Out of the Chrysalis

Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over,

it became a butterfly.

(unknown)

Photo: Out of the Chrysalis; © 2008 by MJohnson.

I moved to Colorado hot on a trail of golden synchronicities. It defied all logic, really—this new path—and it didn’t sit well with my left-brained world. Still, I couldn’t ignore the signs. They were everywhere.

Having felt the first seismic tremors shaking the foundations of my life, I was looking for answers: What did it all mean? Where was I going? Would I be okay? Everything felt upside down. I felt the need for big change; but what? A lifelong passion for writing and helping others burned hot in my soul, but how could I parlay my law degree into a life of creativity outside-of-the-box? I was hearing a call of purpose, faint, at first, then louder; but I was afraid to listen because any change would create a domino effect in my life—geographically, financially, and emotionally. What if I got it all wrong?

Curiously, I found myself searching the Internet for mountain homes. Peaks and valleys have always inspired me. That’s when I saw it—an ad on Craig’s List for a beautiful mountain home in Golden, Colorado. It simply said: YOU WILL FALL IN LOVE . . . and I could see from the photos that I would. I could just see myself writing my first book in one of those sunny rooms. It was in my price range, too. But where the heck is Golden, Colorado? I wondered. Overwhelmed, I put it aside.

The next day, during a random conversation with a practical stranger, this man said to me, “Your opportunity for 2006 is GOLDEN.” What? Then later that afternoon I went online to order my first set of artists’ paints, and when I clicked on the link for “acrylics,” a huge tube of paint filled the screen, bearing the brand name GOLDEN. My whole body straightened with awareness. The next day, as I sat patiently in my window seat, waiting for our plane’s departure to NYC, I saw a very large truck parked exactly beside of my window with the words “GOLDEN TRANSPORTATION” painted on its side. Later, when I checked my e-mail, I found that I was now, mysteriously, a subscriber to an e-newsletter for writers and artists called the “GOLDEN THREAD.” And by week’s end, I arrived home to find a package from my grandmother in the post, containing a piece of her antique china with the words “GOLDEN HEIRLOOM” painted on the bottom. On and on it went for more than a month—golden synchronicities at every turn—meaningful only to me; until, finally, I got it. “Okay, okay—I hear you,” I said. The next day, I called the realtor. And a month later, I flew to Colorado to look at property.

I didn’t buy the house in Golden. It was a lovely home; really, it just felt all wrong for me. But I did find the most amazing place just beyond the town limits of Nederland. I stepped into the mud room and, immediately, I knew why I had been drawn to the area—this land as my creative muse. And I was right. Within a few months I moved to Colorado and began the process of reorganizing my life—starting all over again—in spite of my fear of the unknown; in spite of the inconvenience of change.

The past three years have been challenging, no doubt—fears naturally arise during intense periods of growth and change—but I have been excited and inspired in ways that I never knew possible, expanding my world again and again: writing, photographing wildlife, painting, volunteering, creating, connecting with myself, nature and the spirit world. Inspiration is a wonderful instrument of change. Through it, the mind expands in every direction, breaking all self-imposed boundaries and limitations, and brings with it the sweet taste of freedom.

My friend Karen calls my house a chrysalis. I can’t think of a better metaphor.

Consider the life of a butterfly. From an egg that’s the size of the head of a pin hatches this furry little caterpillar. When the time is right, without any promises of safety or guarantees of survival, she follows the call of her DNA and moves into the darkness of her self-made chrysalis. Then her real drama begins, as her tissues completely break down and reorganize multiple times, moving between different consistencies of goo, before finally restructuring into a beautiful butterfly. Assuming she survives this phase, which can take as long as several months, she will break through her chrysalis to freedom. Still, she must find a place to dry her wings in the sun because they’re paper thin and wet from being wrapped so tight in the cocoon. But there’s good news: Studies show that the more a butterfly struggles when emerging from the chrysalis, the longer its life span. And when you consider that the average life of an adult butterfly is two weeks, every second counts.

Transformation is serious business! It has been said that the vast majority of what we are is impossible to see or touch, and that our willingness to transform—to move beyond our form into something greater—is the key to living our best life. When things aren’t working and we’ve outgrown our skin, or a greater purpose reveals itself, we hear the mysterious call to step into the unknown—to trade all that we are for what we might become. That can be painful and scary but incredibly rewarding.

