Apotheosis

Washington, D.C.

September 22, 2011

Apotheosis 

   

  noun (plural apotheoses /-siːz/)

1 the highest point in the development of something; a culmination or climax

2 the elevation of someone to divine status

I began my pilgrimage with an end in mind.  Very often I would imagine the culmination of the journey as we plied our way across and about America.  I had promised myself that I would arrive on September 21 -- God willing -- at the Washington monument, and would take the elevator to the capstone, and that I would find a place to meditate, or reflect.  I prayed to receive a vision of some kind that I could share with others.

The capstone of a pyramid has special significance in occult lore:  it represents “the all-seeing eye of God.”  This idea is reinforced on every U.S. dollar bill.  I could think of no place in our country that would be more charged with the energy of intention than that space, knowing that our first President was a man of spiritual attainment who was very conscious about the selection of the capital city, and the key governmental sites.

In addition, Viveka and I had begun our journey on the 100th anniversary of International Women’s Day, March 8, and we fantasized about a “flash mob” impromptu performance of 100 women representing the most influential women of history dancing along the edges of the reflecting pool in front of the Lincoln memorial.

Finally, since it was the International Day of Peace, we also expected that somewhere in the city there would be some kind of meeting or demonstration or commemoration of the day, which we would be drawn into.

Well, nothing remotely like any of that happened, or was even possible.

First of all, we had learned several weeks earlier that the Washington monument had been closed due to structural damage resulting from a recent earthquake.

Second of all, the reflecting pool was being renovated.  There was only dirt and noisy excavation taking place in the pool area.

Third, we could find only one event in celebration of the International Day of Peace -- some comedians would be “Standing Up for Peace” at the Improv, a comedy club, later that night.

So we changed our plan, and arrived before dawn at the Lincoln memorial so that we could sit on the steps and have our meditation before the crowds arrived.  The Washington monument was only half-visible in the fog across the mall, and we sat sharing the space with security guards and a few dedicated runners and joggers. 

We then “did our last miles” by visiting each of the impressive memorials and monuments in the area:  The Viet Nam War, World War II, The Washington Monument, The Korean Conflict, The Franklin Delano Roosevelt memorial, and the newest one, for Martin Luther King, Jr., which will be inaugurated in October of this year. 

I knew my journey was complete when I saw a black woman in her 60s standing in front of one of the memorable quotations by Dr. King which adorn this impressive memorial, built to express both a mountain of despair and the emergence of hope.  

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that.  

Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that.”

I could tell that she was on the verge of tears, as was I.  My heart went out to her and we hugged each other, complete strangers, soul sisters.  

“Martin wouldn’t want me to cry,” she said.

“I’m not so sure,” I said.  “You won’t mind if I do, will you?”  We cried together.

I told her that I had just completed my walk “across and about” America for the last 6 1/2 months.  Some people overheard me, and soon there was a crowd gathered around.  These were people, I soon learned, all in their 60s and 70s who had all lived through the struggle for civil rights, like myself, and felt defined by that era.  There was a man who had walked with Dr. King in Selma.  There were interfaith people there, people who had been at the Parliament of World Religions in Capetown and Barcelona.  I had been in Barcelona and Melbourne as well.  We all started singing and celebrating and taking pictures.   “We Shall Overcome . . .”

Yes, we even sang “Kumba-ya!”

I couldn’t have planned a more touching or fulfilling “Victory Lap.”  Somehow it felt as though all my friends had showed up!

*   *   *

What I had expected, planned and envisioned as a culmination was not what I got.  Even later that night at the Improv, where we expected to at least see comedians “Standing Up for Peace,” there was no such program!  But I will say this:

Later that afternoon in the garden of the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, where we stopped to rest and have a cup of tea, I did receive a vision.  I am not quite sure I can share it with you in this forum, or if it is appropriate, but I was left with the distinct knowledge and assurance that everything unfolded and is unfolding exactly as it should, and in the great scheme of things, all is well!

Go East, Old Woman!

Hagerstown, MD

September 13, 2011

2:44 p.m.

Go East, Old Woman!

Step-by-step my rhythmic mobility seeks equilibrium while 

Still small roots ground me in beliefs, loves, and fears.

