Author Archives: Carla Woody

About Carla Woody

The Lifepath Dialogues offer an invitation toward embodiment of all that is life-affirming and the deeper meaning of sustainability. Drawn from themes in "Calling Our Spirits Home", "Standing Stark" and latest book "Portals to the Vision Serpent" with 20+ years as a mentor leading spiritual travel journeys working with Indigenous leaders and guiding people to live through their spiritual values. Topics are meant to open conversation. The author may be reached via cwoody@kenosis.net or visiting http://www.kenosis.net and http://www.kenosisspiritkeepers.org. Follow this blog by becoming a fan on the Kenosis Facebook page.

Spiritual Travel to Hopi in March 2023

SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT

Join us in Hopi Land, March 16-21, for an immersion experience in the Hopi Way of Life you’re unlikely to find on your own. Once again, I’m honored to sponsor this rare opportunity hosted by Hopi Wisdom Keepers Charlene Joseph, Harold Joseph and others. You’ll be touched in surprising ways as to what really matters, positively affecting your daily life long after you return home.

Spiritual Travel to Hopi: Sacred Guardians of the World
March 16-21, 2023

Registration discount ends December 16.

With Charlene and Harold Joseph, Hopi Wisdom Keepers, and Carla Woody, Spiritual Guide and Author

An Immersion Experience in the Hopi Way of Life.
Co-sponsored by Kenosis and Kenosis Spirit Keepers. A portion of tuition is tax-deductible.

Join us to learn from traditional Hopi Wisdom Keepers in their home villages of Shungopavi and Moenkopi in northern Arizona while they share who they are as First People, the original commitment they made to the Caretaker of that land — and some of the ways they carry out these spiritual responsibilities.

Our journey emphasizes lifeways and places of great spiritual significance handed down by Hopi ancestors, as it has been for thousands of years, still living today on First, Second and Third Mesas of the Hopi Nation. Visiting ancient villages of Old Oraibi, Walpi and hidden petroglyph sites, we explore the traditional Hopi way that holds the world together.

Our journey is timed to potentially attend a day dance. The Katsinas having engaged in ritual in the kivas and danced all night, often emerge during the day to offer blessings to all beings and prayers for fruitfulness.

The group size is limited to maintain respect and the intimate nature. A portion of tuition is tax-deductible to help preserve continuity of Indigenous wisdom traditions through the initiatives of Kenosis Spirit Keepers, the nonprofit extension of Kenosis. When you travel with us you directly help support Indigenous traditions.

For detailed itinerary, tuition, bios and how to register, go here.

Registration discount until December 16. Registration deadline February 27, 2023.

Register now to hold your space! For questions, call 928-778-1058 or email cwoody@kenosis.net.

Categories: Global Consciousness, Hopi, Indigenous Wisdom | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

Revelations in Process

Once I made a true commitment to my artwork, to reach into deeper recesses of myself, to somehow translate what I found there onto a surface, I noticed something interesting.

Whenever I would see an artist post their unfinished painting or sculpture on social media and label it WIP, shorthand for work in progress, it grated on me. It serves as a constant reminder of western societal norms: the pressure to worship at the altar of “progress”. To produce…quickly and consistently in a prescribed way…to set goals rather than hold intent. Prior to social media, perhaps I wasn’t consciously aware of what I rebelled against, but now it’s all too visible in so many ways.

It also brings to consciousness, a choice to be made at any turn. To paraphrase my first spiritual teacher Américo Yábar, are you acting for an audience…or are you an actor for the Infinite?

I had my first glimmer of understanding in my early 20s. First of all, I was working in a white male-dominated field in a bureaucratic environment. My boss charged me with a small project. I remember nothing about the content but do remember the process. It had creative elements and potential strategies toward the given outcome. I was intrigued and diligently went to work on it. But when he didn’t immediately get reports of my progress, he became more and more anxious, probably thinking he’d made a mistake choosing this very young woman for the task. He then attempted to micromanage me, which never works with me. I pretty much blew him off except to say I’m working on it. When I did give him my detailed recommendations, strategies in place, well before the deadline, he didn’t hide his shock.

He was a good boss and treated me well, but clearly, he knew nothing of the creative process. It requires space and a willingness to step outside time, to incubate in the underworld, before the final outcome surfaces. Now this was a minor incident in the scope of my life. But somehow, it’s remained vivid in my memory as a major teaching where creativity takes center stage.

Where the WIP term is concerned, I felt quite validated toward what I’d already long determined after watching a 2021 interview of Eric Maisel , a psychotherapist, creativity coach and author of more than 50 books, for an audience of artist members of the Cold Wax Academy. In essence he said, “The idea of progress is a trap. The Transcendentalists named ‘progress’ as the central metaphor for America. The icon was an upward spiral.”

