Scientists are like Missouri, the Show Me State. They say “I’ll believe it when I see it.” Spiritual traditions, however, are the opposite. They promote an “I’ll see it when I believe it” frame of mind.
I’ve lived in both of these states. The two perspectives may seem contradictory, but (at long last) I see them as complimentary. I have had experiences when something had to be proven to me before I would believe that it was true. (I didn’t believe Chris that there is really an animal called an ant lion that eats ants caught in its sandy trap until I saw one on the Grand Canyon.) But I wasn’t able to do intuitive work with animals until I believed that I could. I had had the ability all along, but I didn’t see it happening until after I believed it was possible – and then a whole new world opened up to me.
For most of my life, I bounced back and forth between phases that I labeled “scientific” and “spiritual.” School was a “science” phase for me, from high school through my doctoral program. Between academic degrees, I often felt I was in a more “spiritual” phase of my life. This is when I had time to meditate or take classes on consciousness or the human energy system or visit my local Zen Center for a dharma talk. The quality of my life was different during these two different phases. Neither was better or worse, but they felt different to me. The scientific phase was intellectual and questing and doing. The spiritual phase was opening and being and experiencing and feeling.
But by my mid-thirties, I was tired of bouncing and I yearned for integration. When I was with scientists, I felt I had to hide my spiritual side and when I was with spiritual people I felt overly intellectual or too rational. I had one foot in the spiritual world and one foot in the scientific world -- but I wanted to live a balanced life with both feet on the ground at the same time. I also had a lot of judgments about my worlds – whichever one I was in at the time was the “good” phase and the other was “bad.” My life became “either or” and “bad or good.”
In October 2010, when I began my Second Year Project, my life felt compartmentalized. I wanted to celebrate what I saw as both sides of my brain: my left brain that was logical and linear and great for evaluating information and critical thinking and my right brain that held my imagination, my intuition, my creativity, and my ability to love and empathize with people.
My project in itself integrated the two hemispheres of my brain: I combined my love of animals and my curiosity about the spiritual make up of our world (right brain) into a scientific framework (left brain) that would help me understand both better. I took a spiritual question and applied the scientific method to it . . . a step toward integration!
I also designed the steps of my Second Year Project in a way that encouraged me to use both sides of my brain. In the fall, I scheduled blocks of time during which I would practice my intuitive skills. I was structured and disciplined in following the weekly structure, but I was open and receptive in what I was doing during that time. More integration!
During the winter, I conducted my spiritual research, interviewing dozens of animals and asking each one the same three questions. When I chose my three questions, I used my left brain and scientific training to distill down the relevant information that I wanted to learn into my questions. But I also used my right brain, as I asked myself “what feels meaningful to me?”
Even more integration came when I wrote my book. I outlined the animal chapters using right-brained mind maps to generate ideas and find connections, but I used standard, numbered outlines for my opening and closing chapters so that they were clear and logical to read.
From science, I’ve learned how to create structure and method, discernment and evaluation, objectivity and curiosity, and how to communicate accurately.
From my spirituality, I’ve learned love and openness, subjectivity and curiosity, synthesis and making connections.
Now, I celebrate both sides of my brain and both aspects of my being. I have two distinct tools, each effective in its own circumstances. They can support and enhance each other.
It’s a happy marriage inside of me.
“You need both kinds of knowing – logical and intuitive. Let the two come together. They were never meant to be apart.”
-Lucia Cappaccione, PhD., The Power of the Other Hand, p 64
“It is the polarity and integration of these two modes of consciousness, the complimentary workings of the intellect and the intuitive, which underlies our highest achievement.”
-Robert Ornstein, The Psychology of Consciousness
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
April 2011 ~ My Three Questions
During the weeks leading up to my April weekend at USM, I was busy summarizing my results and writing the animal chapters of my book. I spent a lot of time thinking about my three questions and the variety of answers I had gotten from all the different kinds of animals. As I was sitting in class on Sunday, it suddenly struck me as odd that I’d been asking these questions to dozens of animals, but had never asked my questions to people.
Suddenly, I wanted very much to know how people would answer my questions. But who should I ask? Where should I start?
At the lunch break that day, I asked my Spiritual Psychology teacher Dr. Ron Hulnick my three questions. Ron shared that his spiritual gift is “the ability to transmute challenging principles into understandable concepts, to make things more understandable. Like an artist sees a vision and translates it into form or reality, I do the same for concepts.” I remarked that he did this not just for concepts, but also experiences, giving people a spiritual and practical context in which to interpret and understand their experiences. Ron agreed with me.
Regarding his spiritual lesson, Ron says, “I have largely resolved most of the things I came here to learn, which really comes down to letting go of judgments. I used to be very angry and had a lot of rules about the way things should be and what was wrong with everyone. All of that had to go. That was my lesson.” He paused and said thoughtfully, almost to himself, “Clearly I have more to learn because I’m still here, but I don’t know what it is.”
Ron’s message to people is “You didn’t do anything wrong. Everyone is inherently worthy regardless of what they’ve thought or done, whether they believe it or not.” So many of us are beating ourselves up for something we thought or did that we judge ourselves for or think that we are unworthy or unlovable for doing or thinking. Ron’s message is that we are here to learn that we are all worthy and all loveable by virtue of the fact that we exist. It’s that simple.