Like the caterpillar, I have followed the calling of my heart into worlds unknown. And, more often than not, I have found a trail of sparkling synchronicities pointing me this way and that, supporting my thoughts and actions, like road signs on a long journey.

Today, as I look out from my mountain perch, I see that each choice, each move, each soulful longing and new pursuit brought me one step closer to the freedom that I cherish. Now, having grown into new levels of myself, once again, I hear the call . . .

As I emerge from the chrysalis.

By Melissa Johnson

BE THE BEAR . . .

Animals are great teachers, it is true; especially for those willing to open their hearts and minds to the greater lessons on how to live and thrive in our two-legged world.

Look deeper than an animal’s biology and connect with its essence—those very qualities, habits and patterns from which we may draw strength and wisdom. The Native American people call this “animal medicine,” as they have long understood the healing power of the animal kingdom.

Photo: Summer Bear by Melissa Johnson; © 2008.

Take the bear, for instance. Consider its most well known habit—going deep within the cave to hibernate for the winter until it emerges anew come spring. True, each animal has many lessons to share, but it’s easy to see how our Native Ancestors view the power of introspection to be the bear’s great metaphorical teaching. By introspection they mean one’s willingness and ability to go within and engage the process of self-examination and reflection.

Call me crazy, but I’m driven to explore and understand the deeper, often unconscious, motivations behind my own actions; a real nightmare for those who would rather not deal with the messiness of why they do what they do. But try as I might to shut it all out, part of me naturally connects with the energy of the bear as I ponder: What’s triggering this emotional response? Why did I behave that way when . . .? Is there a connection between the thoughts I entertain and the day-to-day experience of my life? What am I holding on to that’s blocking my ability to move forward?

For me, the power of introspection has brought about healing on many levels—mind, body and spirit—so much so, in fact, that being a “bear in the cave” has become my personal metaphor for solitary reflection . . . when I have an important decision to make, when I need to work through a troubling issue or want solitude from the stressed-out world around me. “In the cave” I am free to connect with my creative side and establish clear boundaries when I feel pressured by the expectations and demands of others. Sometimes this involves focused meditation; other times, it is my way of spending time alone, which allows me to turn down the volume and connect with my intuitive self—that still, small voice within that knows what’s best for my life.

Experience has taught me well: When we don’t acknowledge our “stuff” it will always find a way to express itself, like water escaping through the cracks in a wall intended to hold it back; it could get ugly. And somehow, by ignoring what needs attention, eventually we find ourselves living out the same situations and dramas, over and over again—with a different cast of characters and slightly different story lines, perhaps—which aggravate our feelings of separateness rather than help us connect to the whole.

It’s sad but true—until we become aware of our patterns and learn what’s motivating our choices, we don’t stand a chance of understanding our Self or others and this can bring about great suffering. Sometimes we can’t do this on our own and we need the help of licensed professionals to work through traumas and issues of the past. But for others, going within to access our highest wisdom is a great place to start, and a wonderful habit to adopt from our bear friends.

So maybe we go in the cave once a week, or six times a year, rather than spending the entire winter in solitude; whatever works. But there, in the light of understanding, we can release the energy of hurt feelings, resentments, anger or whatever may be holding us back, and clear the space for new life to enter.

To be like the bear requires patience and trust. We must feel safe to enter the cave and know that we will emerge in the proverbial spring. And while there, we must learn to connect with our intuitive mind and the energy of our Creator, for this is where answers live and the solutions to our most pressing dilemmas can be found.

Bear medicine, indeed. . .

Legal Disclaimer: Remember, true intuitive messages are loving directives that offer insight and guidance for our highest good. Terrifying, debilitating thoughts or those that encourage you to do things that you know are inappropriate either come from manufactured fear or psychosis. If the latter please run, not walk, to your nearest psychotherapist’s office and do not enter the cave alone again.

By Melissa Johnson

This article first appeared in Colorado's Highlander Magazine (May 2009). Reprinted with full author copyrights and editorial permission.

Two Sides of the Same Story

Even the Rose,

beautiful,

healthy,

vibrant

and full of blooms

requires just enough manure

to flourish.

Grounded, by TR Hughes [1]

My friend Tammie wrote this poem, and its dirty truth made me laugh—reminding me, once again, of the duality that exists in all of life.

