Debra Basham

Living and Loving

Tag: Reverend Debra Basham

  • What Are You Doing Today?

    The farmer may only be planting a seed,
    but if he opens his eyes
    he is feeding the whole world.
    ~ Omaha Bee

    This opening quotation kicked off a precious story about a three-person construction crew who was approached by a man asking what each was doing. The first said he was working for pittance and was getting tired, the second said he was laying concrete, the third (a woman, in the version I read) said, “I am building a hospital where people will receive needed medical care and many lives will be saved.”

    The man responded, “Yes… You are building my hospital.”

    The man was the benefactor, and he made the woman head over the entire project.

    I don’t know if this story actually happened as it is written, but the essence of this story is happening all over the planet at every moment as we are either working for a pittance, laying concrete, or saving lives.

    What are you doing today?

    Deep Spring Center
    Thought for Today

    You ask why there seem to be increasing obstacles. If you’re muddling around thinking about being more loving and caring and connected in your lives but not really doing much about it, negative polarity can relax. They see you’re not really getting anywhere. Since WWII, there has been a tremendous move toward positive polarity in the world. Many old souls are coming into birth, especially in the past 30 years. Here are many beings really intent on finding a way to live with love in the world rather than with an ‘eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth’ doctrine. Negative polarity looks around and says, ‘What’s happening? This is getting out of hand! Look how loving they’re becoming. Let’s toss in some opposition here.’ ~ Aaron

    Deep Spring has a new blog! Here is a link to the first post: The Vibration of Love is Protection from COVID-19

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  • Order, Disorder, Reorder

    Twelve minutes late coming to join the Southern Circle Poets writing group, I have been transplanting some flowering things that have been blooming beautifully along the left edge of our driveway all summer. We are scheduled to have work begin tearing up the old concrete and blacktop, and putting in a continuous concrete driveway from the sidewalk to the door of our barn. John hopes it will work for shuffleboard!!!

    Yesterday when I mentioned my desire to transplant the flowering things, he queried as to if they were wildflowers or weeds. “What is the difference?” I asked. “Perhaps we just call them weeds because no one sells them at the garden shoppe.” They are beautiful, they are healthy, and they are contributing oxygen to the planet. It is worth a try to keep them alive….

    Simultaneously, I have been going through major disorder in my front bedroom/office/meditation hall. My HP PC crossed the rainbow bridge. (English: My desktop computer cannot be repaired.) I had big stuff tied to that PC: a big tower, a huge monitor, an external camera, a professional Brother laser printer, great-sounding Bose speakers. The PC’s valued accessories generated a need within me to hold onto it all when we downsized three years ago. And now what was is no more.



    Things have changed, and I am now working towards freeing up space. I will use my laptop as my ONLY computer. Unless you count my iPhone….

    So for days now I have been purging files to get the contents of four two-drawer file cabinets down to three.

    I am still somewhat in grief about my Brother printer. This has been a fantastic printer. I have cranked out client intake forms, NLP certificates, myriad lunch-and-learn handouts, and lots of poetry.

    Perhaps it has not yet been determined what will go or stay. Not only is this printer quite large, but the installation is on a CD and my laptop does not have a CD player. I know one can purchase an external CD player but I just don’t know if I want to accommodate the size of this printer.

    I will figure it out as I go along. I did determine that I can use my Bose speakers with my laptop when I want really good sound.

    Things are in disorder around schools. Two Midwestern universities announced on Tuesday that they will be modifying their fall plans because of the coronavirus pandemic. University of Notre Dame has suspended all in-person classes for at least two weeks due to the swell of coronavirus since students returned August 10. A letter from the President of Michigan State University stated: “Effective immediately, we are asking undergraduate students who planned to live in our residence halls this fall to stay home and continue their education with MSU remotely.”

    A friend who teaches K-12 was struggling with whether or not to take an early retirement from teaching. An important piece for her is that she can now retire with medical benefits — a big deal as she is a survivor of breast cancer.