After I talked to Ron, I got curious about how other spiritual teachers would see themselves and their spiritual journey in this lifetime, which led me to my life and my spiritual journey. So, I asked myself my three questions. When I did, I was actually surprised by my answers. On one level, I see my primary spiritual gift as loving -- loving myself and loving my family, especially my kids. At another level, I see my spiritual gift as the synthesis of many skills that I’ve developed over my lifetime. Right now, I see my gift as the ability to access and present spiritual experiences and information in a way that allows other people to access their own spiritual truth.
When I look back at earlier painful episodes in my life from my current perspective, I see that my spiritual challenge or lesson was (and continues to be) knowing who I am and loving myself no matter what. This means knowing my true, authentic self and loving myself whether or not I am receiving love or appreciation or approval from someone else. Many of the most painful moments in my life emerged from judgments I made against myself as not smart or pretty or friendly or artistic or whatever enough. I looked outside myself for approval and for proof of my worth and value. Sometimes I got it, sometimes I didn’t. But as look back now, I see each quest for approval as an opportunity to love myself and to give myself what I had been looking for from someone else. My lesson is to love myself the way I want to be loved, to love myself the way I love my friends and family – wholly, completely and unconditionally.
My message to people in its simplest terms is: “We are love. We are all connected. We are one.” The way I see it, our very essence is love. That’s what we are made of, whether we are a good person or not, whether we are a nice person or not, and whether we are a person a snake or a whale or not. We are all made of the same energy and that energy is love. There is no difference between me and you and a polar bear. We are all the same, energetically and spiritually. We are not only connected to each other, but we are one.
So here’s my question for you: what are your answers to my questions? What is your spiritual gift? What is your spiritual lesson? What message do you want to share with people?
“If I could tell the world just one thing it would be that we’re all OK.”
-Opening line from the song Hands by singer/songwriter Jewel
Suddenly, I wanted very much to know how people would answer my questions. But who should I ask? Where should I start?
At the lunch break that day, I asked my Spiritual Psychology teacher Dr. Ron Hulnick my three questions. Ron shared that his spiritual gift is “the ability to transmute challenging principles into understandable concepts, to make things more understandable. Like an artist sees a vision and translates it into form or reality, I do the same for concepts.” I remarked that he did this not just for concepts, but also experiences, giving people a spiritual and practical context in which to interpret and understand their experiences. Ron agreed with me.
Regarding his spiritual lesson, Ron says, “I have largely resolved most of the things I came here to learn, which really comes down to letting go of judgments. I used to be very angry and had a lot of rules about the way things should be and what was wrong with everyone. All of that had to go. That was my lesson.” He paused and said thoughtfully, almost to himself, “Clearly I have more to learn because I’m still here, but I don’t know what it is.”
Ron’s message to people is “You didn’t do anything wrong. Everyone is inherently worthy regardless of what they’ve thought or done, whether they believe it or not.” So many of us are beating ourselves up for something we thought or did that we judge ourselves for or think that we are unworthy or unlovable for doing or thinking. Ron’s message is that we are here to learn that we are all worthy and all loveable by virtue of the fact that we exist. It’s that simple.
After I talked to Ron, I got curious about how other spiritual teachers would see themselves and their spiritual journey in this lifetime, which led me to my life and my spiritual journey. So, I asked myself my three questions. When I did, I was actually surprised by my answers. On one level, I see my primary spiritual gift as loving -- loving myself and loving my family, especially my kids. At another level, I see my spiritual gift as the synthesis of many skills that I’ve developed over my lifetime. Right now, I see my gift as the ability to access and present spiritual experiences and information in a way that allows other people to access their own spiritual truth.
When I look back at earlier painful episodes in my life from my current perspective, I see that my spiritual challenge or lesson was (and continues to be) knowing who I am and loving myself no matter what. This means knowing my true, authentic self and loving myself whether or not I am receiving love or appreciation or approval from someone else. Many of the most painful moments in my life emerged from judgments I made against myself as not smart or pretty or friendly or artistic or whatever enough. I looked outside myself for approval and for proof of my worth and value. Sometimes I got it, sometimes I didn’t. But as look back now, I see each quest for approval as an opportunity to love myself and to give myself what I had been looking for from someone else. My lesson is to love myself the way I want to be loved, to love myself the way I love my friends and family – wholly, completely and unconditionally.
My message to people in its simplest terms is: “We are love. We are all connected. We are one.” The way I see it, our very essence is love. That’s what we are made of, whether we are a good person or not, whether we are a nice person or not, and whether we are a person a snake or a whale or not. We are all made of the same energy and that energy is love. There is no difference between me and you and a polar bear. We are all the same, energetically and spiritually. We are not only connected to each other, but we are one.
So here’s my question for you: what are your answers to my questions? What is your spiritual gift? What is your spiritual lesson? What message do you want to share with people?
“If I could tell the world just one thing it would be that we’re all OK.”
-Opening line from the song Hands by singer/songwriter Jewel
Monday, April 4, 2011
A New Way of Being
When I first applied to USM, I had a goal that was hard for people to grasp: I wanted a new way of being in the world.
