A while back, Vogue magazine ran an article on natural hair: hair that isn’t treated, colored, curled or straightened. Hair that just does its thing, without artifice or control.

As a person with curly hair, this made me very happy!

It’s not so much that fashion, which often uses artifice as art, is a bad thing: I personally think fashion can be an amazing way to express one’s uniqueness.

But, it’s nice to see authenticity showing up as a trend, instead of conformity. This idea that who we are is enough, no further changes needed.

You know, curly hair (and probably straight hair or any kind of hair) does its own thing.Every day is just a little bit different due to the shims of the wave, and no amount of gel or mousse or spray, or even the most diligent application of heating tools seems to make a difference. After fifteen minutes or so, it’s back to its regular curl pattern.

And this to me, seems the ultimate sign of the Universe: if something wants to curl, needs to curl and does curl… why on earth would we struggle against it?

To be in Flow, is to wear our hair as it desires to be.

Long, short, curly, straight.
Blonde, brown, white, blue.
Dread. Shaved. Heishi knot.

Spiritually speaking too, hair is often deemed our spiritual antenna: one of the ways that we easily tune into the energies of the Universe.

As you can see in this photo of my daughter and me years ago, my hair had some crazy antenna that day! 

What I notice is that when we allow ourselves to step out of conformity and simply be who we are… then that’s when we’re more in tune with the Universe.

We have lots of choices about how we spend our time.

Some of us like to be social.
Some of us like to be out and about.
Some of us like to work.
Some of us like to be relaxed.

For me, I like to spend time on my work and my family, and what I’ve come to understand is that when you’re really committed to something, there isn’t a lot of room for much else.

Thus, I glean time: I actively gather and select and choose those commitments that hold personal value to me, from the larger crop of what’s available.

That means:
I don’t do “shoulds” any more.
I don’t do peer pressure.
I know what I hold as valuable.
I gather that.

I glean time, so that I can put my attention on what’s most important to me.

Of course, we aren’t always in a passage of our life where this can happen immediately. During the years I had four kids at home and several jobs, I had to do a lot of things I didn’t like, all the time.

At first, I just ran on overwhelm and adrenaline.

But later, as choices came up, I started to make them. After being overwhelmed by the schedule of competitive soccer and basketball with two older kids, I said no to competitive sports for the two younger ones. After being drained by the pressure to be on every volunteer committee at school and church, I resigned from all committees. After being exhausted by a city job that required a two-hour commute each day, I took a less glamorous job close to home. And so on.

I made choices.
I pared down.
I said no.

I gleaned out every single minute that was available to me, and pretty soon this gleaning gained momentum, and soon it came to pass that I was no longer a busy person: I wasn’t on the teams, I wasn’t on the committees, I didn’t work in the city.

And with each “no,” with each boundary, with each gleaning of what I wanted vs. what I was “supposed” to do, I became happier and more clear about my true purpose in this life.

In those years, it was a foreign language to say “no.”
Now, I say it all the time!

I have gotten so clear on the value of downtime as the key to creativity, to spaciousness as a gateway to joy, to the understanding that it is much more important to notice and expand, then to go hurtling through this amazing life.

Try it. Say “no.” Glean some time for yourself, and see what happens.

You’ve probably heard the saying “familiarity breeds contempt”?
 
Yet in the tiny Oregon town where I live, I’ve found that familiarity breeds respect.
 
It’s not about homogeneity or cultural sameness, either. The people here don’t get along because they’re similar to each other.
 
In fact, they’re not similar at all.
 
Race, religion, background, belief—whoa! It’s all a very big mix in this farming/college community an hour south of Portland.  
 
But because every one knows each other in a familiar, day-to-day way—as neighbors, workers, families—everyone gives each other a lot of leeway.
 
We give each other space.
 
At the town pub, our diversity shines out.
 
The pub is trendy, because we’re a commuter town to Portland, and all that Tumblr rubs off. The pub serves trendy things like micro brews and cherry ketchup and hemp burgers, and the waiters wear hipster clothes: vests and watch chains and long curling waxed mustaches.
 
