mt. Shasta in October, 2014.

This earth existence is made up of fractals, a curve or geometric figure, each part of which has the same statistical character as the whole. If you study a tree, as Leonardo Da Vinci did, you will notice that if a tree trunk splits off into three main branches, each of those branches will be one third the size of the trunk and each 1/3 segment will, itself, split off into thirds again, each section is an exact replica of the parent section of the bigger tree. The fractals continue until the top, where the youngest branches will still be breaking into three sectional replicas of the bigger tree. Kind of awesome, if you ask me.

You see, I’ve always been in love with trees. As a child, I would get “lost” in the small key lime tree grove in our back yard. I would talk to the trees and to the butterflies until play time was over. A few years later, in another house, I would rake leaves under the big banyan tree in our back yard and flop under the branches to “meditate with nature” and catch up on my book reading.

As an adult, I longed for a home with trees, but Hurricanes Katrina and Wilma did a number on the two young trees at our townhouse in South Florida. I was never able to replace them. But I’m following trees now. My most recent fascination is the old cottonwood tree family I parked under in Farmington, New Mexico. The older two were over a hundred years old, but scattered under their branches were smaller family members. The owner of the trees told us that all cottonwoods are related, and, as we traveled back West to Chinle, Arizona, we again found a camping spot in a campground of cottonwood trees. I felt at home.

I’m in love with trees. I will often walk up to them, place my hand on their trunk, and talk of its massive beauty. Go ahead and call me Crazy Tree Lady! I’m never alone with trees.

Then I watched a recent video that’s blowing up YouTube, There are No Forests on Flat Earth Wake Up, by Людин Рɣси (I think he’s Russian because his accent reminds me of Star Trek’s Chekov.)

I will never see the Earth the same. The American landmarks he uses in this to illustrate his point are landmarks I’ve visited several times, Mount Shasta, the Petrified Forest, Monument Valley, heck, even the Hopi Mesas.

I remembered the story El Juglador and I wrote, The Parable of the Great Tree, and I felt a great connection with Mother Earth once more.

Once upon a time, the Monkey King sat at the peak of the Great Tree that reached into the clouds in order to commune with his eldest son.

“My son, you have grown of age. I must now tell you of your inheritance. This tree is our life force. Our family uses it for sustenance – its branches support us; its coverage protects us; its fruit nourishes us. But it needs us, as well. It is our function to protect it from parasites that threaten to kill. … (follow link for full blog.)

We’re beginning to wake up now, and, this morning on Mount Shasta again, I hear Gaia breathing a sigh.

The Dragonfly’s Writer



Hidden treasures

Tucked away behind a FedEx office in Flagstaff, Arizona, just past the garbage dumpster, two trees had grown up together, eventually braiding the two trunks into one tree.

“Do you suppose those are olive trees?” he asked. The fruits were bigger than the olives we buy off grocery store shelves, but I couldn’t say they weren’t olives. Everything about them told me he was right.twoolivetrees

Fortunately, we had internet service that day – something that has become a rarity in my life. I focused my phone on the trees, hoping to narrow the image down to get a better view, when I noticed the sun was
getting involved in our questioning. The image I got had sun rays cutting through the clouds and the branches so that the trees became glorious to me.
“These definitely have
to be olive trees,” I said. After all, the sun had gotten involved!

One quick Google search found the truth. Yes, these were olive trees.

There isn’t much more to this blog than the miracles of nature … two olive trees found each other on a hill in Flagstaff, Arizona, learned to grow together, and then, one rare rainy, summer day, are found by two humans when the light of the sun points them out between the showers of the day. On this day, El Juglador and I witnessed another beautiful revelation from Nature.

Pretty cool life I’m living!

Look for the miracles in your lives, my friends. Amazing things have been placed on this home I call Gaia, a living, breathing entity that is the mother of the life living on Earth. It’s up to us to witness her beauty and protect her whenever we can. After all, the Creator gave Her to us. It would be kind of rude of us not to notice the little gifts we’ve been given, don’t you think?

Much love,

The Dragonfly’s Writer



A note to my boys about my reality

Aang, the Last Airbender

Last summer, I rebelled from my reality. I went in search of my true self and claimed a Vision Quest was the way to best do it. In this reality in which I lived, though, my personal search was not “right.”