Last November I bemoaned the fact that I didn’t have it yet and expressed my fear that the second year of USM was too short for me to attain that goal. Only seven months left to transform myself into a new way of being in the world. My Inner Pessimist was sure “it’ll never happen.”
Last week, I got a chance to see that I am actually experiencing a different way of being in the world.
My friend Analia and I were going to see Maya Angelou speak at Chico State Tuesday evening. We talked midday to confirm our date and to set up dinner plans, but we both had too many loose ends and neither of us was ready to commit to a specific time and place for dinner. Analia, whom I tease mercilessly about never answering her phone, assured me, “I’ll be home all afternoon and I will answer my phone when you call.”
I called her at 4pm, no answer. I called her at 5:30 pm, no answer.
I was putting a frozen burrito into the microwave for my dinner at 5:55 when the phone rang. It was Analia, apologizing profusely, expecting me to be upset and angry with her. I wasn’t angry with her at all. She gradually calmed down, telling me that her other friends would have been so mad at her for not taking their calls. Two years ago, I probably would have been mad at her but not admitted it to her. A year ago, I would have been a bit frustrated and might have mentioned it. But tonight I wasn’t the least bit upset. Tonight, I just laughed and told her that I knew we would eat that night and that I knew we would see Maya Angelou that night and I knew that all the details would take care of themselves. This was my first clue that I wasn’t “being” like my former self.
We agreed to have a quick dinner at her place (I’d bring my burrito) and then walk to the theater. After goodnight hugs and kisses for Chris and the kids, I drove across town toward Analia’s house. About a mile away, I realized that I had forgotten my purse with the tickets in it. I turned around, thinking “This isn’t like me…”
When I arrived at Analia’s, I apologized for being late, telling her that I had forgotten my purse with the tickets.
We chatted, ate some dinner and left her house with 40 minutes to complete the ten minute walk. We were relaxed and having a good time. Two blocks from her house, Analia asked me, “Do you have the tickets?” I started laughing out loud. I’d forgotten my purse again! As we turned around, I thought, “This really isn’t like me…” At her driveway, we were distracted and stopped to watch a group of really cool ants for a few minutes. I was reminded that I had started a new book that morning called “Animal Omens” all about what it means metaphysically when different kinds of animals show up in your life. I remembered the ants’ message was to share your gifts with the community.
We started off again, purse and tickets firmly in hand. At the end of the block, we saw two women posting “lost cat” fliers on the telephone pole. Eyebrows raised, I looked at Analia and said, “This is why I kept forgetting my purse!” We started talking to the mother and her college-aged daughter about their cat. I told them that I was psychic. Before the words were even out of my mouth, the mother, Nancy, shoved the flier at me.
I looked at the picture of the black cat, closed my eyes, and asked the cat’s name. When the daughter told me “Blanca,” I had to open my eyes and say “Ironic!” to Analia. Eyes closed again, I connected with Blanca, and I could tell that she was okay and not too stressed. I saw her view of an orange house with an orange picket fence. It was on a northwest corner of a street.
As I shared the information, I looked around for the house, but couldn’t see it. I re-connected with Blanca, asked for map, and got an aerial view of the neighborhood. I saw that Blanca was one block south and one block east of us. Curiously, I got a warm feeling emanating from that direction. I shared the info again and Nancy and her daughter set off in the direction I had indicated.
Once again, Analia and I began our walk to Chico State. We made it to the theater right on time. Maya Angelou was fabulous, funny, and inspiring.
The next day I received an email from Nancy saying “Cara, I am the mother of the young woman with the lost cat last evening. You were right, we found her. Just where you directed. We knocked on doors and called to her. I felt a warm area and encouraged my daughter to call her friend. Kitty Blanca didn't come out right away. After I left for home Acacia went back out on her bike calling her. Blanca came running. Pure magic is the only way I can describe running into you and your friend. Pure gratitude is what I feel for you helping my daughter on the spot. Thank you.”
I reflected on all the little “coincidences” that added up to me running into Nancy and her daughter at just the right moment. If they had been at that corner five minutes earlier or later, we would have missed them. If I had remembered my purse the first time I left my house, we would have missed them. If I had remembered my purse the first time we left Analia’s house we would have missed them. If Analia had answered her phone that afternoon, we might have made plans to eat at a restaurant that night and we would have missed them.
But we were in the flow of life. I took all the usual “inconveniences” of the day in stride, without getting upset. I was being different in the world than I had been in the past. Maybe, just maybe, two years is long enough to transform myself into a different way of being in the world.
Last November I bemoaned the fact that I didn’t have it yet and expressed my fear that the second year of USM was too short for me to attain that goal. Only seven months left to transform myself into a new way of being in the world. My Inner Pessimist was sure “it’ll never happen.”
Last week, I got a chance to see that I am actually experiencing a different way of being in the world.
My friend Analia and I were going to see Maya Angelou speak at Chico State Tuesday evening. We talked midday to confirm our date and to set up dinner plans, but we both had too many loose ends and neither of us was ready to commit to a specific time and place for dinner. Analia, whom I tease mercilessly about never answering her phone, assured me, “I’ll be home all afternoon and I will answer my phone when you call.”
I called her at 4pm, no answer. I called her at 5:30 pm, no answer.