    So much is going on. Old habit energy is amplified. Some people are paralyzed by panic. Others are already seeing opportunities opening up. I suggested my friend might benefit by creating and using a breath prayer, such as “I will figure it out as I go along….”

    My friend laughed so hard she cried, but the truth is we have all been doing that all along. In this ‘disorder’ phase we can see that clearly. It allows you to relax about it.

    I have found things in this office space while purging that I did not even know I had. You do want to keep the important stuff. As you anticipate reorder, notice what is truly important. Let go of the everything else. We will figure it out as we go along…

    Look at all the space that is being created!

  • Mario’s Italian Market Remains!

    In response to “When Everything Falls Apart, What Remains?” posting, I received a precious email message from a Florida writer-friend.

    Thank you, Paul, for igniting my heart by sharing your powerful writing of your poignant experience.

    (Soft edits only!)

    Welcome to the Yellow Brick Road, and please come again….

      Dear Debra,

      I stared at the title of your recent blog for moments before I opened and read the email.

      The title described exactly, in a few short words, what I’ve been feeling for weeks. Seems that we’ve experienced a string of negative events these past few months that have made July/August 2020 among the most unforgettable in recent memory.

      I’ve tried to remain positive, yet have found this challenging.

      Although not the root cause, COVID-induced separation is a likely contributor to a nagging sense of disconnect.

      I wonder sometimes if we’ve gotten too good at “social distancing.” We stay at home; work from home in separate rooms; spend all day in different mindsets. We frown under our mask if someone is shopping in the wrong direction in the supermarket aisle. We are cautioned to avoid people who are sick, when we used to be encouraged to do the opposite.

      E.M. Forster begins his novel “Howard’s End” with the words “only connect.”

      A final thought on human interaction and connectedness: One of our favorite activities since moving to Southwest Florida is shopping at Mario’s Italian Market in Fort Myers.

      Having grown up in Brooklyn with parents who were raised in Little Italy, I feel qualified to comment on the salumeria experience in America.

      The magic of Mario’s is that everyone there—regardless of ethnicity or nationality—is for that moment bound together by a familiarity and fondness for this food. We make sure that number 75 doesn’t answer before we hold up our ticket number 76. We ask the woman who ordered the long-hot peppers if they’re really hot; she replies with a smile and left-right wag of her hand. The counter man offers a sample slice of Calabrian salami—an inducement to order a half-pound instead of a quarter. We discuss the merits of gorgonzola versus blue cheese with a stranger.

      Perhaps this is what will remain when everything falls apart.

    Perhaps, when everything falls apart, what remains is everything that is loved….

    You are loved, Paul!

  • When Everything Falls Apart, What Remains?

    I am technically practicing silence in a meditation retreat at Heartwood Refuge and Retreat Center in Hendersonville, North Carolina. But I am attending via Zoom and my fingers are on the keyboard. The focus of this retreat with John Orr is When Everything Falls Apart, What Remains? This was John’s blurb about the retreat:

      Our world has seen a massive upheaval as a result of the coronavirus pandemic, the continuing racism and political divisiveness. We are all having to deal with changes in our lives and the communities we live in. At times it may seem like everything is falling apart and we are left with a profound feeling of uncertainty. Now more than ever the dharma and our meditation practice can be a refuge to meet the present challenges.

      During this retreat we will explore the ancient teachings of:

      The Don’t Know Mind (making friends with uncertainty)

      Impermanence (this too shall pass)

      Dissolution (when everything falls apart, what remains?)

      Non Duality (Something isn’t separate from Everything)

      Our meditation draws on Mindfulness, Vipassana and Pure Awareness. Clear instruction will be offered for all levels.

      Loving Kindness and Compassion Meditation and chanting are also part of our retreat together. A special focus will be how to practice and hold our hearts open with the inconvenience, discomfort and uncertainty of today’s world.

