A New Language for a New Worldview.


I sat in the theater watching the new movie Arrival with tears streaming down my face. I had been thinking since working on my dissertation about the birth of a new world. I knew it required a new language, but couldn’t seem to get beyond just knowing that, to understanding what it meant. In the movie they said when you immerse yourself in a new language you take on a new world view. The language in the movie was universal and not based in duality.

As part of my dissertation I explored some of the old Biblical stories as though they were dreams and discovered new meanings. One of the changes was an understanding that there never was a Fall. It became clear to me that changing our view of the old stories can change our perspective. It widens and deepens possible meanings to what we have been told. What impact does an inclusive language have as opposed to a dualistic one?

That statement alone reveals how inherent duality is in our language, since one is opposed to the other. In a language based on opposites, and opposition, there is tension and conflict. I worked on a dream with a friend yesterday and we talked about the tension of opposites that occurs in resistance. Once we soften that resistance, accept the resistance, and allow it, the resistance lessens and an integration can occur.

A dualistic perspective creates a worldview based on separation. This or that, us or them, defend and protect, victim and aggressor, good and evil. What would a different perspective mean to how we live and perceive the world? What would there be to fear if we saw the world as one that is good?

This isn’t a Pollyanna attitude in which we focus on and only affirm the “good,” and ignore the “bad,” but one in which we don’t judge anything one way or the other. An old Hermetic saying attributed to Hermes Trismegistus is, “As within, so without, as above, so below.” One possible meaning to this is that what we see in the outer world mirrors our inner world. The above and below may refer to a correlation between the spiritual and the physical, like Jesus’ comment that the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand.

If we accept the possibility that the outer reflects the inner, then what we perceive as other is some aspect of ourselves. When we are activated by what we encounter, it merely points to the places where we are out of harmony with the unitary principle. A place where we fall into separation. When we stop resisting something, our relationship to it changes. When we aren’t afraid, we can approach life with open curiosity and just witness what arises within us.

The soul is a witness

A post-exilic wonder

That stands firm and unshaken

Among the far-strewn rubble…

We can root ourselves in the inner stillness and silence and witness the transformation. When we stand in the truth of our being, undaunted by what falls apart, then something new can be born. I once heard that the caterpillar liquefies in the cocoon. That would be a total breakdown of the old constricting worldview. When the old way of perceiving ourselves and our world falls apart. Then, once the old has turned to rubble, an entirely new way of being, way of life, and a new self can emerge. A new language will be required to describe an entirely new world.



A Revolution of the Heart is at Hand.


We stand on the brink of an epochal shift in consciousness. Just as our forefathers stood on the steps of Independence Hall and proclaimed their independence from their Father, the King of England, we are on the cusp of a historically significant moment. Our forefathers sought freedom by the sword. Our freedom will not come by way of the warrior and fear, but by the cup of truth and love.

When the immigrants streamed by boat toward Ellis Island, they were greeted by a majestic woman who was lighting their way to a new life. She stood with a flaming torch in one hand and the Declaration of Independence in the other. There were broken chains at her feet and a halo around her head. She was in this world but not of this world.

The French gave us the Statue of Liberty because they felt a kinship with our revolutionary spirit, but they no longer felt war was the way to freedom. They had seen the result for themselves, how the oppressed had in turn became the oppressors. Lady Liberty’s artist made sure there were no traces of the warrior present in her image or countenance.

The inner structure of the statue is iron, the metal of Mars, the god of war. The outer surface of the statue is copper, the metal of Venus, the goddess of love. In mythology, the two unite and some stories suggest the product of that union was Eros, the god of love. The Statue is of a woman and although the structure that holds her up is associated with Mars, whom we know as the god of war, he was in fact originally known as the god the pagans worshiped in the spring when planting seeds.

The Romantics saw the results of the bloody French Revolution and turned to their pens to create a revolution. In the sixties, revolution was again the buzzword, with a desire to transform the warrior. Now the way is no longer through power at the point of a gun, but through the heart, which is reached through feminine consciousness, as the Statue of Liberty illustrates.

Fairy tales repeatedly show the feminine as evil or hidden, trapped and fearful. These cultural portraits of the collective symbolically represent what’s happening and how to rectify it. The masculine in these stories can be a Beast, frog, devil, or inept father who sacrifices his own daughter for gain. The Handless Maiden’s father, after cutting off her hands, tells her she can stay with him and he’ll always take care of her. She does not accept his offer and leaves her father’s house, as do many of the other heroines in fairy tales.

We need to leave the fear-based house of our forefathers. This house built on conflict must be replaced by one constructed on a foundation of peace and love. This house is created within. A revolution of the heart is at hand. We must set down our swords and walk a new path to freedom. The time of the warrior has passed. Now is the time for the Child of Love to be born.


First blog post

Seeing with New Eyes…


Kansas is a drab and colorless place. Aunt Em and Uncle Henry are gray, the house is gray inside and out, and the landscape is gray. There aren’t any trees, birds, grass, or water. All is sun-parched, flat, and devoid of any signs of life. The couple adopt Dorothy because they cannot have children.

Uncle sits on the front steps of the house, Auntie is inside, and Dorothy stands upon the threshold on the day the winds of change begin to stir. Now you might think those winds would come out of the East and West, where the Wicked Witches reside, but they do not. The winds come out of the North and South, the territories of the Good Witches, which suggests these transformational winds are motivated by the good.

The winds increase , Uncle senses the coming of a storm, and moves into action. He goes to the barn to prepare the animals. Dorothy walks inside as Auntie dives into the storm cellar, or what we might call the unconscious. As most of you know, Toto runs off and Dorothy chases him, when the tornado hits. The house is lifted off the ground, ascends high into the sky, and is carried far away to the inner land of Oz.

Dorothy is jolted awake when the house lands. She opens her eyes, stands up, walks to the door, crosses the threshold, and sees life in full technicolor. Babbling brooks, chirping birds, fruiting trees, the Munchkins and Good Witch. Dorothy has a new vision.

In depth psychology, we perceive stories as symbolically teaching us about life. I have taken some creative liberties here to make a point. We often, at one time or another, have a vision of what is possible for us. The vision may appear through what seems like a great difficulty. For Dorothy, it was when the house landed in Munchkinland that she got a glimpse of what her life could be like, which was the opposite of the way things were in Kansas, her outer life.

Visions can come in many ways. They can appear through story, dream, or imaginal occurrences. They may feel like deep longings for something that remains just beyond awareness. Dorothy has her vision in Munchkinland of what is possible, but cannot remain there. In order to realize her inner vision as the outer world, she has to make a journey. Everything that happens along the way is meant to assist her in uniting these two worlds. Every encounter, experience, and dream are taking us to the place Dorothy fondly calls Kansas, or home.

This blog will address a variety of experiences along this journey home to ourselves. There will be writings about dreams; stories, myths, and fairy tales; the divine feminine and Spirit; our truth; spirituality and material life; as well as our Selves. How do we continue to challenge old paradigms, stories, beliefs, and conditioning so that we might open to a life that is so much more than we are living? These and other topics will be explored as we journey for a time together on this path and remember, “There’s no place like home.”

What is your vision?