What a set-up. As if unknown territory, frustration and being lost isn’t part of the process, too. That, by the way, is how we learn and then continue to expand beyond what we know…by stepping off the beaten path. I used to call it my love-hate relationship with painting—until I didn’t. Maisel went on to say, “Just do the next right thing.” Primarily that means stepping outside the progress paradigm and into yourself. Make yourself available to what comes through.

That began to happen for me when I fully realized that creating art had become a spiritual practice, an extension beyond my morning meditations. By that time, I’d had a daily meditation practice for 30 years. And just like that practice, it took some time for deeper channels to open in this different context. But one day it just happened. Something else entered, which is impossible to explain logically. There was an exchange, an ongoing silent conversation, and I was suddenly taking direction from the painting…or something beyond it…as the most natural of occurrences.

I titled the painting  My Magdalen Heart. Some months later I happened to be in the gallery where I showed my work at the time when an older couple entered and started making their way along the back wall. Soon the woman came to me with tears in her eyes, asking if I was the artist. She told me the painting had spoken to her. I didn’t doubt her. She went on to say how devoted she’d been to Mary Magdalen since childhood, having so many stories. It was emotional for us both. My Magdalen Heart now lives in New Mexico where, as the owner wrote to me, her presence commands the room.


Several months ago, I learned of Peter Kingsley’s body of work. It would be remiss of me not to mention him here. I have been slowly making my way through his books, there being so much that rings true for me. Sprinkled throughout his writings he exposes “the western myth of progress” trying to shake us awake, directing us back toward our origins. Those we forgot long ago as a culture, but remembered and still lived by traditional Indigenous peoples. In Catafalque, on Carl Jung and his Red Book, he uses Jung’s own words to describe the progress myth: “cult” and “illusion” relating to the obsession and fragility, the state of affairs we’re collectively enduring.


One Mother: The Wayshower. ©2022 Carla Woody.

I’ve learned over time to create space around my artwork, to ignore outside influences attempting to break through what I consider sacred space. These days working a piece to completion may take months. I’ve learned to be patient and trust what comes as it does. I’ve lost the angst around painting that used to wait in the wings, its cue to appear when I didn’t know what to do. Instead, I know it’s gone underground for a while to be sorted out and willingly let go.

I usually have a sense of what narrative I want to convey before I start painting. Early this year I began a series called One Mother as an invitation to re-member ourselves and our collective foundation. When I started the second work, it quickly diverged from the Arizona forest image I used as a prompt and took on a life of its own. I went with it. After some weeks I realized the landscape seemed awfully familiar but quite different from what I started with, nowhere around here. I couldn’t put my finger on it, and whatever was directing my palette knife wasn’t giving any hints. I have a rocker I keep across the room from my easel. I hang out there a lot, gazing at my work to get distance and another perspective. I knew something significant  was missing from this piece but no clue as to what. Then one day two things happened in quick succession. Suddenly, I recognized the landscape as that below the cliff at Serpent Mound in southern Ohio. An instant later, superimposed on the painting, I saw a snake slithering along a large rock at the creek’s edge, the cosmic egg in its mouth.

The Wayshower, detail.

This outcome was not in my human mind, and it was only by being willing to stay with the process, to surrender and have the silent, sometimes intermittent, conversation was the unfolding delivered. And for that I have no words. But I do know it’s not progress.


Revelations in Process was first published in Illumination on Medium in November 2022.

Categories: Contemplative Life, Creativity Strategies, Visual Arts | Tags: , , | Leave a comment

Film Review: The Crocodile Hunters of Ethiopia

Joey L. is a fine art photographer and documentary film director from Canada based in Brooklyn. He can frequently be found in remote places the outside world knows nothing of, and seems equally at ease working with celebrities and corporate brands.

His work with tribal peoples and ethnic groups is what intrigues me. Joey says he tends to go back to the same places. In doing so, he’s able to get a deeper and deeper sense of the people, their lifeways and environment—a real connection. I understand this because I’ve done the same over nearly 30 years. You create relationships that wouldn’t happen with the quick dash that satisfies the mainstream tourist. You see and experience things you couldn’t have imagined. Doors open. You are invited in.

Another thing happens that, for me, is heartbreaking to witness. Over time, invariably there’s loss of tradition. In his new documentary The Crocodile Hunters of Ethiopia, Joey talks about the hard life and difficult circumstances many Indigenous peoples endure. You can’t blame them for wanting an easier life. I’ve wrestled with these same thoughts. Would that their sacred practices and lifeways be maintained and, at the same time, they’re lifted out of poverty.

Joey has been working on a book about Ethiopian cultural history for 12 years. Some Ethiopian tribes have maintained their traditions over centuries. The Dassanach tribe is one. Some of the things he photographed 12 years ago are gone, lost to climate change and modernization. His mission is underscored with a sense of urgency.

