Reflections on power and powerlessness in the shifting paradigm

Difficult spiritual journeys are like exercise

I am taking a class by the Intuitive Astrologer and holographic intuitive, Robert Ohotto. It is part of the membership he runs which I joined last month. The class is on Power and Powerlessness.

I reflected today, as I listened to the teaching, about the times I feel powerless and what my typical reactionary behaviors are.

I admit that when I am subconsciously triggered by outside events, it definitely shows up in my finances a lot of the time. It also shows up in wanting to control things which are out of my control.

Yesterday, I recognized too late that some part of me was triggered about summer being cancelled. It had been building for a while and I guess I just didn't pay close enough attention. Summer the season, is most definitely not cancelled, it has been 90 degrees most of the week.

What I am referring to are the get-togethers, events and festivals that keep me entertained.

Cancellations

Actually, a lot of things are cancelled or postponed. We were just sent a survey for the St Paul Curling Club last week to submit to them about our plans for the upcoming curling season.

Honestly, it doesn't look particularly good. Now this is a sport that I get a lot of joy from, exercise and camaraderie with people most of whom I have known for over ten years. Last year, I took over a team and became a skip for the first time. It was challenging and we only had one win for the season, which may or may not have been a fluke.

Anyway, I have had many wins in curling, even going all the way to the 1st event finals of a tournament. As a first year skip, I was not expecting to pull off a miracle.

Nevertheless, I looked forward to the respite from the long Minnesota winters, drinking beers, going to weekend long bonspiels and tons of laughter.

It became clear as I completed the survey that business as usual was already not possible. It is not a socially distant sport. Even if the club does 50% capacity and we trade-off weeks and sit far away from each other, it seems so much will be lost. It is also not clear if masks will be required, what might happen if someone tests positive and if we can even stomach the epidemic breaking out in the club.

My team

I reached out to my teammates to gauge how they were feeling. These ladies were willing to play under an untrained skip for an entire season with lots of free beer involved (the winning team in curling purchases beer for the loser). However, the thought of coming to the club with no vaccine for a virus that may ramp up again during flu season was just too much.

One of my ladies, a retired nurse had a loss in her extended circle and another relation on life-support. A different teammate had a grandkid on the way. We also weren't clear we could all afford to financially sustain the club by paying dues for a season we don't have - a suggestion made in the survey.

The grief for me over the entire sordid mess just crept up on me slowly. I thought I was handling it all. I wasn't.

Covid knocks the wind out of just about everything

I had lost so quickly all the outlets for what I considered my rejuvenation, my friendship circles, my events such as music or festivals that I attended. My world suddenly felt small and constricted. The virus, if you catch it affects your breathing.

Existentially we all can't really breathe. That has been the summer theme, I suppose. The theme for all of 2020, let's get real. George Floyd, was stopped from breathing by a cop. People we know got Covid and passed away, their lungs unable to sustain their lives.

Here I am worried I'll be alone in my apartment for a year or more, and hardly see anyone. No hugs or touch. No smiling faces. Laughing at my own jokes because no one is around to share them with me.

Collective powerlessness

Robert was talking about how mask wearing, for some people is the small token they use to express their general sense of powerlessness in their lives. It is easier to throw a hissy fit at a clerk in the store who won't let you in, or go on social media and brag about not wearing a mask than it is to sit in our feelings and admit the truth.

Our society has spent way too long finding ways of escaping feelings -drugs, alcohol, sex, food, endless vacations and politics. Maybe wearing a mask is like a door to feelings we simply aren't willing to touch.

Personal powerlessness

My budget was tight this week, I knew I shouldn't go out. But I went out anyway - several days in a row. My inner dialogue involved something like - it is warm out, the patios are open, I just want to breath some fresh air. I deserve to have a break after work.

I immediately became over-extended and unfortunately debted again. A thing I hadn't done since February.

The cosmic forces - internally and externally - force us to look at our shit. If you act from powerlessness it will have an immediate karmic effect. We don't get a break just because we're nice.

No one is perfect

Perfection isn't the game here. One day at a time.

I feel sad. If I do curl, it won't be with the same team. I may not curl at all. The club may not sustain itself without regular corporate gigs, tournaments and 100% capacity. I may have to take up ice skating or go back to my scrapbook projects.

I guess I will become real friendly with my budget and my finances. I will try to look at summer in a different light - it isn't all about me or a patio, I suppose. We're all not breathing the way we'd like. We're going to have to find new ways to heal and sustain each other. Drinking beers in a crowd probably isn't where power is best manifested.

Winter will be really quiet. We may have to enjoy walking alone in the snow instead of sitting around a table talking about our curling shots.