I was putting a frozen burrito into the microwave for my dinner at 5:55 when the phone rang. It was Analia, apologizing profusely, expecting me to be upset and angry with her. I wasn’t angry with her at all. She gradually calmed down, telling me that her other friends would have been so mad at her for not taking their calls. Two years ago, I probably would have been mad at her but not admitted it to her. A year ago, I would have been a bit frustrated and might have mentioned it. But tonight I wasn’t the least bit upset. Tonight, I just laughed and told her that I knew we would eat that night and that I knew we would see Maya Angelou that night and I knew that all the details would take care of themselves. This was my first clue that I wasn’t “being” like my former self.
We agreed to have a quick dinner at her place (I’d bring my burrito) and then walk to the theater. After goodnight hugs and kisses for Chris and the kids, I drove across town toward Analia’s house. About a mile away, I realized that I had forgotten my purse with the tickets in it. I turned around, thinking “This isn’t like me…”
When I arrived at Analia’s, I apologized for being late, telling her that I had forgotten my purse with the tickets.
We chatted, ate some dinner and left her house with 40 minutes to complete the ten minute walk. We were relaxed and having a good time. Two blocks from her house, Analia asked me, “Do you have the tickets?” I started laughing out loud. I’d forgotten my purse again! As we turned around, I thought, “This really isn’t like me…” At her driveway, we were distracted and stopped to watch a group of really cool ants for a few minutes. I was reminded that I had started a new book that morning called “Animal Omens” all about what it means metaphysically when different kinds of animals show up in your life. I remembered the ants’ message was to share your gifts with the community.
We started off again, purse and tickets firmly in hand. At the end of the block, we saw two women posting “lost cat” fliers on the telephone pole. Eyebrows raised, I looked at Analia and said, “This is why I kept forgetting my purse!” We started talking to the mother and her college-aged daughter about their cat. I told them that I was psychic. Before the words were even out of my mouth, the mother, Nancy, shoved the flier at me.
I looked at the picture of the black cat, closed my eyes, and asked the cat’s name. When the daughter told me “Blanca,” I had to open my eyes and say “Ironic!” to Analia. Eyes closed again, I connected with Blanca, and I could tell that she was okay and not too stressed. I saw her view of an orange house with an orange picket fence. It was on a northwest corner of a street.
As I shared the information, I looked around for the house, but couldn’t see it. I re-connected with Blanca, asked for map, and got an aerial view of the neighborhood. I saw that Blanca was one block south and one block east of us. Curiously, I got a warm feeling emanating from that direction. I shared the info again and Nancy and her daughter set off in the direction I had indicated.
Once again, Analia and I began our walk to Chico State. We made it to the theater right on time. Maya Angelou was fabulous, funny, and inspiring.
The next day I received an email from Nancy saying “Cara, I am the mother of the young woman with the lost cat last evening. You were right, we found her. Just where you directed. We knocked on doors and called to her. I felt a warm area and encouraged my daughter to call her friend. Kitty Blanca didn't come out right away. After I left for home Acacia went back out on her bike calling her. Blanca came running. Pure magic is the only way I can describe running into you and your friend. Pure gratitude is what I feel for you helping my daughter on the spot. Thank you.”
I reflected on all the little “coincidences” that added up to me running into Nancy and her daughter at just the right moment. If they had been at that corner five minutes earlier or later, we would have missed them. If I had remembered my purse the first time I left my house, we would have missed them. If I had remembered my purse the first time we left Analia’s house we would have missed them. If Analia had answered her phone that afternoon, we might have made plans to eat at a restaurant that night and we would have missed them.
But we were in the flow of life. I took all the usual “inconveniences” of the day in stride, without getting upset. I was being different in the world than I had been in the past. Maybe, just maybe, two years is long enough to transform myself into a different way of being in the world.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
February, Second Year
I have attended 13 USM weekends plus a 5-day USM lab last summer. I feel like I know what to do. I know what's going on. Each weekend has its own feel, its own rhythm and flow, but they seem to generally follow a pattern, a pattern that I thought I knew.
Then came the February weekend, weekend number 14. Hello!
In our first exercise of the weekend on Friday night (usually a nice, fun, light-hearted experience), I catapulted myself into the depths of my childhood angst over my parents' separation and subsequent divorce. Again? Really?
The thing that was different this time was that I went to a much deeper level of healing. It's not like I haven't explored this territory before. In fact, somewhere in the middle of First Year an aspect of this event came up for me to heal and I mentioned it to my brother who said, "Again? Really? Huh."
So here I was again, in third grade, watching my world implode. But this time I didn't just watch it from afar, I re-felt it. I experienced it as if it were happening now. I experienced it just as I had as a confused, hurt 8 year old girl who thought she knew how the world worked. Who thought she knew what was going on and what to do . . . only to find that she really didn't.
On Saturday, I did something I had never done before: I gave my 8 year old self a voice. And I ended up doubled over in gut-wrenching sobs that had no words. The sobs moved through me in waves as I surrendered to the emotions I had carried around inside of me for 38 years. I let my sobs wring all the hurt and pain and fear I had felt back then out of me.
It was over surprisingly quickly. I looked around in a daze, feeling refreshed.