His obsession started as an 18-year-old when he first went to a Dassanach village. During his visit, there was a tragic occurrence. A child was eaten by a crocodile, which are a ready danger in the region. They can grow 4 times as big as a human and retain gargantuan strength. They’re man eaters. Joey heard rumors of a nomadic caste called Dies whose specialty is killing crocodiles—not with guns but in the old way…with handmade harpoons. For years, he wanted to photograph them. But they are few and elusive. To complicate matters, croc hunting only occurs for a limited time during the rainy season.

Finally, the time was now. He was afraid if he waited longer the crocodile hunters would be a thing of the past. The film covers the search, preparation, tribulations, all the way through the complete hunt, which takes place at night. Joey and his team are among the few outsiders ever to see the hunt. Now you can, too.

This documentary merges uncommon, extraordinary footage of landscapes, tribal peoples, ceremonial blessings, along with what it means to be a working photographer and the importance of respect. Joey talks about the roles passion, curiosity, persistence and risk play relative to his photography. He shows you what happens behind the scenes. But also, what drives him to dedicate his life to pursuing the unusual and cultural truth. He has been in demand since he was a teenager with commissions from celebrities and brands. His work takes him into war zones, remote villages, dense jungles, urban areas, and commercial shoots. Joey L. is a rare breed.


I began following Joey L. a few years ago. I’m particularly taken with the Mentawai collection and his ongoing portrait series of Holy Men. To view more documentaries on the Dassanach and the lower Oma Valley see People of the Delta with accompanying shorts.

Categories: cultural interests, Film Review, Indigenous Wisdom | Tags: , , | Leave a comment

The Nature of Werifesteria

The closer I got to the departure date the louder the demands became—if you can relate kinesthetic response to pitch. I do. It started with a niggling feeling at the back of my skull that progressed to sensations of instability in my solar plexus, which I can only describe as shifting sands. It finally felt as though the world was falling away. The accompanying pitch was relative, increasingly louder in my head until I couldn’t ignore it. I found myself taken aback…as it was meant to do.

This I know…

Alchemy can be defined as elements recombined to create new forms. When beliefs are re-formed, arising out of what was, rebirthing takes place.

Resistance is necessary as a form of progression. In order to resist, the mind has to consider something new. Otherwise, resistance wouldn’t happen. Imagining something new begins to create substance. The greater the level of resistance, the more potentially profound the new creation may be—and out of the comfort zone. The more rigid we are in our own thinking, the more inertia we will experience against moving forward.

To create, we must push through the membrane that separates what we’ve preserved as real from the newly imagined reality…

Excerpt from Navigating Your Lifepath, Section IV: Transforming the Dragon

I also knew, and had many times experienced, the closer to profound movement we are, the stronger the impulse to go unconscious at the threshold and allow the status quo to pull us back. If we give in to backward movement, we remain tethered…contained.

Recognize that hesitation, feeling torn, or paralyzed are a natural part of the evolutionary process. Even external blocks can strangely present themselves, colluding with the internal part attempting to hold us back. It’s necessary to acknowledge any level of fear. Honor that part. Check in with intent, and then allow its resident purity to guide you.

But I was curious. I’m usually one of the first in my circle of friends and acquaintances to venture zealously into parts unknown. What made this time somehow different for me?

Oropendola nests, Madre de Dios. ©2021 Carla Woody.

In late 2020, I received a formal invitation to visit the Matsigenka village of Shipetiari to bring a spiritual travel group to their home located in a remote, pristine rainforest area, the buffer zone to Manu National Park and Biosphere Preserve. This particular Matsigenka community is one of the remaining few who live most traditionally. I considered this an incredible honor. They’ve had few travelers and none like the spiritual travel groups I sponsor.

Of course, the pandemic intervened. At that time, there was no vaccine. The Matsigenka, being so isolated, had no exposure or immunity. Finally, fully vaccinated, boosted, September flight set and COVID rapid test taken a day ahead, I set off for my personal journey to Shipetiari where I would meet the villagers and their jungle home for the first time.

I noticed that, once I turned my attention toward travels and thoughts informed by the larger intent of the time ahead, any objections by that part who’d raised them become quieter until they dissipated altogether.

It occurred to me the pandemic itself had generated my internal objections. Not because I was fearful of infection but for another reason. Like most all of us, my usual world came to a halt. In all that continued expanse of time, I reflected strongly on those aspects most important to me, sorting through how I would live into the future.

At a certain point, I began to wonder when or if I would be able to transition back into the world with my new realizations. I noticed a hint of complacency, lethargy really. Or was it the work of actually wading back into “life” after a long period of contemplation?  