    On Wednesday afternoon before the retreat began, I had yet another tender conversation with our daughter about our diverse approach to precautions related to this virus. We did not argue, but we make very different choices. A few hours later, during the opening introductions, I received news from a good friend–also attending via Zoom–that she was not feeling well. Here is the rest of the story, posted on Facebook a few moments ago in response to another friend, Kate:

    Kate posted:
    I feel like I’m one of the few people still practicing social distancing, and sheltering in place. FB is full of pics of people out to restaurants, at pools and beaches or sharing space with relatives they haven’t seen in awhile. I would love to see our kids but I can’t guarantee I’m not infected nor can they. Am I just over sensitive to this?

    I responded to Kate:
    Kate, THANK YOU! I could have written this post. Today I would add that another friend, thinking the same way you and I have been thinking, relented and got together with her family.

    Her adult children drove in from out of state, each household traveling in separate vehicles, taking proper precautions along way.

    Each household brought a tent. My friend rented a party-potty and set up an outdoor kitchen. My friend’s family did not enter her house, and when the family went hiking each family drove in his/her own car. They maintained social distance along the trail.

    Shortly after they arrived, her daughter’s partner received a call from work that his colleague had tested positive. He got in their vehicle and drove to the nearest location and had a Covid test.

    Of course the results from his test didn’t come back until AFTER he was already back home, and not until AFTER he was already symptomatic. His test came back positive.

    On Wednesday evening, gathered via Zoom, my friend reported that she had a “wicked cold” and had gone to get a Covid test. She would know in a week.

    Yesterday, she sent a private message via Zoom chat, “I tested positive. I have COVID.”

    Even the precautions level that you and I are committed to, may not be enough….

    Kate, keep teaching by example! So much to learn from this.

    ❤️🙏🏼🦋

    Deep Spring Center
    Thought for Today

    It is not the teacher who is the authority; it is the dharma that is the authority. It is sati, mindful presence, which is the authority. It is awareness, which is the authority. It is the deeply loving and open heart that is the authority. It is the Ground of Being, the divine essence of each, which is the authority. The teacher who has done his or her work, understands the practice and has developed a depth of realization of how things are, has no need to be the authority to another, but is willing to offer what he or she knows with a certainty, offering it for the guidance of others, but with no need to say, ‘This is it!’ If it really is it, others will discover that through their own practice. ~ Aaron

  • To Open or Not to Open

    Acceptance is the goal —
    acceptance and freedom to choose what we want and need to do
    to take care of ourselves with that person.

    We can become free of the patterns of the past.

    We are recovering.

    Progress is the goal.

    ~ The Language of Letting Go,
    Daily Meditations on Codependency
    by Melody Beattie

    Last evening I received an email message from our local YMCA with a subject line: Action Needed! Ask state lawmakers to reopen your Y!

    This morning in an online news article Dr. Fauci warns of “early signs” that an outbreak could be brewing in Tennessee, Kentucky, Ohio and Indiana. Right now, 93%, or 89 of Tennessee’s 95 counties, have a transmission rate “above the threshold.”

    Related to the coronavirus, most everyone would agree that progress is the goal. Obviously, however, opinions differ regarding in which direction progress lays.

    A friend heard on the news this morning that risk of exposure in our area is currently 4%. Her comment was that the low percentage may give people the feeling that not complying with guidelines (primarily wearing masks and maintaining safe distancing) is safe.

    I said, “If you want to untangle a knotted string, it is crucial to know which end of the string you are holding.”

    Four percent is a direct result of the strict guidelines that have been in place. The number does not mean, “Oh, we don’t have much Covid, so lets throw a big party to celebrate.” Rather, what it really means is, “Thankfully, our actions are making a difference, and lives are being saved. We can get through this together.”

    I took two photos this morning. One is a stink bug on my kitchen window; the other a moth on my office window.


    Seeing the delicate moth generated an inner smile; the big fat stink bug, repulsion.

    I understand businesses wanting to reopen, but is reopening an indoor exercise facility wise? Is sending out an email message urging members to pressure lawmakers to allow them to reopen a responsible act?

    This morning as I notice my inner preferences, I open email to the quotation from Abraham Hicks:

    If you will simply imagine your life as you want it to be, all cooperative components will be summoned. And even more important, all components that are summoned will cooperate. It is Law. The experience that you have with others is about what you evoke from them.

