Finding Peace in a Chaotic World

“Harmony with nature will bring you a happiness known to few city dwellers. In the company of other truth seekers it will be easier for you to meditate and think of God.”

— Paramahansa Yogananda

Everyone is a Seeker. To Find Your Heart You Must Only Listen

If you have read my posts, you know I am a seeker. Lately I’ve been overwhelmed with the rampant excess and waste of the world, specifically the sad state of ocean health. That realization came to me in a quiet place at the Edge. You know, that place I like to wander.

What is a Seeker?

Today I want to discuss what it means to be a seeker, and how hearkening back to this truth about myself brings calmness to an otherwise chaotic world. For me a seeker wants to know everything, and doubts much.

When I wrote Dance of the Hummingbirds I was seeking truth about genetic memories. Is it possible that our brains hold the experiences, thoughts, and dreams of our ancestors in an oft-suppressed repository? Is déjà vu nothing more than an ancestral memory bubbling to the surface of consciousness?

As time goes by, more and more is revealed about our biological connections to past, present, and future. So what do we really know?

While writing Dance I dug into the research of Carl Jung,  renowned psychiatrist of the early  to mid-20th century. His theories suggested, if not confirmed, the possibilities I was exploring. 

Genetic memories will again play a part in the novel I’m now writing. The intertwining of the lives and journeys of Thorynn and Atsidi, and of course Lillie Lisle, a 21st century archaeologist, is fascinating. Have you ever considered those ancestral experiences you might hold deep within you?

Was Einstein a Seeker?

But what about seeking? I’m curious about Albert Einstein’s theories of the universe. I don't pretend to understand his great mind, but he discussed specifically how our perceptions create our reality.

We have five senses through which the world is filtered. What's out there beyond those five senses? When I reach into the space around me, what exists that is not defined by my sense of touch. What beautiful sounds create harmony beyond my sense of hearing? Is there music I will never hear? Bouquets of scents? Tastes? Visual miracles that my optic nerve cannot capture?

Sit alone in a forest or quietly in your backyard

Just sit and notice what surrounds you. Nature transcends our being? Is removing ourselves from nature, removing us from our timeless soul?

We are so very limited in our capacity to capture the very essence of this life we live, yet so convinced we know that we turn to violence to convince others that our perceptions are real, are right. In what realm does the plastic pollution I’m so obsessed with exist? In what realm do territorial boundaries exist? In what realm does mine and theirs exist?

Meditation is a practice which can take me to a place outside my senses. But what happens there? Is God, Allah, Jehovah, Siva, (or whichever moniker you want to attach to the vast universal presence) integral to the experience? Or is meditation simply a biological phenomenon unattached to deities and universal synchronicities?

I would love to hear your thoughts. I believe that the seeing that comes through meditation can bring peace. But I'm a seeker and know so little.

I am exploring this Edge in my daily experiences and writing. What is the Edge you are exploring? If you’re interested in joining me on the journey, I’m delighted to have you along.

As always Fair Winds

“I find the great thing in the world is not so much where we stand, as in what direction we are standing.”

— Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Linda JB Herrick, writer

P.S. Lissa Coffey’s Daily Wisdom offers insight and peace to me each morning. You might like to read her words.

Oh, Is That a Thing?

5 Ways We Can Stop the Assault on our Oceans

“The earth will not continue to offer its harvest, except with faithful stewardship. We cannot say we love the land and then take steps to destroy it for use by future generations ”

— John Paul II

The Story

I asked for paper at the grocery checkout several years ago. You remember those days when baggers asked you – paper or plastic?

The paper/plastic onus is now on the customer. Failing to say PAPER, means you get plastic. Heaven forbid I forget my bags. But it happens and once I realize it I must begin my checkout line mantra – paper, paper, paper, or I will forget during the checkout confusion.

Amidst the chaos of swiping or inserting my plastic credit card, searching for my plastic loyalty card, and trying to remember where I parked, it’s a wonder I leave with my sanity let alone paper bags.

Back to the story.

When I asked for paper, the young man bagging my groceries raised an eyebrow and questioned my selection.

