Lately, an elderly friend of mine has taken to asking me what was my most elevated thought of the day. This has given me the opportunity to stop and notice from time to time where my head is at. Just like any other part of our routines, our thoughts can become quite habitual and his question has been reminding me that it is good to remember to cultivate elevated ones.
I feel that we are more creative than we realize. Our thoughts, and where we are focusing our minds, are the first step of that creative process.
One of the things that my spiritual teacher, Jana Massey, used to advise, being as we live right next to a major earthquake fault line, was to take care not to envisage disaster in our area. After the Santa Rosa fire, of 2017, here in California, and initially after the Y2K concerns at the beginning of the new millennia, my husband and I have taken the very practical steps advised regarding having an emergency evacuation kit ready-to-go. So, we have copies of our important documents, pet carriers, change of clothing and other essentials packed and gathered should there be need. And though thus prepared, I try not dwell on it. As Jana suggested, I like to see my community as happy and whole and settled in my mind's eye.
Here, on the Central Coast, mere days after a severe heat wave, it is natural to be concerned about the very real results of climate change, and its varied and widespread impacts on human communities and wildlife world wide. This is certainly something that we want to address and give pro-active efforts toward. And though there is always room for improvement, I do much toward that end.
Then, as well, similar to what Jana advised with envisaging peace and tranquility, I also like to make an effort with what might be called spiritual activism, thus I place some of my thoughts positively in the etheric realms as well.
Years ago, I saw a PBS documentary called 'Next Year Country.' It was about the severe drought in Montana, in the early 2000s. Several ranchers, fearing for their livelihoods, pooled their resources and hired a rainmaker. He came from the Mount Shasta area and brought with him large long metal pipes and other equipment and camped out on the land for several weeks. He aligned the pipes with underground water ways and ley lines. Then he chanted and sang. And he laughed and spoke with and got to know the people. And he did indeed call the rain. That year, that corner of the state was green and full of rain and grain.
I've been remembering what the rain-maker said. He explained that clouds are alive and that they are like children or animals or anyone else, and we need to be delighted to see them if we want them to come around. He said we need to let them know how we feel and engage with them, talk to them and smile and celebrate their presence.
So, as one example of my most elevated thought of the day, lately I've been engaging in etheric, spiritual activism by practically jumping up and down with joy at the sight of these big cumulonimbus clouds that have been sailing around the edges of our sky since the two glorious days of gentle rain that fell on our dry ground right after the heat wave. Those drops of rain swirled among the leaves of the oak trees, moistening their branches and the earth and the air. I went out several times and danced in the rain, loving those cold drops on my skin and in my hair. Glad of my happy warm home to come in to, and of the moisture that was soaking deep into the ground.
I remember once coming across a quote. It might have been Ram Dass. In any case, it spoke deeply to me and I'll leave you with this as a beautifully elevated thought for you, if you'd like, to hold for today.
"The foundation of our spirituality is to be appreciative of the gift of life, to have fun, to play, to laugh, to see our lives as a piece of God."