    Excerpted from The Vortex on 8/31/09

    Our Love,
    Esther
    (and Abraham and Jerry)

    I imagine Tennessee learning from Florida. I imagine Y members writing to the Y expressing the willingness to be patient. I imagine the stinky and the delicate co-existing in the balance of nature. I imagine acceptance and freedom to choose what we want and need to do to take care of ourselves…. I imagine all beings coming to the end of suffering.

  • Queen Stinky

    For this is wisdom; to live,
    To take what fate, or the Gods, may give.
    ~ Laurence Hope

    Wouldn’t it be great to have the name Hope! Or Faith! Cope is the maiden name of a friend. My own name (Debra) means busy bee in colloquialism, and she who brings the sublime light of the creator in the Egyptian cartouche.

    “We can’t control the events of our lives…” was the next line in the daily reading that opened with the quotation by Laurence Hope.

    This was also the theme of Tuesday’s meditation group with Sheilana Massey, who asked us to reflect on whether we are living our life, or letting our life live us. She asked, “When things are not going our way, are we trying to make it do that?”

    Someone shared a Quaker Saying, “The way will open related to that.”

    I asked, “Do we have to make something wrong in order to learn?”

    A woman mentioned how scientists and mathematicians are now coming to the same conclusions about the world spiritualists have long held.

    I have been dancing with demons expressing as insecurity around lack of formal education, comparing my poetry writing to others, and feeling not good enough. Familiar stories….

    Last evening just about dusk we had a surprise visitor at our bird feeder.

    Reading in Animal-Speak, by Ted Andrews:

    Skunk teaches how to give respect, expect respect, and demand respect.

    It is self-assured and confident in itself.

    If skunk has shown up, it can help you with this particular aspect.

    (p. 312-313)

    Yes, I have been dancing with demons but I have come to value the dancing as exercise — not in futility, but fertility.

    This particular skunk is absolutely gorgeous. I have never seen one so white or so fluffy. My sister, Janis, named this one Queen Stinky. I like that name very much….

  • Overcast

    Overcast

    It is overcast today
    Four months since I
    freely hugged
    or leaned over the
    puzzle table
    saying, “Where do you think
    this piece goes?”
    to my companion

    In search of where each piece fits
    Longing for the satisfaction
    completion brings

    The sun is up there
    Still shining
    but my world feels grey today

    I still embrace those I love
    In my hands I cradle
    sweet faces
    in my heart
    even though it is overcast today

    I wonder how you got where you are, here by the edge of the concrete, where you bloom.

    I also wonder how I got where I am.

    It occurs to me that I might be a volunteer like this precious petunia. The conditions are right for our growth. Mine and this purple pretty.

    As a writer, I have never been afraid I would have nothing to say. Never has the empty page intimidated me. The space is invitation. The movement of my fingers on the keyboard itself an inspiration. I watch letters appear as if by magic, having left my discursive mind at the door.

    This is a time like none other. What I have to say seems to have been said better by others.

    I witness this blankness on the page as evidence of the void my heart feels. Not once in his thirty years have I gone this long without being with my him. My first grandchild. My grandson. I remember well his words, “When I am not in my house, and you are not in your house, I am going to miss you.”

    He was two.

    We have met half-way, in Colombus, Indiana, for the weekend. We are staying in a suite at the Holiday Inn. His grandpa and I sleeping in one room and his mom and he sleeping in the other.

    We two are the only ones awake. The small round table and the two chairs where we are seated as he moves the cheerios around in his bowl bear witness to our soft voices as he verbalizes our one heart.

    He points to our separate rooms as he speaks. He has a good sense of what is to come. He knows his grandpa and I will go back to Michigan and he will go with his mom back to Tennessee.

    He knows we will long for one another.

    He knows his mom will wait until he is asleep before she heads south as his grandpa and I head north. Otherwise he would cry and nothing would console him.

    I now gather these memories in the tendrils of my current longing — my longing to hold so much and so many.

    It is overcast today.

    I allow my mind’s eye to blink away the tears until I can see far enough into our future to touch his flesh, smell his breath, and feel the roar of relief.