I had two sons, both in their mid-to-late teens at the time. I had a husband, although our goals had begun to change. I had a mother and father, a sister and brother, cousins and one remaining grandparent in this reality. I had a job teaching high school seniors. I had friends and coworkers.

But I was dying inside. I was trying to find happiness in the little things that could help me glue the puzzle of my reality together. But the glue was weak.

My mother and grandmother sensed something was wrong with me. I shrugged off their concern. “What? Me, depressed? Of course not. I’m the happiest person I know,” I said, insisting the unhappiness they sensed was because of the job or because of the political system or because my husband was still unable to find a full-time job after five years on the market. No problem, really. At least he published a novel and received an award for it.

No one knew the truth, though. Not even me.

What I learned during last summer’s rebellious break-out road trip was that I still loved God, despite the annoying, anti-human noise from “Religious” systems that profess love for God, but refuse to love their fellow man or even our planet itself!

I also found that I had so much to learn about myself and my connection with God.

When I was young, I would walk among the butterflies and talk to them. I would imagine walking with Jesus through a rose garden and filling my soul up from His fullness of being. I would see His love in the people around me and I knew the truth behind Namaste –

“I honor the place in you in which the entire universe dwells.

I honor the place in you which is of love, of truth, of light, and of pace.

When you are in that place in you, and I am in that place in me, we are one.”

But somewhere along the way, my life had changed. I’d lost that connection to Source. My Soul was screaming to get it back again.

And this is why this is a letter to my sons.

Dear boys,

I love you more than life itself. You know that. But there’s one thing that I love more, and that is my connection to my Higher Self and to my God.

I’m sorry I rarely forced you to sit down at church to listen to the word of God. Wil, you could always tell the fakers. Thomas, you seemed so trusting of others that I felt I had to protect you from the same harsh judgments that kept God out of my childhood.

But in hiding from my truth all these years, I wonder if you ever understood what really drives me.

I’m so sorry for not being honest with you. I hoped that the things we talked about helped you get a good idea of where I stood on things, but I never force-fed you my God. You see, I don’t believe in forcing God on anyone. When you need His guidance, you will find it within you.

God is love and peace and truth and authenticity. To me loving God means being grateful for the life I’ve been given and the beauty of nature. Loving God means standing up for those who can’t stand up for themselves. It means speaking out against Oil Drilling and Fracking and GMOs and Veal and, by now, for any farm-raised animal product. (I don’t eat meat at all, but you guys know that now.) It means representing for this planet, our only home, that many of us seem to take for granted thinking she is just as permanent as God.

So, my guys, I just have one more thing to tell you now that you are no longer little boys. You are men and can speak for yourselves. Now is the time for you to make your own paths. I know you are now self-proclaimed scientists. I beg you to open you hearts just a little bit more.

Remember the episodes of “The Last Avatar” we would watch on Friday nights when you were younger? Aang and Katara and I believe the same things about God and self and the world. The goal was to bring the four nations together in peace, despite each particular nation’s personal goals.

I believe very strongly in that reality and in the Source spirit they hinted at in the show.

How about the Pokémon world where Ash and his fellow trainers worked with the creatures they had captured and trained. I loved the way you learned about nature through Ash and his Pokémon. The creatures worked with Ash to help him. The Professors were all named after trees: Professor Oak, Professor Elm, Professor Juniper, and Ash, you both know, will one day be a professor, too.

In that world, the kids were safe and the goal seemed to be a balance of humanity and nature.

I believe very strongly in that reality.

How about when you wanted to play the guitar or the bass or the trumpet or the cello? (I took you to your lessons every week.) How about when you wanted to join the Boy Scouts and go camping? (We bought a tent and went to the Jamboree.) How about when your personal truth spoke louder than the lessons school tried to silence in you? (I spoke up for you being able to keep your authenticity!)

I believe very strongly that the fire in your soul is stronger than the lessons that try to quiet your truth.

So, as I continue to search for the truth in my own soul, I hope you have learned from the little lessons. I hope you never forget the goodness in Ash and in Aang, and I hope you will one day realize that what keeps you real, what keeps you true to the fire in your soul, is your connection to that God within you.