 “More dead trees?” he asked.

Oh my. I stopped mid-checkout pandemonium and jumped straight into my teacher shoes. If I had a Bill Nye the Science Guy mask, I would have put it on.

“Trees,” I replied, “are a renewable resource. Plastic bags are manufactured using oil, a non-renewable resource. Once we consume the remaining oil resources, there will be no more. Can’t grow oil. We can grow more trees.”

A pleasant discussion followed about the term “non-renewable,” and I was out the door, paper bags in hand, searching the parking lot for my car.

The enlightenment of this young man took place long before I understood plastic grocery bags had become a much deeper problem than trees and oil. A recent photograph of plastic bags in the Mariana Trench – the deepest part of the ocean – is awakening the world to yet another human-wrought tragedy.

Another story.

Before Christmas my daughter accompanied me to Home Depot to buy our Christmas tree. I asked the young lady who trimmed the trunk, to not put plastic webbing on it. (Everything must be bagged now, even Christmas trees)

As young folks do, or don’t, she was oblivious to my request. The tree was delivered to our truck cocooned in orange plastic. Much to my daughter’s mortification, I asked the young lady to remove the plastic,  I thought I asked nicely.

Here is the conversation that followed.

My daughter: “Mom, you could ask in a nicer tone,” and then to the young lady, “she doesn’t like plastic.”

Young lady: “Why?”

My daughter: “Because it’s bad for the earth.”

Young lady: “Oh, is that a thing?”

I nearly lost it but managed to stay silent while the young lady removed the plastic.

“Is that a thing?”

Yes, it’s a thing. And that thing is strangling the planet. Our oceans are becoming saturated in plastic waste as they swallow eighteen billion pounds every year. Beaches are plastic cesspools. Debris is vomited up by the oceans then swallowed again at next tide. Rivers slog along laden with plastic fishing nets, water bottles, and plastic bags.  The millions of marine creatures affected are helpless to stem the onslaught.

We are suffocating our planet with plastic and our kids don’t have a clue what is happening around them.

I live in the desert, yet am consumed with ocean health because the world is more than just the ecosystem in which I live

The global community is awakening to the problem, and many countries are taking steps to ban single-use plastics. But what about the U.S.?

Aside from California and Hawaii, state legislatures are pushing back under pressure from – you guessed it – plastics manufacturers and the plastic bag industry. In 2017 Michigan became the seventh state to ban single-use plastic bag bans. Did you get that? States are banning community bans. Wow! And my state of Arizona is among those seven.

Community efforts to ban single-use plastics are being squashed by state legislatures because those politicians hold a narrow view of their job – being re-elected with money from big companies.

Unlike our state politicians, I can see a bigger picture. When it rains, the plastic bags, cups, lids, and straws littering the dry riverbeds of my desert home wash into the waterways and dump into the seas.

Yes, the message is dire, but there must be a glimmer of hope. It’s up to each of us to fan the glimmer into a flame. Legislatures don’t have to ban single-use plastics, we can simply stop using them.

Efforts are underway to solve the massive problem we’ve created, but to restore health to the planet every one of us must take personal responsibility. We can do it. We MUST do it.

How can we begin to end the assault?

1.  Educate! Building awareness is key to changing a culture of waste. National Geographic magazine has made a commitment to the problem, but you don’t have to be an international magazine to educate.

2.  Recycle all plastics: Pack up the film used to wrap everything from soup to nuts and take it back to the grocery store. Most stores have a bin for the filmy bags and all those unnecessary wrappings. 

Make sure your trash removal company recycles. If it doesn’t, find one that does.

3.  Refuse single-use plastics:

If you must have a straw, buy reusable straws

Make a spork your ‘go to’ utensil when you’re on the road

Say no to plastic water bottles. BYOB (or cup)

4.  PickUp3 – Beaches, roadways, hiking trails, etc. When you are out and about, pick up three pieces of litter and recycle.

5.  Contribute to cleanup efforts 4Ocean is an organization founded by two scuba divers who saw a problem and are taking action. Check them out here.

#PickUp3 - Pass it on.