For instance, consider this botanical curiosity: Water Hemlock (sp., Cicuta) is considered to be the most deadly plant in North America. Yet its physical appearance shows delicate beauty.

Toxic Beauty (Water Hemlock) (c) 2008 by Melissa Johnson.

But woe is she who mistakes the clusters of white tuberous roots for that of parsnips or dill, both edible plants; a fatal error indeed. For when swallowed, water hemlock’s poison is so strong that it results in almost instant, violent and painful convulsions. Even handling the plant can leave high levels of toxins on the skin that—when inadvertently ingested by hand to mouth contact—will cause explosive vomiting, or worse. In fact, so toxic is this plant that, throughout history, it has been used as an intentional poison: Think Socrates’ execution in Greece by the deadly poison hemlock.[2]

And ponder this zoological wonder: Humans do not hold the title on laughter and joy. Chimpanzees, gorillas and orang-utans, our closest furry relatives, make laughing sounds when tickled, and they regularly play with each other, a discovery first reported by Charles Darwin in 1872. So while we humans are keen to distinguish ourselves from our animal friends, research shows that the determining factor for these seemingly cognitive functions is the size of certain regions of the brain—in particular, the amygdala—not the simple classification of animal or human.[3] After all, aren’t we and our monkey friends polar opposites on the same continuum of life?

Duality [doo-al-i-tee] The quality of being twofold; dichotomy.[4]

It’s not just the world of flora and fauna that breeds duality. We, as humans, are riddled with it. From the moment of our birth, the nature of our human experience is twofold—we are at once invisible spirit and a physical body. And while it has been said that we’re all created equal, our lives and experiences are so incredibly different, even in our similarities.

We experience our thoughts, emotions and actions in extremes: Love and hate, strength and weakness, hope and despair, ambition and laziness, happiness and sadness, kindness and cruelty; one moment we’re riding high on a wave of joy and inspiration and the next, feeling low of energy and lacking the will to get-up-and-go. The same is true of our experience of others.

There is a tendency, I think, to view people and situations as being this way or that; black or white; either / or, but not both. Yet the world is filled with dichotomies. How often have we met someone and, having seen certain positive qualities within them, we automatically ascribe to their character other positive qualities and exclude other more negative traits, only later to be disappointed when those negative traits emerge? Likewise, how often have we surprised ourselves with extremes of thought, behavior or desires, all coming from within?

The spiritual principle of non-duality suggests that these extremes are simply different expressions of the same energy. Picture it this way: A long string is stretched tight before you. On one end is your spiritual essence; on the other, your physical body. Though separated by string, they are opposing expressions of the same continuous thread of life, connected and inseparable as a whole. Ultimately, we wouldn't have an inner world without the opposing dynamic of an outer world. We can't have a front without a back; or a left without a right (unless, of course, we're dealing in one dimensional realities, like a cartoonist).

I think the challenge is in learning how to soften our hard lines--balance our extremes--and bring together opposing thoughts, emotions, and actions into perfect synergy to create a beautiful new life energy, rich in depth and meaning.

In this way, for instance, we view the water hemlock as a toxic beauty, equally fascinating in its ability to enliven our senses and destroy our life; we relax our minds enough to see that it's not a case of either / or; it is both.

And, like the rose, we learn to view the manure in our life as a smelly, messy, yet beneficial catalyst for our growth.

By Melissa Johnson

____________________________________

Notes and Resources:

[1] Riddles, Rhymes & Stop Signs, by TR Hughes. To purchase a copy of Tammie’s debut collection of poetry, please click here: Riddles, Rhymes, and Stop Signs by TR Hughes

[2] Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cicuta)

[3] Fish That Fake Orgasms and Other Zoological Curiosities, by Matt Walker.

[4] American Heritage Dictionary.

Who's that Lady?

Every now and then beautiful angels appear cleverly disguised as ordinary human beings.

~ Adele Basheer

They say that guardian angels walk among us--always with us--guiding our thoughts, actions, what we see and hear; showing up at just the right time with just the message we need to hear.

One of mine appeared to me as a Gina Rowlands look-alike.

I was driving cross-country, headed west, when, somewhere outside of Memphis, traveling North on I-65, I found myself in a massive traffic situation. I strained to find the I-40 freeway exchange that would take me towards Colorado. There was so much traffic, and not one sign pointed to I-40. In fact, I saw nothing even remotely similar to the directions I carried.