These twisting energies drag yet pull me along.

One foot in front of another,

Is it the one or the other in the lead?

Trusting the movement is my anchor and my raft.

*   *   *

from “Seismic Dream” by Pattie Porter Firestone, 2011

Last week I was interviewed by two reporters for all of the major networks’ affiliate stations in Buckhannon, West Virginia. One reporter asked me what had inspired me to undertake this 6 1/2 month American-Cross-Country-Mother/Daughter-Walkabout Adventure. 

I thought about the one nagging question people had always asked me before we began our walk:  “Why are you walking?”  I remembered my inconclusive -- if truthful -- answer in my first blog months earlier, which was, in essence:  “I’m not really sure I can answer that until after I’ve done it.”  

It was not a cop-out, it was recognition of an observation my son Brian had made, which came in the form of advice.  He had ridden his bicycle across the country twice: once from West to East, and again from North to South, and he said, “Whatever you think this journey is about, it’s not that.  I can assure you that you will discover it has a completely different purpose and meaning for your life than you can possibly imagine.”

So, faced with the reporter’s question, I jumped in at a completely different level, from a place I could not have imagined in the beginning.  I answered, “You’ve heard ‘Go West, young man!’?” I asked.  The reporter nodded.  “Well, this is a matter of ‘reverse pioneering’:  “Go East, Old Woman!”

*   *   *

Since that television interview I have contemplated our journey’s direction from sea to shining sea, from where the sun sets to where it rises.  All of that Western expansion that took up so much of the energies of the 18th and 19th centuries in America we have recapitulated in reverse as we have traversed the land “at the speed of life.” 

It is true:

• We became intimately acquainted with Route 66, the “Mother Road” linking the Mid-West to the Far West, and by which my own family came to Los Angeles, California in the ‘40s from Omaha, Nebraska. 

• We physically walked across the Great Divide in New Mexico, and pictured the water draining into the Pacific Ocean in the West, and into the Mississippi River basin to the East. 

• We logged many miles along the Santa Fe Trail, which allowed settlers to pour into the South West, where the Spanish had already established their version of civilization, still very visible and palpable in the art and architecture and culture.  

• We found the traces of the Wild West that still remain in Dodge City, Kansas, where the Texas longhorns were brought to the rail head along the Chisholm Trail.  The story is told that when an old, bedraggled gold prospector got on the train, the conductor asked him where he was headed.  “Hell,” he replied.  The conductor looked him over and said, “That’ll be eighty five cents.  Get off at Dodge.”

• We came to appreciate the covered wagons, and more than once realized what a deluxe accommodation our old 1984 Ford Lindy Econoline RV was, when compared with the original prairie schooners.  

• We also marveled at the true grit of the Mormons, many of whom were single women heading West pushing hand carts to find their “promised land.”  

• We saw a sod house preserved on the Kansas plains, very similar to the one in Nebraska where my grandmother, who lived to be 99, had been born.  

• When we came to the Mississippi River at St. Louis we began to appreciate the great good fortune of the Louisiana Purchase in 1803 and the import of the expedition of Lewis and Clark, and the important roles that their female Native American guide, Sacajawea, and the black slave York had played.       

The reporter also asked me what I had learned, what stood out in my mind, looking back upon the journey, now that we are within a fortnight of our destination.  I touched on a few impressions in the interview, but now have had more time to consider my answer in more depth.  This journey has brought:

• An opportunity to be enriched by the experience of Native American culture first hand.  Both descendants and living tribespeople have generously shared their ways with us, notably in California, Arizona, New Mexico, illinois, Ohio, Kentucky and Pennsylvania.

• The shattering of stereotypes all along the way.  For example, as a West Coast person, “the flyover states” will never again be just a blip on my radar screen!  Many individuals we met in “the heartland” of America have given me a real appreciation for the meaning of the term.  And there is a lot of heartbreak in the heartland just now as young people move away, and families and farmers scramble for ways to make ends meet. 