And then I did something else I had never done before: I talked to my 8 year old self and told her all the things I loved about her - her intelligence, curiosity, physicality, artistic ability, athleticism, sense of humor, joyfulness, and lovingness. I told her how much she and Lexi would like each other and how I was sure they would dance and sing together and play in the trees and creeks together. I realized I really liked this little girl. I admired her spunk. My high school-aged self would have appreciated her joie-de-vivre and said that she had a certain "je ne sais quois."
My lesson here was two-fold: deepen and surrender. My intention as I started the first exercise of the weekend was to be "exquisitely vulnerable" and I felt like I achieved that goal throughout the weekend. My willingness to go to the deep, dark places I had never gone before and surrender to whatever they held allowed me to release pain that I had been storing in my body for decades and to heal old wounds that I had covered up so much that I forgot they existed. The other side of that dark experience, where I am residing now as I write this, is a sense of freedom and relaxation that grounds and mellows me and allows me to be that much more present in the here and now.
As I prepare for weekend number 15, which begins tomorrow, I feel like I carry this mantra with me, "deepen and surrender, deepen and surrender." Like those deep, dark places I visited last month, I don't know what this weekend has in store for me, but I will allow my new intention to be bold and courageous to light my way on the next adventure of my soul.
Then came the February weekend, weekend number 14. Hello!
In our first exercise of the weekend on Friday night (usually a nice, fun, light-hearted experience), I catapulted myself into the depths of my childhood angst over my parents' separation and subsequent divorce. Again? Really?
The thing that was different this time was that I went to a much deeper level of healing. It's not like I haven't explored this territory before. In fact, somewhere in the middle of First Year an aspect of this event came up for me to heal and I mentioned it to my brother who said, "Again? Really? Huh."
So here I was again, in third grade, watching my world implode. But this time I didn't just watch it from afar, I re-felt it. I experienced it as if it were happening now. I experienced it just as I had as a confused, hurt 8 year old girl who thought she knew how the world worked. Who thought she knew what was going on and what to do . . . only to find that she really didn't.
On Saturday, I did something I had never done before: I gave my 8 year old self a voice. And I ended up doubled over in gut-wrenching sobs that had no words. The sobs moved through me in waves as I surrendered to the emotions I had carried around inside of me for 38 years. I let my sobs wring all the hurt and pain and fear I had felt back then out of me.
It was over surprisingly quickly. I looked around in a daze, feeling refreshed.
And then I did something else I had never done before: I talked to my 8 year old self and told her all the things I loved about her - her intelligence, curiosity, physicality, artistic ability, athleticism, sense of humor, joyfulness, and lovingness. I told her how much she and Lexi would like each other and how I was sure they would dance and sing together and play in the trees and creeks together. I realized I really liked this little girl. I admired her spunk. My high school-aged self would have appreciated her joie-de-vivre and said that she had a certain "je ne sais quois."
My lesson here was two-fold: deepen and surrender. My intention as I started the first exercise of the weekend was to be "exquisitely vulnerable" and I felt like I achieved that goal throughout the weekend. My willingness to go to the deep, dark places I had never gone before and surrender to whatever they held allowed me to release pain that I had been storing in my body for decades and to heal old wounds that I had covered up so much that I forgot they existed. The other side of that dark experience, where I am residing now as I write this, is a sense of freedom and relaxation that grounds and mellows me and allows me to be that much more present in the here and now.
As I prepare for weekend number 15, which begins tomorrow, I feel like I carry this mantra with me, "deepen and surrender, deepen and surrender." Like those deep, dark places I visited last month, I don't know what this weekend has in store for me, but I will allow my new intention to be bold and courageous to light my way on the next adventure of my soul.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Second Year Project, Take 2
I am midway through the second year of USM. Time for an update about my project!
When I designed my project back in October, I created a three-step plan to writing a book. I organized it like a scientific research project. During Phase One (from October through December), I focused on gathering background information on twenty species of animals. This included their natural history (habitat, family size, prey, predators, etc.) and their symbolism in different spiritual traditions around the world and throughout history. I also spent time each week honing my intuitive skills and talking to as many animals of as many different species as I could. This was so much fun! I talked to dogs, cats, fish, donkeys, goats, chickens, and pigs.
In January, I breathed an incredulous sigh of relief as this phase finished and I moved into Phase Two: interviewing at least one individual animal from each of the twenty species. I am in the middle of this phase and I can’t believe I’m really gathering information for my book. I’ve been to both the Sacramento and San Diego Zoos this month to talk to the animals. I’ve interviewed over a dozen different animals and asked each one my three questions: What is your spiritual gift? What is your spiritual lesson or challenge? What message do you have for humans? Their answers have been funny, thoughtful, practical, touching, and inspiring.
Phase Three begins after I’ve collected all of my information from interviews, sometime in March. This final phase will be my writing phase. I’ve already started writing chapter summaries (about a paragraph long) about the animal species that I have interviewed. I’m starting to get a little nervous about this phase, because it seemed so far away and safe in October when I planned it, but now it is right around the corner and soon I’ll have to produce words on paper! Lots of them! Yikes! (Yes, USM classmates and grads, I will be working my process on this issue! ;-) )
Another item on my project plan was to write a book proposal and attend the San Diego Writers’ Conference to help me find an agent or publisher for my book. I did this last weekend and had a great trip. I learned a lot about pitches and platforms, queries and editors.