Exploring the Edge →

Never mind lugging the suitcase. Just back in. 1st stop: Santa Rosa, NM

One of my favorite people, Helen Keller, said, “Life is either a great adventure, or it is nothing.”

Her words have always resonated with me, and seeking adventure has punctuated the many different periods of my life.

Adventure can take many forms. Some people experience it through reading great books. Some spend their lives exploring the great adventure of the spirit within. Some travel the seas or the continents, or both.  And some want to experience it all.  A day in the backyard planting a beautiful garden is as much an adventure to one as traveling the globe is to another.

My question is, what is it within each of us that one person is happy to adventure in their own backyard but another feels an urge to venture out and peek around every corner?

Pickin' black-eyed peas with Karen and Pickles. You can guess which is which.

Kayaking with sister, Amy, on the Harpeth River in Tennessee.

As I write this, I am at my son’s home in Chicago. Each day is filled with the surprises of a two-year-old and an almost four-year-old as they explore the world around them. Yesterday, we experienced the marvel of a solar eclipse. Today we are putting the planets on our shirts, naming each one. Is Mercury hot or cold? What about Jupiter? On August 21, Brad’s back deck was an adventure for all of us. I’m sure it was for you as well. The adventure for Henry and Tommy was, “why are the grown-ups wearing those weird glasses, and why do they keep putting them on our noses?”

Tommy and Henry at Lake Tippecanoe  Indiana

Monday, I will board a Swedish Airlines jet for Greece because I am one of those people who is driven to explore around the next corner. Gardens are beautiful things. I love gardens, but I want to see all of them.

There will be a layover in Stockholm, which will allow me time to take a bus to the tiny medieval village of Sigtuna. The sequel (in process) to Dance of the Hummingbirds takes part largely in Sigtuna. This small beginning in 980 CE grew to become Stockholm.

What mysteries await? What will I discover just over the edge?

Staying on the island of Kalymnos

The following morning I will fly from Stockholm to Athens, take a bus to Piraeus (the port of Athens) and board an overnight ferry to a tiny island near the coast of Turkey. Kalymnos is one of a group of Greek islands called the Dodecanese.

Dodecanese means twelve islands. I suppose that’s the number of islands discovered by the early Greek seafarers. There are many more than twelve. I won’t argue with the Greeks because I do know the island of Telendos was lopped off of Kalymnos in a 6th century earthquake, and some are called islets, not islands.  Homer could not have been aware all of these details. He was blind after all.  

For four weeks I will live alone in paradise to explore and to write. No family members will accompany me, no friends for security. This is a solo adventure. My time alone will be an exploration of the edge. What will I find?

What Do You Believe?

I'm home from Tennessee and a journey back to my childhood. Reminiscing with my family takes me to places I haven't visited for years. The experience is at the same time joyous and heartbreaking. As I grow wiser along this grand journey, I often reflect on what was and what could have been, but the greatest challenge for me has been one of spirit.

Jennifer Pastiloff is a new FaceBook friend I am following and she asked a simple question today:

“Do you believe in God? What does it mean to be spiritual, to you? Whether you believe in God, or something God-like or The Universe or none of the above, I would love to hear your thoughts below. Intelligent and respectful comments only.”

— Jennifer Pastiloff

Pausing to consider the grandeur.

After some thought I answered the following: 

I believe in God because I was brought up to believe in God. What God is to me has changed many times through the years as spirituality is ever-present in my life. I no longer subscribe to any particular religion because my God is bigger than any of them. When I was young I felt very close to God and have explained that as having just left the womb of heaven; As I grow older, I am rediscovering the longing to be reunited with an entity that is beyond my understanding. I have always loved the verse from I Corinthians, Chapter 13: Now I see through a glass darkly, but then shall I see face to face. God is beyond, but some day I will know.

Now I ask you to weigh in on this question. Lillie Lisle explores the question from many perspectives in Dance of the Hummingbirds. If you would like to know more about Lillie's thoughts, I challenge you to read her story. For now, I'd like to know what you think. 

Continue to enjoy your journey and from time to time, stop a moment to dance.