• The discovery of my voice and my audience -- especially women over 50 who, like me, find themselves wanting to fulfill their lives, and mend their own heartbreak by finding ways to make a positive impact with the time and energy that remains to them.  The world needs the special music of the grandmothers, let us not die with that music still in us.  Let us step up, step out, and step beyond our fears to express, in the most positive way possible what we have learned -- even if it means teaching what we most WANT to learn.

• The strengthening and deepening of the mother-daughter bond between myself and my daughter, Viveka, and the discovery of a joint spiritual work, best described as “spiritual activism,” which we pursue joyfully together like a passionate hobby, without attachment to outcome!

• The appreciation of all those who settled and built this country -- both male and female, slave and free.  

• A bittersweet recognition of tragic valor, as we took account of all the lives lost -- on both sides -- in the struggle to preserve the Union.

• The solemn recognition of all who fought and died, both “winners” and “losers” on every side of every conflict, both foreign and domestic -- may they rest in peace with the fervent hope that human kind is learning a better way.   As a PeaceWalker, I often think of my great inspiration, Peace Pilgrim, who walked a distance of more than the circumference of the earth (25,000 miles) to honor her vow:  “to be a wayfarer on the earth until mankind shall have learned the ways of peace.” I believe the 20th century did show us that we’ve concretely demonstrated that we HAVE learned the ways of peace, but we are not very good, as yet, at applying what we already know.  Peace is a choice made by individuals, first, from the inside out.  I am clear that I aim to see, in my lifetime a “Department of Peace” in our government.

• The deep contemplation of the maxim “Know Thyself” which has a wide variety of interpretations, from “practice moderation and humility” to “without Self knowledge, all other forms of knowledge are meaningless.”  In seeking to know myself, I have discovered my own shadow, and my own wounded inner child.  I see that my answer to the question “What is wrong with the world?” would be the same as G.K. Chesterton’s:  “i am.”  (meaning the small self)  And the answer to the question, “What is the remedy?” is "I AM" (meaning the greater Self)  

• The importance of a personal daily devotional practice -- for spiritual grounding.

• The extreme gratitude to providence for our health and stamina, and the ability to exercise our freedoms, and to complete this "walk your talk-a-thon."

*   *   *

In just a little over a week, G-d willing, we will reach our destination.  I have been told that it is not possible to ascend the Washington Monument any longer due to structural weakness caused by a recent earthquake.  That had always been my goal:  to sit in the capstone -- if I might be allowed -- and pray for a new vision of this country that could sustain us into the new millennium.  Since this is not possible, I hope to receive a new assignment in the form of a new ritual of completion, which I look forward to sharing with you.

Golden Wedding Day

Patoker/Gamble Horse Stables and Campground

near Paintsville, KY

September 5, 2011

1:45 p.m.

Golden Wedding Day

Put on your old grey bonnet with the blue ribbons on it

And I’ll hitch old Dobbin to the shay;

Through the fields of clover we’ll ride down to Dover

On our Golden Wedding Day.

Before I can tell you how Viveka, Richard and I resolved (or failed to resolve) our differences so that the Sole 2 Soul Mission could continue, I must fill you in on an important part of the process.

While I had chosen to confine myself to the RV during my 4 days of prayer and fasting, practicing what I have called “Tantrum Yoga,” it became clear to me on the “inside,” and to Viveka and Richard on the “outside” as well that I was embedding myself into a “cocoon” for the purpose of some kind of a transformation.  From Viveka’s point of view as the director of a documentary film, she had a “star” who was refusing to come out of her trailer!  From my point of view as the “star” -- the heroine of my own play -- I had come to a point where I simply could not move forward or backward or side to side.  I had to find a way to boost the energy to make a quantum leap into a different orbit.  I had to move into another dimension, as from a two-dimensional to a three-dimensional reality.  What was needed, although I wasn’t even fully aware of it at the time, was some new thought/energy/spirit perspective from “outside the box.”

As luck, or divine order, or providence would have it, I was praying and reading sacred texts, and meditating with the full concentration that only fasting can bring.  I was leaving no possibility out, no stone unturned.  I was invoking all forms of help, from saints, and angels, avatars and ancestors; exploring all pathways, minor and major.  

It was probably on the third day -- although I can’t be sure -- that a series of events conspired to give me a great gift -- from another realm.