    We must be gentle with ourselves as we navigate the waters of our emotions.

  • Don’t Go Back to Sleep

    This morning I saw a wonderful quotation by Bruce Chatwin, an English travel writer, novelist and journalist. Although Patagonia, his first book, cast him as a travel writer, in his own mind Chatwin was a storyteller. His true passion was bringing to light unusual tales.

    Chatwin’s quotation that caught my eye is: “Man’s real home is not a house but the road, and life itself is a journey to be walked on foot.”

    I was inspired to write the following poem.

    No “I”

    19 March 2007

    Seated in a large room
    filled to capacity with the
    community’s most
    influential

    “Modern medicine
    is
    like
    mopping up the mess
    without
    turning off
    the faucet”

    Someone
    in the audience
    asked
    “What is the difference
    between wellness and illness?”

    Placing the marker
    ceremoniously
    on the clean
    white page
    of the flip chart,
    Dean Ornish, M.D. wrote:

    WELLNESS
    ILLNESS

    Standing
    for a moment
    in stillness
    breathing
    before
    circling the ‘WE’ in wellness
    and the ‘I’ in illness

    before pausing again

    then speaking slowly

    “The difference
    between WE and I,”

    he continued

    “There is no “I”
    in wellness.”

    A few other comments from that talk:

    When you are going to indulge yourself, don’t tell yourself it is good for you.

    People are not afraid to make big life style changes, they have kids!

    These are choices worth making even if you don’t live one day more—because you will feel better.

    Pain is not the problem, it is just the messenger. Bypassing pain is like clipping the wires on your smoke detector and going back to sleep.

    I will close this post with a poem by Rumi, a 13th Century Persian poet, and Sufi mystic:

    Don’t Go Back to Sleep

    The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
    Don’t go back to sleep.

    You must ask for what you really want.
    Don’t go back to sleep.

    People are going back and forth
    across the doorsill
    where the two worlds touch.

    The door is round and open.
    Don’t go back to sleep.

    Attending that talk way back in March of 2007, reading Rumi, being a Healing Touch Certified Practitioner and learning NLP and Hypnosis, has been my walking the journey of my life on foot. I have been and continue to be dedicated to helping Western medicine transition from an “I”llness based system to a “WE”llness based lifestyle.

    If you are reading this, that has been part of your life on foot, too.

    Don’t go back to sleep….

  • Through the Darkness

    Start where you are,
    use what you have,
    do what you can.

    ~ Arthur Ashe

    I am tempted to schedule this to post so readers don’t know that I have my fingers on the keyboard at 4:21 am while on retreat. If I were not retreating via Zoom because of COVID-19, I would not have the option. I would have a room mate and I would be awake and watching the mind movements. I am awake. And I am watching the mind movements. And my fingers are on the keyboard.

    This week I have been doing seva (service) by transcribing audio for our teacher, Barbara Brodsky. Most of you know that Barbara is deaf. Because she is channeling the teachings, she “hears” what was taught only after someone listens to the voice memos and sends her a document. I have been doing that for her almost real time. This, along with Barbara’s releasing the raw audios to the students, is a huge change.

    The catalyst of these changes is COVID, but, the benefit of the changes is trust.

    Last night’s evening talk, a summary of this group’s two-year commitment to the Dharma Path, began with the question, “What is the Dharma Path?”

    First, is the truth of duhkha, a Sanskrit word usually thought to mean suffering. The clearest meaning is a wheel that is off center causing the vehicle (car or cart) to lurch. Lurching makes the ride very uncomfortable, further amplified by our expectation that the ride should be smooth.

    Human beings can get off center and lurch. Suffering because we have aversion to the lurching, we grasp for the expectation and desire for no lurching.

    COVID-19 has amplified the lurching, and the aversion and grasping. Lots of duhkha…. but there is a path out.

    Earlier in the retreat, we were to answer the questions, “In this moment, what is the hardest thing for me to hold in love? What seems to sit outside of the heart?” I wrote down one word: IGNORANCE. A saying that represents ignorance is rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic. Wasted effort. Squandered resources. Denial. Refusal to look with the eyes of love.