Here is my basic pitch: “My book is a spiritual non-fiction book that answers the question “Do animals have a soul?”. My subjects are twenty animals whose spiritual lessons have important messages for humans. This book offers readers a deeper understanding of themselves, their animals, and the spiritual organization of our world.”
Here is my elevator pitch: “Dr. Doolittle meets The Secret.” (This pitch came from a very practical workshop with a lively Hollywood movie agent who reduced everything to its essence and movie references.)
Here is my academic pitch: “Pioneering the emerging field of spiritual biology, a wildlife biologist bridges science and spirituality by using direct intuitive communication to investigate the unique spiritual lessons and messages of twenty different species of animals.” Not quite as catchy, but a bit more accurate than the Hollywood pitch!
Finally, here is my two paragraph book synopsis:
For millennia, humans have received mixed messages about animals from myths, religions, and science. Animals have been either deified or crucified in ancient and modern lore. Many of the world’s religions relegate animals to an inferior place in a hierarchy that puts humans on top. Even traditional science tells us that animals are merely automatons acting solely out of an instinctive drive for survival. However, many of us intuitively feel that animals’ lives are deeper and more meaningful than that. Until now, though, no one has been able to ask the animals about their reality. Enter the new science of spiritual biology.
Author Dr. Cara Gubbins is a wildlife biologist and spiritual intuitive who uses the scientific method to answer spiritual questions. Divine Beings offers a window into the worlds of twenty different species of animals. Using intuitive communication, dozens of animals were asked the same three questions by the author: What is your spiritual lesson? What is your spiritual gift? What message do you have for humans? Their answers are both surprising and inspiring. Each chapter focuses on one species and includes the symbolism of the animals in mythology and worldwide spiritual traditions, their natural history, and their responses to the three questions. Sometimes science or mythology got it right, but more often reality is far more complex and interesting. Combining science, mythology, and direct spiritual investigation, this unique book offers readers the chance to compare humans’ interpretation of animals’ lives with the actual experiences and insights of the animals themselves. Together, this combination offers readers a deeper understanding of themselves, animals, and the spiritual organization of our world.
So, as you can see, I’ve been busy playing with animals and words for the last several months! I am having fun and learning a lot about writing and selling a book. I’ll keep you updated as I finish Phase Two and move into Phase Three “Writing The Book.” And if you know a literary agent or book publisher who might be interested in me and my book, please have them give me a call!
When I designed my project back in October, I created a three-step plan to writing a book. I organized it like a scientific research project. During Phase One (from October through December), I focused on gathering background information on twenty species of animals. This included their natural history (habitat, family size, prey, predators, etc.) and their symbolism in different spiritual traditions around the world and throughout history. I also spent time each week honing my intuitive skills and talking to as many animals of as many different species as I could. This was so much fun! I talked to dogs, cats, fish, donkeys, goats, chickens, and pigs.
In January, I breathed an incredulous sigh of relief as this phase finished and I moved into Phase Two: interviewing at least one individual animal from each of the twenty species. I am in the middle of this phase and I can’t believe I’m really gathering information for my book. I’ve been to both the Sacramento and San Diego Zoos this month to talk to the animals. I’ve interviewed over a dozen different animals and asked each one my three questions: What is your spiritual gift? What is your spiritual lesson or challenge? What message do you have for humans? Their answers have been funny, thoughtful, practical, touching, and inspiring.
Phase Three begins after I’ve collected all of my information from interviews, sometime in March. This final phase will be my writing phase. I’ve already started writing chapter summaries (about a paragraph long) about the animal species that I have interviewed. I’m starting to get a little nervous about this phase, because it seemed so far away and safe in October when I planned it, but now it is right around the corner and soon I’ll have to produce words on paper! Lots of them! Yikes! (Yes, USM classmates and grads, I will be working my process on this issue! ;-) )
Another item on my project plan was to write a book proposal and attend the San Diego Writers’ Conference to help me find an agent or publisher for my book. I did this last weekend and had a great trip. I learned a lot about pitches and platforms, queries and editors.
Here is my basic pitch: “My book is a spiritual non-fiction book that answers the question “Do animals have a soul?”. My subjects are twenty animals whose spiritual lessons have important messages for humans. This book offers readers a deeper understanding of themselves, their animals, and the spiritual organization of our world.”
Here is my elevator pitch: “Dr. Doolittle meets The Secret.” (This pitch came from a very practical workshop with a lively Hollywood movie agent who reduced everything to its essence and movie references.)
Here is my academic pitch: “Pioneering the emerging field of spiritual biology, a wildlife biologist bridges science and spirituality by using direct intuitive communication to investigate the unique spiritual lessons and messages of twenty different species of animals.” Not quite as catchy, but a bit more accurate than the Hollywood pitch!
Finally, here is my two paragraph book synopsis:
For millennia, humans have received mixed messages about animals from myths, religions, and science. Animals have been either deified or crucified in ancient and modern lore. Many of the world’s religions relegate animals to an inferior place in a hierarchy that puts humans on top. Even traditional science tells us that animals are merely automatons acting solely out of an instinctive drive for survival. However, many of us intuitively feel that animals’ lives are deeper and more meaningful than that. Until now, though, no one has been able to ask the animals about their reality. Enter the new science of spiritual biology.