Now I've driven in some crazy places. Generally speaking, traffic doesn't scare me. But this was different. Cars were flying past me, left and right, cutting sharply from lane to lane as they all tried to be in the right place at the right time to make their freeway exit. It felt like this road led everywhere and nowhere all at once. The thought of missing my west-bound exchange and trying to navigate my way from the other direction unnerved me. So I made a split-second decision and took the next exit. I had no idea where I was, but I knew that stopping sooner than later would allow me to look at my road atlas, get my bearings and perhaps avoid a traffic disaster.

As I neared the end of the exit ramp I saw nothing--I'm talking ghost town as far as the eye could see--except for an old, abandoned gas station, its windows covered with boards and unruly weeds and grass growing between the cracks in the asphalt. It was sketchy, for sure, but broad daylight, and I thought it would be okay to stop there for a few minutes and get myself sorted out.

Sitting in my little sports car--motor running, windows up, doors locked--I spread my atlas across the passenger seat, looking between my written directions and the small detail of the map. Just then, a car pulled up--a dark blue tank of a Cadillac--driven by a woman with white-blonde hair, pulled back in a large bow. I noticed that she had a handicap decal hanging from her rear-view mirror as she circled my car, finally stopping on the passenger side with a gesture suggesting I roll down my window.

"Honey, you need to get outta here right now," she said in her thick southern drawl.

Her excitement caught me off guard.

"Where are you headed?" She asked.

"I'm looking for the I-40 exchange, headed west," I yelled through the open window.

"Well, honey, you need to follow me; I'll take you right to it. But you need to go now. You need to leave right now," she repeated calmly through her smile. "I'll drive you to your exit and then I'll pull over and point where you need to go, it'll be an awkward left turn but I'll let you know when we're getting close."

"Okay," I said, feeling slightly nervous but grateful for her help. Who is this woman and what is she doing in the middle of nowhere? I wondered. "Wait, what's your name? I want to thank you for helping me."

"Just call me your guardian angel,” she said with a wink and a smile, tipping her head. “No thanks necessary. Come on now, let's get moving . . ."

She pulled out of the parking lot, driving slowly at first, and we meandered some 3 miles down these winding, nowhere roads--a few turns here and there—then, true to her word, as we neared the exit, she pulled off on the right-hand shoulder of the road and stuck her arm out of the window, waving wildly and pointing left, motioning for me to exit. And off I went.

For the next two hours I drove in complete silence--no music, no cell phone chit-chat, no distractions--just me and my awe-filled thoughts of wonder about this guardian angel. And though I had no way of knowing what could have happened—what would have happened—had she not appeared, had I lingered in that parking lot one minute longer or entered the freeway one second later, in my heart, I knew that she had saved me from misfortune.

As we move through life, I think it’s important that we keep our eyes, ears and hearts open—all of our senses, really—to the messages around us, even those that come in unlikely forms. You never know when someone you encounter may be an earth-angel, there to help you, protect you, teach you or bring you into higher levels of yourself.

No matter the form, experience has taught me well. Angels, indeed, walk among us . . . or drive, as the case may be.

By Melissa Johnson

_________________________________

This article is dedicated to my beloved Grandfather, Karl Mason. April 9, 1919 -- July 17, 2008. In your new spirit form may you be a guiding light for others, just as you were here on earth. Happy Birthday.

By the Light of the Moon

It is one of the commonest of mistakes

to consider that

the limit of our power of perception

is also the limit of all there is to perceive.

~C.W. Leadbeater

Lunar Perception © 2009 MJohnson.

Perception is a funny thing: Two or more people can view the exact same event and come away with a different understanding of their experience. Take moon-gazing, for instance.

One night, while living in Florida, two of my girlfriends came over for a bit of late-night-summer-screened-patio-dwelling. The moon was particularly bright and full, providing the perfect ambient lighting for our ladies' night outdoors. As we talked and laughed and sipped our wine, one of my friends noticed something peculiar--light radiated from the center of this luminous moon forming a symmetrical fixed cross.

We had been talking about everything from our personal lives to the war in the Middle East and the overall state of the world, but upon seeing this cross-of-light, my friend stopped mid-sentence and said, "It's a sign! I just know it's a sign. I can feel it! What do you think it means?"