Power

I suppose in the days ahead, as I continue with the material presented in Robert's class, I will need to consider in my heart where my true power really lies. Is it posting on social about Covid and racism? Is it scrubbing my life for places I have acted unintentionally and sustained white supremacy? Is it writing?

I am not sure yet what 2020 is asking of me. I know it is exacting and difficult. Projects start and stop. People I'd hoped to resolve issues with have disappeared. Others are busy social distancing or doing their own thing.

The fall is unlikely to bring the fun events we all look forward to like the start of the curling season. We may lose more than we gain this year. It could be anything from our health, to our family members to the elections. We're going to be asked to face power and powerlessness over and over again.

What will you choose to do with your own journey with this material? I can speak from personal experience and say, it sure isn't letting me off the hook!

If you need someone to talk to as a coach or you want to try an Akashic reading on your situation, or to find a way to formulate a life that feels more authentic and real, look up some of my services. Any one of them may be something that helps you move through the material towards this new world, now forming.

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Old-timey hobbies are new again with Covid lockdown

Letters from Home 1992-1993

I took up scrapbooking as a creative means to tell the stories around my plethora of photos – back when cameras had real actual film in them as a matter of course.

I’d take my film reel to the local drugstore and wait what seemed like an extra-long time (like an hour or a week) to get the shots developed. Then they would end up in a pile in a drawer.

At some point in the late 90s, I discovered what was then a growing company called Creative Memories, based out of Minnesota. They distributed their wares through a network of consultants who made money selling products. I soon joined their ranks and my collection of scrapbook materials got out of hand quite quickly.

So did the number of projects I had going at any given time!

Some of the albums turned out to be nice works of art, others were more for show at the parties thrown to hawk products. I wasn’t particularly good at selling products and my business as it were, did not really turn a profit.

At some point, life and time got in the way of my scrapbooking and I canceled the business subscription. I’d move all the supplies with me from California to Minnesota in 2010. I never even had the time to look in the bags or pull-out the supplies (the ones I didn’t give away when trying to pare down my belongings for the move).

Creative Memories went through a bankruptcy and practically disappeared as the changing landscape of digital cameras, cellphones and social media hit their bottom-line.

Fast forward to 2020 and a pandemic changed the world forever. We were all stuck inside and my distractions like events, curling, festivals, get-togethers, and bars were all shut down or canceled.

I moved into my own apartment again in October 2019 after several years in a practically homeless state. It was nice to start organizing and decorating, really making a home. As a result, I unearthed my scrapbooks and supplies from a toppled over pile in the corner and put everything away in cabinets. I took the time to go through my old albums and laugh at some of the stories I wrote to go with the photos. You really should read about that scary encounter with hikers in the Grand Canyon!

My only regret from making fancy albums from my photo collection was that I couldn’t easily scan the photos to share on TBT (Throwback Thursday) on social media. Still, I was looking for creative outlets now that I was home all the time. Could I get back into this old hobby?

That is exactly what I did. I started with one of my unfinished, 10-year-old projects. Another blast from the past was the collection of handwritten letters I received while on my Junior Year Abroad program at Lancaster University in the United Kingdom. Other than physical photos, we also used to write on paper as the main form of communication, especially long-distance. We used stamps.

One night, I grabbed the album pieces, letters, and cards and just started adding them to blank pages with the occasional colorful decoration or sticker.

I found it relaxing and entertaining to read through the letters. I remembered the rather singular focus I had on making friends with recalcitrant Brits and all the boys I liked from afar because I was too intimidated to do anything about them. The usual immaturity of a 19-year old who was not as sophisticated as her peers.

Not all the letters were happy ones though. I got into a vociferous argument with my cousin in Canada. And my folks were often preachy about my drinking at pubs or plans I had for the future. Sometimes my friends at school in Santa Cruz, California would use the opportunity of the long-distance letter to give me a detailed, TMI account of their boyfriends and family spats. My mother was in nursing school at the time, so I learned a lot about anatomy and bodily fluids.

Nevertheless, letters from my now deceased grandparents and the almost forgotten art of letter writing – including but not limited to drawings on envelopes and enclosed glitter -- are a part of my story and my history. The format is perhaps sadly gone the way of the Dodo bird and I’ll never relive my teens or college years, so it will be nice to page through the albums as I grow older.

I am still working on the last few months of that year. Next up, completing the (also 10-year plus old) album of my time as a grad student at the University of Miami. Now THAT is a story! One bonus, I discovered during this process -- Creative Memories was in fact not dead, just reformatted. I can get supplies and carry on the tradition of scrapbooking.