Author Dr. Cara Gubbins is a wildlife biologist and spiritual intuitive who uses the scientific method to answer spiritual questions. Divine Beings offers a window into the worlds of twenty different species of animals. Using intuitive communication, dozens of animals were asked the same three questions by the author: What is your spiritual lesson? What is your spiritual gift? What message do you have for humans? Their answers are both surprising and inspiring. Each chapter focuses on one species and includes the symbolism of the animals in mythology and worldwide spiritual traditions, their natural history, and their responses to the three questions. Sometimes science or mythology got it right, but more often reality is far more complex and interesting. Combining science, mythology, and direct spiritual investigation, this unique book offers readers the chance to compare humans’ interpretation of animals’ lives with the actual experiences and insights of the animals themselves. Together, this combination offers readers a deeper understanding of themselves, animals, and the spiritual organization of our world.
So, as you can see, I’ve been busy playing with animals and words for the last several months! I am having fun and learning a lot about writing and selling a book. I’ll keep you updated as I finish Phase Two and move into Phase Three “Writing The Book.” And if you know a literary agent or book publisher who might be interested in me and my book, please have them give me a call!
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Loving Smart
Zane, my five-year-old son, started Kindergarten in August this year. At his school, they teach Multiple Intelligences in every grade. In Kindergarten, they call the different types of intelligences “smarts,” so kids can be number smart and music smart and people smart and self smart. There are about eight “official” kinds of “smarts.”
In September, I was walking past Zane’s room after I had put him to bed and I heard a noise in his room, so I stopped outside his door and listened to him talking to himself in the dark. He was counting by tens from 10 to 100. When he got to 100, he said to himself, all proud and pleased, “Wow. I’m number smart!”
In December, a few nights before I flew to LA for class, I was putting Zane to bed. We had already read a book and we were lying together in his “Go, Diego, Go!” toddler bed with the lights out, just hanging out together for a few minutes. I said, “Zane, are you still number smart?” Immediately he answered, “Yes!” So, I asked, “What other kinds of smart are you?” He thought about it a moment and said, “I’m writing smart.” “Yep,“ I said. “And I’m coloring smart.” “Mmmm hmmm. Are you any other kind of smart?” He thought for another moment and said, “I’m loving smart. That’s the first one I learned.” I was silent for a moment, taking that one in. Then I asked, “Where did you learn that one?” “From loving you,” was his immediate, nonchalant reply.
Wow. I was a little stunned. I loved this on so many levels. First, he knew he was “loving” smart. That’s awesome. I don’t think I’m loving smart! Second, he learned it by doing it, through his experience of loving. Nobody "taught" him how to do it. He just did it. Third, he learned it on his own. For free. As a kid. I was spending a lot of money as an adult to re-learn the same thing at USM! Finally, he learned it by loving me, his mom. What a beautiful and natural thing to do.
Immediately, part of me rebelled against the last realization. What had I done to deserve this pure, innocent love? I wasn’t worthy of this huge honor! And, boom, there was my curriculum for the weekend.
When I went to lunch with two beautiful friends on Saturday, the bartender couldn’t stop staring at them. In fact, it looked like he was watching a tennis match the way his head kept moving from the face of one to face of the other. I don’t fit in here, with these beautiful women.
On Sunday, my teacher Mary reminded us that our outer relationships are mirrors of our inner relationships. That afternoon, I was in a trio with one of the most beautiful women in our class. Which put me right back into feeling like I don’t fit in when I’m with beautiful women. As is the USM way, I looked at my inner relationships to see where I wasn’t loving myself, where I wasn’t seeing my own beauty. After I recognized and released the judgments I had made against myself, I had a new insight: how I look is not my beauty. Who I am is my beauty. My essence is my beauty. I realized that I had only been conditionally loving myself. When I let go of my need to look a certain way in order to deserve love it somehow became easy to love myself just the way I am right now.
I thought about Zane all through the weekend. He learned about loving through his experience of loving. This weekend, I learned that I am loving smart, too. Like Zane, I’m learning that by loving me.
In September, I was walking past Zane’s room after I had put him to bed and I heard a noise in his room, so I stopped outside his door and listened to him talking to himself in the dark. He was counting by tens from 10 to 100. When he got to 100, he said to himself, all proud and pleased, “Wow. I’m number smart!”
In December, a few nights before I flew to LA for class, I was putting Zane to bed. We had already read a book and we were lying together in his “Go, Diego, Go!” toddler bed with the lights out, just hanging out together for a few minutes. I said, “Zane, are you still number smart?” Immediately he answered, “Yes!” So, I asked, “What other kinds of smart are you?” He thought about it a moment and said, “I’m writing smart.” “Yep,“ I said. “And I’m coloring smart.” “Mmmm hmmm. Are you any other kind of smart?” He thought for another moment and said, “I’m loving smart. That’s the first one I learned.” I was silent for a moment, taking that one in. Then I asked, “Where did you learn that one?” “From loving you,” was his immediate, nonchalant reply.
Wow. I was a little stunned. I loved this on so many levels. First, he knew he was “loving” smart. That’s awesome. I don’t think I’m loving smart! Second, he learned it by doing it, through his experience of loving. Nobody "taught" him how to do it. He just did it. Third, he learned it on his own. For free. As a kid. I was spending a lot of money as an adult to re-learn the same thing at USM! Finally, he learned it by loving me, his mom. What a beautiful and natural thing to do.