And that part of you is sacred.

I love you, guys. (And, yes, I’m crying, Thomas!)


The Dragonfly’s Student

A gift for the Hopi

As we near the end of this part of our journey, my teacher and I stopped to leave a gift for the indigenous peoples of Turtle Island.

On that day, El Juglador played on the location of the Four Corners Monument. Tourist note, our turn took less time than the six pictures posed for by a family who went while we waited! 🙂

Please enjoy El Juglador’s version of The Wayfaring Stranger.The Wayfaring Stranger

The Wayfaring Stranger

I’m just a poor wayfarin’ stranger,
While travelin’ through this world below.
Yet there’s no sickness, no toil, nor danger,
In that bright land to which I go.
I’m goin’ there to see my Father.
And all my loved ones who’ve gone on.
I’m just goin’ over Jordan.
I’m just goin’ over home.
I know dark clouds will gather ’round me,
I know my way is hard and steep.
But beauteous fields arise before me,
Where God’s redeemed, their vigils keep.
I’m goin’ there to see my Mother.
She said she’d meet me when I come.
So, I’m just goin’ over Jordan.
I’m just goin’ over home.
I’m just goin’ over Jordan.
I’m just goin’ over home.


The Dragonfly’s Student

The Parable of the Great Tree

Once upon a time, the Monkey King sat at the peak of the Great Tree that reached into the clouds in order to commune with his eldest son.

“My son, you have grown of age. I must now tell you of your inheritance. This tree is our life force. Our family uses it for sustenance – its branches support us; its coverage protects us; its fruit nourishes us. But it needs us, as well. It is our function to protect it from parasites that threaten to kill.

“As is foretold, you must set out on your own before you can become king of your own tree. Along the way, there will be challenges. You will encounter danger, you will find friends, you will grow hungry. I ask you only to not take the fruit of the tree that is meant to nourish your brothers and sisters. Feed off the parasites that endanger our home and of the ripened fruit that has fallen to the ground.

“You are meant to be a great king, but you must prove yourself first.”

The Gingko biloba tree is a living fossil dating dating back 270 million years.

The prince bid farewell to his mother and his brothers and sisters, setting out on his own journey.

He descended the tree when the sun’s rays dawned at the ends of the forest. His first challenge came soon.

Woodpecker perched on a branch and considered the trunk near his branch before finally drilling his beak into the bark.

The prince interrupted.

“Hello, my friend.”

Woodpecker stopped his work, tilting his head toward the prince.

“Why are you pecking at our tree?” the prince asked.

“I peck because I am hungry,” said Woodpecker.

The monkey prince remembered the importance of this tree to his family’s survival. He knew Woodpecker was harming the tree. “My dear friend, this tree is home and nourishment to my family. Could you not find another tree on which to feed?”

“I know no other tree,” said Woodpecker. “To find another I would have to become an explorer, and I am not an explorer. I am a woodpecker.”

“Then join me on my journey. I seek a new tree to call my own kingdom. I would appreciate company along the way.”

Woodpecker cocked his head in thought at the prince’s proposal.

“We will eat of the parasites and the fruit on the ground, but we will need to protect this tree.”

Woodpecker knew this journey would be a different life than the one he had known until then. He wondered if he would be able to survive changing the journey in which he had grown comfortable, but, being a young male, the unknown attracted him, and he joined with the prince.

The second challenge came when the sun had reached above the treetop.

“I am hungry,” Woodpecker said. “Couldn’t I just drill right here for some sustenance?”

The Prince felt a rumble in his stomach and understood Woodpecker’s dilemma.

“I am sorry, but this tree feeds my family. We must not damage her lifeforce.”

Woodpecker clicked his beak in frustration, but remembered the agreement he had made with the prince.

“How about this fruit.” He landed on a branch that held a tuft of flowering branches that were too young to sustain his weight securely. “I know it is a little green, but it is still nourishment.”

The prince remembered his little brothers and sisters and knew that they would enjoy this fruit when it, and they, had matured. He did not want to rob his brothers of their fruit.

“We cannot feed from the fruits of others, dear friend. We must seek our own.”

Woodpecker knew this was true, for he had brothers and sisters of his own on the branches of this tree.