It’s hip, it’s happening, a gathering place!
 
So here we all are, bringing our great diversity, all our differences…
 
We mix it up. We give each other space. We pass the cherry ketchup.
 
And we blend and mingle and create a vibration that’s so much more interesting than homogenized sameness. 

​Sometimes people come to me and ask why it is that they can’t do a specific skill, such as see a vision in mediation.

When I ask about their lifestyle, I often find that these are incredibly busy people.

And so I tell them to relax more, to clear their life of overscheduling, to slow down and listen to the still and small. 

Yet more often than not, they find it very hard to do this, or they’re resistant to doing this.

They don’t get how relaxing more will help them: how slowing down will help them speed up their spiritual expansion.

They are so accustomed to go-go-go.
They are so accustomed to do-do-do.
They are so accustomed to think-think-think.

Now, go-do-think are okay if you’re trying to tread water in a linear world.

But if you long to enter the depths of the Mystery, these linear, left-brain, rational approaches don’t work.

It’s like trying to use a chainsaw to peel an orange.

If you’re waiting for God, you have to wait in a relaxed state. You have to relax, have downtime, slow down, get quiet, get still.

God can’t reach you if you’re too busy, or too loud or too noisy in your own head.

You’ll miss all the sweet and subtle signs.

​The Universe sends us signs all the time.
 
We just usually miss them.
 
Very early one morning, I drove down our gravel driveway into the woods, in that kind of dreamy, contemplative state that often comes over me while driving.

It happens when I turn off the radio.
I turn off the “to do” list in my head.
And I allow my soul to flow… moving through space, moving through time, allowing myself to expand into everything.
 
I was in exactly this kind of floaty relaxed state, when I saw a flicker to my right.
 
If I’d had the radio on, I would have missed it.  But fortunately, I was paying attention.
 
I slowed the car... and then I stopped completely and rolled down the window, and witnessed this pretty plump robin, alight on a stone angel, reminding me that spring is here.
 
A robin!
On an angel!
 
Such as simple little sign of hope—that the cold and rain and mud and grey and drear is finally gone for another season—that we will soon have light and breeze and warmth again.
 
Such a simple little sign—the Universe putting a bird on it, so we are reminded once again, of how lovely our earthly paradise, our Gaia, really is.

Moving at the speed of guidance—not too fast, not too hurried, in surrender to whatever shows up— is the way to notice these little signs.
 
Slowing down, noticing, being grateful—is the way to keep them coming.

So many of you tell me you were raised Catholic—from the most casual mass-at-Christmas-and-Easter, to the most devout parochial-school-with-nuns-or-priests. 

Nowadays, many of you are still Catholic, or not Catholic at all—or maybe you're not really sure where the formal religion of your childhood intersects with your new spiritual beliefs. 

I have my own Catholic experience.

I was raised by non-religious parents who sent me to the local convent—which mean nuns wearing dimples,  mass daily, fonts of holy water in the hallway, and statues of St. Frances Assisi everywhere.

Lots of folks didn't have great experiences at Catholic schools, but I did. I converted to Catholicism as an adult, and practiced for many years until my near-death-experience—when everything changed.

In any case, I am familiar with the Easter energy that many of us are feeling now. 

Easter Week is hugely emotional: Maundy Thursday is somber and incredibly sad. Good Friday brings hope. Easter Vigil, which begins Saturday night and at the parish I use to attend, included a blazing bonfire, a swinging vessel of incense... and many, many (did I say many?) hours later, the baptism of all new members of the church in water and chrism. Easter begins during the wee hours of the vigil, and continues on till morning. 

If you have these Easter memories hardwired into your system, you're going to be feeling stuff this week, whether you want to or not. 

Religion has been wonderful for many people.
Religion has wounded many others. 
We each have our own experience. 
But it all comes back, every spring. 

For me, what's best it to acknowledge that the energy swirling around us this week is there, and it affects us. 

So just feel it... feel it all... and let your feelings be released. 
Then take a look around you. 
​
Today, the  daffodils are out, and very soon the tulips will be here. 
​
Notice everything. 
And be in awe.