Immediately, part of me rebelled against the last realization. What had I done to deserve this pure, innocent love? I wasn’t worthy of this huge honor! And, boom, there was my curriculum for the weekend.
When I went to lunch with two beautiful friends on Saturday, the bartender couldn’t stop staring at them. In fact, it looked like he was watching a tennis match the way his head kept moving from the face of one to face of the other. I don’t fit in here, with these beautiful women.
On Sunday, my teacher Mary reminded us that our outer relationships are mirrors of our inner relationships. That afternoon, I was in a trio with one of the most beautiful women in our class. Which put me right back into feeling like I don’t fit in when I’m with beautiful women. As is the USM way, I looked at my inner relationships to see where I wasn’t loving myself, where I wasn’t seeing my own beauty. After I recognized and released the judgments I had made against myself, I had a new insight: how I look is not my beauty. Who I am is my beauty. My essence is my beauty. I realized that I had only been conditionally loving myself. When I let go of my need to look a certain way in order to deserve love it somehow became easy to love myself just the way I am right now.
I thought about Zane all through the weekend. He learned about loving through his experience of loving. This weekend, I learned that I am loving smart, too. Like Zane, I’m learning that by loving me.
Friday, January 7, 2011
This, too, shall pass - November weekend 2010
My word for the November weekend is "finite." This program will end. It is finite.
In November 2009, two years stretched out in front of me into an unimaginably long future. I was already tired of traveling to LA and flying and going through airport security. My eyes were already tired from all the reading. I still wasn't even sure that the program would work out. I wasn't fully committed yet. I'd probably finish the first year but I seriously thought I might not make it through the entire two years. Graduation seemed so, so far away.
Now, in November 2010, I find myself wanting the program to last longer. Each weekend I meet amazing new people that I want to get to know. The weekends go so fast, it feels like there's not enough time to get to hang out with my friends, let alone get to know all the fascinating new people. With only a handful of breaks each weekend, there really isn't time.
Only seven more weekends. I'm past the halfway point. Only seven more weekends. It seems so final. So limited.
When I first applied to USM, I had a goal that was hard for people to grasp. What was I going to do with this degree? Nothing. I'm not going to USM to be able to do anything different. I'm going there to be different. My friends who are USM graduates have a palpably different way of being in the world. They use different words. They ask different questions. They seem to have a totally different take on any situation. I wanted a new way of being in the world, too.
Maybe that's why November hit me so concretely. Only seven months left to transform myself into a new way of being in the world. Is that enough time? Can I do it? Sure, each weekend has its breakthroughs and lessons. Each month has its new insights and deeper awarenesses. Each one adds onto the others. There is a cumulative effect. Small changes that are unnoticeable in themselves add up to perceptible differences over time. I've been chipping away. But do I have a new way of being yet? Am I on track to have one in the next seven months?
I don't know.
The countdown has begun.I know that transformation is not a linear event. It's a process. It unfolds in fits and starts. It has waves and crescendos and "aha" moments. It has its own agenda. It will happen as it happens.
Meanwhile, I read my books, I do my homework, I keep showing up. It's really all I can do.
I'm committed to USM. I'm sticking it out. I'll be there at graduation to see if I've attained my goal.
I just wish it would take a little bit longer.
In November 2009, two years stretched out in front of me into an unimaginably long future. I was already tired of traveling to LA and flying and going through airport security. My eyes were already tired from all the reading. I still wasn't even sure that the program would work out. I wasn't fully committed yet. I'd probably finish the first year but I seriously thought I might not make it through the entire two years. Graduation seemed so, so far away.
Now, in November 2010, I find myself wanting the program to last longer. Each weekend I meet amazing new people that I want to get to know. The weekends go so fast, it feels like there's not enough time to get to hang out with my friends, let alone get to know all the fascinating new people. With only a handful of breaks each weekend, there really isn't time.
Only seven more weekends. I'm past the halfway point. Only seven more weekends. It seems so final. So limited.
When I first applied to USM, I had a goal that was hard for people to grasp. What was I going to do with this degree? Nothing. I'm not going to USM to be able to do anything different. I'm going there to be different. My friends who are USM graduates have a palpably different way of being in the world. They use different words. They ask different questions. They seem to have a totally different take on any situation. I wanted a new way of being in the world, too.
Maybe that's why November hit me so concretely. Only seven months left to transform myself into a new way of being in the world. Is that enough time? Can I do it? Sure, each weekend has its breakthroughs and lessons. Each month has its new insights and deeper awarenesses. Each one adds onto the others. There is a cumulative effect. Small changes that are unnoticeable in themselves add up to perceptible differences over time. I've been chipping away. But do I have a new way of being yet? Am I on track to have one in the next seven months?
I don't know.
The countdown has begun.I know that transformation is not a linear event. It's a process. It unfolds in fits and starts. It has waves and crescendos and "aha" moments. It has its own agenda. It will happen as it happens.
Meanwhile, I read my books, I do my homework, I keep showing up. It's really all I can do.
I'm committed to USM. I'm sticking it out. I'll be there at graduation to see if I've attained my goal.
I just wish it would take a little bit longer.
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