The two friends continued on their journey, eating only of the bugs and other parasites that threatened the tree and its fruit.

The sun dropped under the tree tops and the next challenge approached.

“It is time to rest, my friend,” the Monkey Prince said.

Woodpecker shook his head sadly. “I cannot, my friend, for I have not made my home. I have promised I would not drill into this tree, and that is where my kind sleep. We need protection from our predators.”

The Monkey Prince realized this was true. In protecting his tree, he had endangered his friend.

“I am truly sorry, my friend,” he said. “I must accept the truth that this tree is meant to share. You are allowed to burrow into this tree. I only ask that you not harm her too much.”

Woodpecker did as he was allowed, and slept soundly as the prince slept in the leafy branches. In the morning, the pair fed off the parasites Woodpecker had uncovered while making his nest. He did not feel bad for breaking into the tree, for he knew that Nuthatch would burrow into that hole after he left and protect the tree from parasites that may attack in his absence.

Monkey Prince and Woodpecker continued their journey, leaping from branch to branch, removing parasites along the way, until they came upon Squirrel, who had traveled down the trunk behind them.

“Hello, friend Squirrel, why are you here?” Monkey Prince said, for he remembered him from his childhood on the higher branches. “Is all as it should be among my people?”

Squirrel twitched his furry tail and smiled. “My friend, all is fine at home,” he said. “I have come to share in your quest, for I, too, seek to start a new life. I know you will need company to help you keep your new home healthy and strong.”

The prince embraced Squirrel and introduced him to Woodpecker. “We will make a fine home for ourselves, my friends.”

The fourth challenge approached as they traveled into the late afternoon. They grew hungry but did not eat because of the agreement they had made with the Monkey Prince.

A soft mist shrouded the sunlight as they neared leafier lower branches, which were so tightly woven as to hide the light that bathed the upper branches. In fact, there was so much coverage that the sun had been having trouble breaking through to nourish the lower branches. Some of the leaves were beginning to wither, and the fruit his brothers would expect as they grew was less than it should be.

“If these leaves continue to overgrow, they may harm lower branches and Great Tree’s health,” Monkey Prince noted the problem. “I believe we must pause to nourish ourselves on these leaves,” he said. “We must each select a branch and eat only every seventh leaf.”

As Squirrel and Monkey Prince busied themselves picking every seventh leaf on the tree, Woodpecker found nourishment off the leaking tree sap coming from a hole his father had drilled the year before.

When they had completed their task, the now-visible setting sun danced through the mist in a myriad of colors.

“I am ready to rest, my friends,” said Monkey Prince. “Will you be able to find safety for the night?”

“I have found an abandoned nest my father drilled years ago,” Woodpecker said. “I will be safe for the night.”

Squirrel, too, was prepared. “I have saved every seventh leaf I gathered. Some I ate. With the other leaves I built a nest. I will be safe,” he said.

Knowing all would be right for the night, Monkey Prince settled onto a sturdy branch. In the morning, he was awakened by Raccoon scuffling his way into the branches.

“Good morning, friend,” said Monkey Prince, stretching his long arms over his head in a yawn. “What wakes you so early?”

“I am not waking, but returning to rest,” said Raccoon, “for I am a night creature coming home from a long night of exploration. What brings you here?”

“We are also explorers,” said Monkey Prince. “We seek a new tree in which to build our homes and share in its existence. Would you be interested in joining us?”

“Oh, yes,” Raccoon said, “but I must rest first. I will find you when I explore tonight. In which direction will you be heading?”

Monkey Prince thought hard about how to guide his new friend. Just then, a fruit dropped from a nearby branch, bounced off others and finally settled on the ground, giving birth to an idea.

Knowing there would be more fruit on the ground, he said, “You will be able to follow the seeds we will plant on our journey.”

Satisfied, Raccoon curled into his nest. Monkey Prince woke Woodpecker and Squirrel. “We will be traveling on the ground now. We will need to find a suitable home in a proper tree,” he said, but we must make certain to set a path for my new friend Raccoon. The friends agreed to plant seeds at a set distance from each other.

Once on the ground, they fed from the fruit that had fallen to the ground before setting off on their journey. Then they followed the shadows of the trees, planting seeds in sunny areas as they had agreed.