Being equally fascinated by astronomy and astrology--and having earlier confirmed the planetary positions in the night sky--I philosophized that this brilliant fixed-cross-moon was an outward expression of the current astrological energy affecting the world at large.

Our other friend stared wistfully at the moon--her expression one of hope and inspiration--and simply said, "I believe it is God's way of telling us that no matter what's going on in the world, he loves us and everything is going to be okay."

There we were--three different women with very different explanations of our experience, but we all agreed on one thing: We were witnessing a most extraordinary moment in time. We sat in silence, each connecting with our perception, feeling somehow changed by this powerful experience.

But later, after one of the girls walked home to make sure that her son was preparing for bed, she phoned my house in a fluster. "Go outside," she said.

"I am outside. We're still on the patio."

"No," she said. "Open the screen door and step outside."

"Okay," I conceded, now standing barefoot in the wet grass. "What is it?"

"Now look at the moon," she said, with laughter bubbling up through her otherwise serious demeanor.

"Okay . . . I'm looking . . . What is it? Wait!" I stared, "The cross is gone! What happened to the cross?"

"Now go back inside and look at the moon again."

I did as she instructed, and immediately I saw the brilliant fixed-cross-of-light radiating from the moon's core. Then I understood.

This wasn't some rare astrological phenomenon, or a blessed sign from God. No, our fixed cross was, in fact, the result of viewing the moon through the tiny weave of the patio screen, an observation made by my friend's 11 year old son when she tried to share with him our mystical, magical moment. "Mom," he had huffed, rolling his eyes at her naivete; "Open the screen door!" Then he stormed off to his room mumbling, "Do I have to explain everything to you?"

We laughed until we cried.

But all laughter aside, this moon-gazing experience helped me to understand more clearly what psychologists have long recognized: that people do not view the world neutrally--we see it through the lens of our experiences, beliefs and expectations.

Just look at the way that my friends and I sat around discussing this fixed-cross-phenomenon, making all kinds of value judgments that clearly were not accurate. But the experience was very real to us. Even when my friend called and urged me to look at the moon again, I was reluctant to abandon my prior experience. Had I not been able to gain a new perspective--by looking at the moon without the filter of the patio screen--perhaps I would have continued to explain this "rare" event through the lens of my limited understanding, mistaking my perception for fact; something that our egos are keen to do.

And this made me think: What if we all walk around clinging to our limited perception as being the only truth there is? Consider the implications on our ability to create a peaceful world that works for everyone.

In the end, we know that things are not always as they seem. Making the most of our perceptions requires flexibility and an open mind; we must temporarily suspend all judgment and become receptive to the wealth of possibility that surrounds us. Remember, what is real and true for one may not be the experience of another. And while we lose nothing when we open ourselves up to consider another viewpoint, what we stand to gain is great indeed.

By Melissa Johnson

CHARITY SPOTLIGHT

World Wildlife Fund

Did you know that in the last century three of the nine tiger species have become extinct, and that almost a quarter of the earth’s mammals face a high risk of extinction within the next 30 years?

These and other facts are made available to us through the research and outreach efforts of the World Wildlife Fund, a 501(c)(3) charitable organization serving environments and communities worldwide.

Since 1961, WWF has worked diligently to save endangered species—polar bears, pandas, tigers, and others—and to preserve the habitats these animals depend on for survival.

In addition to standard cash donations or estate gifting, what I love about WWF is their extraordinary species adoption program. For as little as $50, you can adopt an endangered animal—choosing from more than 90 species—and receive a soft, plush version of your adopted animal, together with an adoption certificate, photograph and fun-fact card about the species and their habitat. Aside from helping WWF with wildlife and environmental conservation, animal adoptions make wonderful gifts for children and adults alike.

To learn more about WWF and the animal adoption program, please visit their web site at http://www.worldwildlife.org/.

GREEN LIVING

End Catalog Clutter!

Does your mailbox overflow with catalogs that you've neither ordered nor want to receive? Here's a quick way to eliminate waste and free your life from their endless clutter.

Simply log on to Catalog Choice (http://www.catalogchoice.org/) and set up your free account. In just a few short clicks--choosing from their alphabetical list--you can cancel all (or some) of these catalogs and never receive them again!