 

Romance of the Sea

When I plotted my blogging course, I decided I should stay focused on the themes of my novel Dance of the Hummingbirds.  But, after a good deal of reconsidering -- this is after all my musings, my journey, although indeed  I have invited you along -- I must turn again to my passion for the sea.

​The Siren's Lure

But “aha,” you say. “The sea is a theme in your novel.”

I’m glad to see you’re paying attention. Yes, Thorynn shares my passion for the sea and I will continue to explore his passion in the sequel to Dance. It’s currently in its formative period.

My passion for sailing is purely romantic. Being elbow deep in engine parts, sanding and staining brightwork, or fiddling with navigation equipment really isn’t my cup of tea. As a certified bareboat sailor I do know my way around the technical side of a vessel, and wouldn’t be worth my salt if I wasn’t prudent about safety and maintenance, but my reveries have never indulged much in the way of bilge water, burping engines, and GPS (God please save us) devices. I plot my course on a paper chart; love the physicality of manually raising the main and cranking in the headsail to catch just the right breath of wind. My prayer to Neptune usually goes “please watch over the holding tank and keep it holding.”

It’s the moment when the sails are set, the winds are fair, and the seas are following, when I just become… It’s the majesty and the power and the awe of the sea that tugs at my soul.

This is  the sea that tempted Thorynn, and lured him on an odyssey to lands unknown.

I wonder why?

What are We Humans Really? or, Ontogeny Does What?

Exploring the Edge - A Blog RSS

One of the arcane snippets bandied about by my Dad while I was growing up was ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny.  

“Do you know what that means?” He looked me directly in the eye, because an answer was expected. My reply?  Always “no.” Dad invariably followed with “Well then, go look it up.”

I would answer with an, “ok,” and hurry off to more important things like canoeing, trapezing into the river,  or cheer practice.

For reasons unknown, the phrase stuck with me. Perhaps it was the enigma, or its rhyme, or the way it rolled off my tongue when it occasionally crossed my mind. Ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny – mysterious words with a musical sound – became encapsulated and stored someplace along the periphery of conscious and unconscious, randomly surfacing to amuse me and, of course, remember Dad.

I went on to college, majored in psychology and anthropology, and never heard those words – ever. Time went by. Weeks became months and then years. At some point I found myself becoming ever more intrigued by psychologist Carl Jung, and his theories of the unconscious. Not in a formal sense, mind you, just curiosity.

Oddly, several years ago my son Robert gave me a book for Christmas, Pilgrim by Timothy Findley is a fictional tale of Carl Jung’s life. There within the story were those magical words – ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny – along with a detailing of Jung’s idea that we may inherit the memories of our ancestors, caching them away in our subliminal archives.

You bet I looked it up!

​Haekle's model of development

Ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny is the now debunked theory posited by German zoologist Ernst Haeckel in the mid-1800s. Its premise holds that as an advanced species develops, it passes through the evolutionary stages represented by adult organisms of more primitive species. For example, a human embryo will undergo changes in utero in a specific order from fish (gill slits that become ears) to amphibian to human. Each successive stage in the development of an individual represents one of the adult forms appearing in its evolutionary history.

So what does all of this mean to my writing journey, my story? The answer is a question: Do we hold the collective memories of our ancestors filed away in that 90% of our brain we call the unconscious? If we do, are dreams, paranormal and déjà vu occurrences merely the resurfacing of our grandparents’ life experiences? Are past-life regressions not about our lives at all, but rather a prodding and poking of the primal memory bank, a stirring up of the daily lives of our ancestors? Do we have a library of our own evolutionary history stored in the deep recesses of our temporal lobes, more easily accessed by some of us than others? This is what Lillie Lisle, a curious young archaeologist living in Tucson, Arizona, seeks to know. Dance of the Hummingbirds is her search for meaning, her story of journeying into the depths of the psyche.

It is my hope that scientists who are conducting new studies on our brains reexamine their expulsion of Haeckel’s theory. Maybe ontogeny really does recapitulate phylogeny?

Yes, I looked it up. Thanks Dad.