In one sunny area, they found Green Snake sunning himself on a rock.

Curious, Monkey Prince woke him.

“My friend, I wonder if you can help,” he said. “Would you happen to know of a tree similar to this one where we can make our new home? We would be willing to share with you once we have settled.”

The snake coiled himself on his rock, made cautious by the intrusion. “I know of many trees,” he said, the word ending in an elongated hiss.

The others were hesitant because of their experience with snakes, but Monkey Prince persisted, his mood brightened by the snake’s admission. “I am looking for one similar to this one, but this one is my uncle’s home.”

The snake uncoiled itself and slithered to the tree’s roots. He slipped over and around the tree, returning after a short while.

“I know this tree,” he said. “I have sniffed the sap on others. You will have to travel a distance, but I believe it suits your purpose.”

Unable to follow at their pace, Snake pointed out the direction they must travel and promised to meet them at their new home. He, too, took the oath the others had made to only feed off what he must, and no more.

Woodpecker flew ahead to verify Snake’s information and returned to continue the journey as his friends’ guide.

After several days of traveling to the outskirts of the forest, they were awakened by a sweet-smelling mist one day. The Monkey Prince recognized the scent carried in the breeze. The tree was found that day, and, indeed, it was a fine home. The roots were healthy, the leaves plentiful, yet, not too crowded, and the strong trunk seemed to tickle the bottoms of the clouds.

The friends celebrated with a feast of fallen fruit, seeds, and parasites before settling into their new homes. There were truly enough limbs for each of them, including Raccoon and Snake, who made certain to do no unnecessary harm.

Over the years, the friends found mates and raised families that shared the fruits of the tree – its branches supported them; its coverage protected them; its fruit nourished them. They also did their part, protecting their home from parasites that threatened to kill.

One day, the Monkey King who had been the Monkey Prince sat at the peak of the Great Tree that reached into the clouds. His task, as had been his father’s before him, was to commune with his eldest son.

“My son, you have grown of age. I must now tell you of your inheritance. This tree is our life force. Our family uses it for sustenance – its branches support us; its coverage protects us; its fruit nourishes us. But it needs us, as well. It is our function to protect it from parasites that threaten to kill.

“As is foretold, you must set out on your own before you can become king of your own tree. Along the way, there will be challenges. You will encounter danger, you will find friends, you will grow hungry. I ask you only to not take the fruit of the tree that is meant to nourish your brothers and sisters. Feed off the parasites that endanger our home and of the ripened fruit that has fallen to the ground.

“You are meant to be a great king, but you must prove yourself first by retracing the steps of your ancestors, traveling through the maze that gives us life.”

The prince bid farewell to his mother and his brothers and sisters, setting out on his own journey, for what was, will be again in the great circle of life.

Pausing brain overload

Lately, all I can do is study. I’ve learned I’m not the only one going through the motions of awakening. I’m not the only one questioning the world in which I live. The more I learn, the more I want to learn. The more I read, the more I want to read. One book leads to another website to another book which I approach voraciously.

Sometimes, though, I feel like a robot on overload.

But I can’t stop.

I feel like maybe, just maybe, the next book will be the lesson that makes it all fall into place. I can’t stop. Not yet, I plead. I need to know more.

I feel my tires wearing thin, but I’ll change them later. Now I have to keep driving forward.

Then a voice steps in.

“Breathe,” she says. She’s at peace. The image I get is of Pocahontas sitting cross-legged on a flat stone in the forest.

Breathe,” she repeats, her voice soft and molodic in its peace.

This being is not a mystery. She is not something outside of me. She is my Higher Self, in a way. I call her Me 2.0. The other me, the one who’s obsessed with studying, she’s Me Beta version.

I listen to Me 2.0 and stop reading.

I know she’s right. I need to give the new information a chance to take root and grow or wither. My obsessive learning is sowing seeds that aren’t given a chance to settle into the fertile earth and grow.

It’s time to breathe.

Maybe a trip to the beach or the Everglades will help. No internet, no books. Just the sun warming my skin and the wind blowing gently around me.

Yes. I can feel the weekend approaching now.

Peace to you, my friends.

The Dragonfly’s Student

Sometimes, Mother Earth calls me to take a moment to simply breathe.