When I fast I begin to become aware of the fat disappearing from my bones.  One of the places it leaves first is from the underarms, and then, also from my fingers.  After three days my rings were feeling looser!  It had been close to 30 years since I had worn a wedding ring, but on the fourth finger of my left hand was a very handsome amethyst ring, with a cluster of four good size stones and a small diamond in the middle.  It had been a gift from my mother.  Tears began to flood my eyes as I recalled the story of the ring:

In the Spring of 1984, when my father was just about to leave on a Grand Tour of the Far East with his third wife, he called me with a request.  “I am sending you an anniversary card and some money,” he said.  “I want you to buy a beautiful ring for your mother and give it -- and the card -- to her on what would be our 50th wedding anniversary.”  (I believe the date was in May.)  I agreed, and took my two daughters -- Lila 16 and Viveka 14 -- with me to the mall to make the selection.  My father’s birthday was February 5 and my mother’s was February 12, so we agreed that an amethyst ring would be best to honor their joint Aquarian birth signs.  The ring we chose was the one that pulled my focus to it that afternoon while fasting in the trailer “cocoon.” 

And in that moment of musing it also occurred to me that the date -- that very day -- was August 27, 2011.  Exactly 50 years ago to the day, in 1961, I had been married to Laurence Edward Davis at Fallen Leaf Chapel near Lake Tahoe, California.  Our honeymoon had been a bare bones camping trip into the high sierras above the timber line in a wilderness area called “Desolation Valley.”  How well I remember the adventurous spirit with which we had chosen to begin our married life.  And what a prophetic metaphor we had chosen to challenge ourselves with:  “Desolation Valley.”

This very day was my 50th Anniversary, and I was celebrating it in a very intimate, fully conscious way with my parents’ beautiful anniversary ring, and with only the memory of my deceased ex-husband.  And yet a great gift of healing was given to me in that moment.  The best way to describe it would be like a golden balm or elixir dropping down from above.  The words from Shakespeare’s play “The Merchant of Venice,” accompanied the feeling:  

“The quality of mercy is not strained, 

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven

Upon the place beneath.  It is twice blessed --

It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes.”  

Suddenly the world was illuminated with the freedom of forgiveness:  My father wanting his ex-wife, my mother, to know that there was still a special place in his heart and in his life for her.  And my mother making sure that I had the ring to remind me always of that love.  And my daughters‘ part in selecting the graceful and distinctive piece of heirloom jewelry, symbolizing the family bond that would always exist.  A gift of mercy and forgiveness had dropped down, like a balm from the realm of the ancestors.

There came upon me at that moment, a great sense of completion and fulfillment.  I was overcome with gratitude for everything in my life:  the way things were as well as the way things were not.  It was all so perfect, just so, as it was (and was not) and as it is (and is not) and as it will (and will not) be.  I had reached an unattached and neutral space, simply enjoying the way it IS.

On the following day I came out of the trailer, transformed from the inside out.  I was ready to talk to Richard and Viveka, and to begin to discuss ways that we could come to a win-win-win solution.  After all, there was nothing that I needed to learn or know other than that I was loved, and always had been, and always would be, and that because of this I could reach out to extend that same love to others.

*   *   *  

Viveka and I decided to move on together towards Washington, D.C. on the Sole 2 Soul Walk that we had begun on March 8, 2011.  Richard and I chose to move on through our impasse as well.  Materials were purchased in order to complete the project.  My only request was that we put our agreements and understandings in writing this time, so that there would be no more vague recollections.  I have put my ideas and requirements in writing, waiting for Richard’s response.  At the moment I have done all that I can do to let my positions, preferences, requests AND boundaries be known. 

Clearly, we are not out of the woods, yet.  It still remains to be seen whether we can leave off the recriminations and mutual assaults long enough to get on the same page to put our signatures to our mutual understandings.   But for the moment we have agreed in principle that we want to work something out between us that will benefit all and bring the family healing that is so dearly required.

We left the Cliff View Resort in Rogers, KY on Friday afternoon, September 2, headed towards Campton, KY and the West Virginia border, with only 19 days remaining to arrive in Washington, D.C. on September 21.