    A couple of evenings ago watching two juvenile birds at the bird bath inspired a poem:

    I AM That

    The juvenile bluebird
    standing stiffly
    in the center of the bird bath

    The young starling
    watching in amazement
    before jumping in and splashing exuberantly

    As much as saying
    “Here, I’ll show you
    so you can enjoy it too”

    Exiting the bath
    Making space for the willing-to-learn
    “I-can-do-that-too!”

    Bluebird to follow suit
    Again and again
    We teach and we learn

    We center our wheel by holding clearly in view several highest intentions for our lives. I wrote: I serve those who serve. I assist humanity to transcend seeming limitations and move out of delusion and awaken to our true power to bless all.

    Lofty aspirations, for sure, but we are not alone in these endeavors. The creator of worlds is here offering us support. We are often like that juvenile bluebird, standing stiffly in our human form, ignorant of the amazing joy available to us.

    There will always be pain. The conditions around the pandemic, racial inequality, violence, desperation, despair — lurching, lurching, lurching.

    As Chris McCall sang “Here I am Lord” for us I was crying like a baby. Many of us were. Humanity is tired of the uncomfortable lurching. “I will go, Lord, if you lead me, I will hold your people in my heart.”

    If a juvenile bluebird and a juvenile starling can do it, so can we. We are not just humans. We are also divine.

    One of the closing lines in last night’s dharma talk: “Ahhhh, I see we have passed through the darkness….”

  • Ageless in this Moment

    This week is the anniversary of my mom’s transition. May 20 is also the date Ursel, the former owner of our home, passed, as well as the date Ursel purchased the home 33 years earlier. Both Ursel and my mom had their funeral/celebration of life on May 23. (See the Sacred Story: May 20).

    My mom passed in 2003. That was also Memorial Day weekend. No picnics, no parties, no plans this year.

    I am choosing to find ways to enjoy the moments.

    The leaves have come out this week! Scrumptius spring greens are silouetted against the sky.

    I continue to wear a mask when I go for a bike ride. I do not feel a need for a mask when I am out-of-doors doing activities on my own, but it is an important reminder.

    Yesterday I made some more no-sew masks, as it looks like social-distancing and safe-sheltering is going to be with us for a while longer. Let me know if you want a couple of easy patterns. One is made from a sock, and another is made from a sleeve. Stretchy fabrics are preferred….

    One of my mask-enhancements (inspired by a Dharma friend) is a photo of my smile! It is a black and white printer-quality paper print that I colored with crayons. Quickest teeth-whitening ever! I used clear packing tape to cover both sides and to adhere it to my sock mask.


    Ageless in this Moment Debra Basham May 22, 2020 (WC 250)
    Hiking in the western US for the first time we were
    stepping on rock beneath our feet instead of soil
    nothing seemed familiar except the sun overhead

    A small pool of water caught the sun’s light
    and I kneeled down to take a closer look
    myriad life forms were swimming together

    Precious life-giving water is at a premium here
    nature taking full advantage of resources
    as they present themselves

    This modest puddle is teeming with activity
    but I feel like a voyeur as
    I silently watch closely in awe

    Tiny minnow-like swimmers
    unnamed bugs skating on the water’s smooth surface
    a small lizard lounging

    In the distance I hear others approaching
    I notice a sudden feeling of protectiveness
    hoping those coming along will also be mindful

    A young girl—perhaps six or seven
    wordlessly asks permission to join me
    we peer together into this pool of possibility

    We both have a zillion questions but
    only our eyes give hint to the intellectual activity
    our lips remain still as we keep vigil

    She is motioned to rejoin the others
    reluctantly she leaves our shared perch
    glancing over her shoulder as she obeys

    Many times I’ve abandoned my delight
    when beckoned by some outer call
    wishing I had been able to stay where I was enjoying myself

    I am no longer I but she and all children and adults who can remain ageless in this moment in time and space if we take full advantage of the resources as they present themselves