If curling at the Saint Paul Curling Club does get canceled due to Covid in the fall, I can see I will be keeping myself busy on my projects.

#scrapobooking #personalhistory #photos #photoalbums #stories #journey #memories #creativememories #cameras #storytelling #authenticity #fun #hobbies #Covid19 #lockdown #stufftodo

Reflections on 2020 so far, a year of upheaval and change

I started off 2020 with a new job in downtown Minneapolis, as an assistant PM to a Senior staff member. Then a month in, she abruptly left, and I suddenly found myself in charge of a disorganized, chaotic mess of a project that was sorely behind schedule. had to learn the course development business from the ground up, build business relationships necessary to complete the project components and lead project groups through an extreme makeover.

It was intense.

But hey, we were still curling and having fun on weekends. Until Covid 19 became a thing, seemingly overnight even though that wasn’t quite true. Let’s face it the entire country was in denial unless you were on the coasts. I remember my last day commuting to work before we were all sent home. It was a ghost-town in Minneapolis and the busses were empty of commuters like a scene in a strange dystopian nightmare.

At that point, in March we thought it might be a few weeks to a month, tops. Boy, were we wrong. I very quickly had to spend money getting a new desk chair, since the one I had was sorely inadequate for eight to nine-hour stints and was falling apart. Moreover, I had to get used to long periods of time at home - alone. The curling season canceled, and the staff turned off the ice machines, several months early.

In the early days of the lockdown, I would double-time with my Instacart business sometimes pulling in almost $500 a week. I didn’t shower as much, and my body hair started growing out – everywhere. I didn’t wear make-up. I just didn’t care. Most of us joked about how infrequent we were showering.

Then just as we started re-opening states, despite the fact that maybe it was a bit too early, George Floyd was murdered at the hands of a group of cops on a training outing with a senior officer. It was filmed by a young teenager. All of a sudden, Minneapolis was on the world stage as outrage gave way to expressed chaos- burning buildings, protests, looting, National Guard, curfews…

The beginnings of something we still can’t truly fathom, generated from one act of violence that represented the sum-total of systemic racism, police brutality and 400 years of white supremacy.

Buildings toppled, police disbandment processes began, statues representing slavery and racism came down and a new dialogue about how we consciously or unconsciously contributed sprung up on social networks and real life.

These movements were predicted by archetypal astrology and I took several courses presented by the intuitive astrologer Robert Ohotto to begin to understand the wider cosmic forces at play, represented by the tableau I lived each day.

The intensity of walking down my street in St Paul, Minnesota lined with National Guard one week and boarded up against looters while grappling with the personal and emotional implications was exacting. I really had to look deeply at my own complacency in some areas while listening to the stories of others in my networks who were both directly and indirectly affected.

As the protest movement spread from the source, where I lived, to the rest of the world, it became clear that this was neither going to go away swiftly nor be some quiet revolution but instead change was happening on a global scale, and quickly. The one world consciousness, Robert spoke about in class was a real event, a new dawn.

What did my psychic reader say, earlier in 2020? "It is the year of the rat. It is not going to be easy and I don’t know if anything will work out the way we think it should." Great, I thought at the time. Little did I know the depth of her prediction.

We’re halfway through, and there is no end in sight to the turmoil, as another wave of Covid threatens additional lockdown measures in some states. And we aren’t even into the flu season yet! My esthetician, who I finally saw on Saturday, to remove the vestiges of what will now be known as the “Granola Period,” was absolutely prepared for another round of lockdowns in the fall.

We aren’t even bothering with rosy pictures or high-minded positivity. We know better.

I doubled down on my healing work and trauma therapy – what else do you do with your time when everything is shuttered? It became a fruitful time for coming into my own, I suppose. My obsession with decorating my living room knew no bounds. Each paycheck I would add to my collection of living room furniture and organize my crap, which was still piled in the corner from my October move.

Something about getting my environment in line with my LifeBook vision, gave me solace from the remote and quiet lifestyle I’d suddenly been catapulted into. The uncertainty and unknown could somehow be tamed with a new floor carpet and an organized kitchen.

At one point we had six planets in retrograde with Venus being a doozy and now Mercury adding flames to our communication systems. All I can say, is you best be on your toes with self-assessment and a willingness to do the deep inner work of transformation in the crucible of 2020.

If you aren’t conscious about it, it will certainly take you kicking and screaming.

In the meantime, it seems most of us are getting used to life lived by hand sanitizer and masks, social distancing and new methods of connecting virtually for everything from work meetings to personal gatherings. We’re actively pursuing cleaning up our behavior, language and systems of authority.

And the rest of world bitches and complains about those things…2020 continues. We’ll see how the second half unfolds.

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