Recently, I came across a definition of the fundamental natures of Shiva—the drive being equilibrium—and Shakti—drawn to the “stuff of the world” and change. To illustrate, there was an image of Shiva deep in meditation with Shakti attempting to bring him into the dance. I don’t claim to be a knowledgeable student of Hinduism, but in that moment the teaching reached out and grabbed me…two sides of the same coin. Elements familiar to me inserted themselves in a deeper way.


I had barely arrived in Cusco a few hours when I went to meet with Jack Wheeler. That’s when I learned we would be leaving early next morning for the jungle, barely breaking daylight. Jack is the founder of Xapiri Ground, based in Cusco. We met a few years ago. I discovered our nonprofits had similar missions toward preservation of Indigenous traditions. His work rests specifically with ethnic groups of the Peruvian Amazon. Xapiri Ground is working with the Matsigenka to document their cosmology, held and passed on through traditional songs and storytelling…now becoming lost.

The Storytelling Project was one reason Jack and I were going then. We, Kenosis Spirit Keepers, are helping to support that undertaking.The other was for me to respond to the invitation I’d originally received, begin to develop relationships and make arrangements to return with a small group of travelers respectful of the spiritual landscape and open to learning.

The next morning as I waited for Jack to collect me, I noticed my pervading sense of expectancy for what this journey may hold, what intent may open wide. None of it imaginable really at this juncture, and I never choose to put a box around such things. I had traveled these roads from Cusco to the rainforest many times up to a point. But how useful is it to consider every new time to be divergent from the last time, experiencing all with fresh eyes, attentive ears and otherwise open? Then finally there came the point of departure from what was familiar to me, the last leg of waters and jungle to our geographic destination.

It was clear to me we’d set out on a pilgrimage. Metaphors would arise and accompany us. But I may not consciously make their acquaintance until after the fact. It’s often like that for me. It’s how I save myself so my intellect doesn’t get involved and spoil it all.

Macaw, Madre de Dios. ©2021 Carla Woody

The Matsigenka were welcoming. Over the week we spent hours visiting with people happy to engage us with the way they live, in concert with their jungle home, plants, animals and each other. They did so, not by telling us, but by being what comes naturally to them. In their way, all is sacred and there’s no separation between them and the ground underfoot, the trees towering above or the birds or monkeys that fly through the trees…the waterways, frogs, insects and other inhabitants. To be otherwise is not within their reality. I have been with other Indigenous communities who live close to land. Somehow, this was different in a way I don’t quite have the words to express but will begin to write of it soon. They’ve left a mark on me and so has the jungle. There being no way to separate what is integral.

This is the story I want to tell now. One afternoon I decided to stay behind. We’d had an eventful morning, and I just wanted to be still. No matter where we went, the jungle was ever-present. My small bungalow was elevated a few feet with one side open, tall trees and dense foliage began maybe fifteen feet in front of where I sat on the stoop. No one else was around and the village was a twenty minute walk by trail.

I just sat. Not too much flitted through my mind. I did realize how completely relaxed my body felt, how deeply and long I slept each night. Those thoughts vacated and I sat. I watched. Training my eyes up toward the canopy, I saw two macaws fly by. A woodpecker landed on a high branch. Movement at the edge of the brush and a huge lizard slipped by. I listened to the calls of birds, some melodious, others somewhat harsh. Insects made a continuous chorus.

Then I began to feel. Energy. Everywhere. The more I opened that channel, the more there was. So much life. So very much vibration. It seemed to me the world fell away—or I fell into it. I was permeated.

I was in a state of wonderment through the last bit of our stay, all the way back to Cusco and carried all the way home. Something had happened, and I had no words for it. Only now after three months can I begin to speak of it with any coherence.

There’s a sacred Vibration, the constant that holds existence. And there are places where everything readily resonates with that frequency, each expressing it in their own way.

Now I’m left wondering if that resonance is what I sensed in the Matsigenka people, the land and all that inhabit it…

Sacred tree. Toniroko, detail. ©2021 Carla Woody

Words are often inadequate to convey an experience or feeling of great depth. The language just doesn’t exist until someone invents it, and it gains use as part of the vernacular. Such is the case with werifesteria, “to wander longingly in the forest in search of the Mystery.”

Once its meaning is learned there must be instant relief for those attuned to it. If the word is in use then there must be others traveling along that pathway as well. The forest can take whatever form you choose to give it—inner or outer landscape, seen or unseen. It’s not linear or logical for sure. By its very nature werifesteria attracts the strong intent it delivers ahead. We need only hold rapt attention, gathering cues that unfold the deeper path.

I must be a werifesterian. It feeds my soul for what may be revealed.

***

For more information on our August 21-31, 2022 spiritual travel program to Peru, go here.

Categories: Honoring the Earth, Indigenous Wisdom, Matsigenka | Tags: , , , | 2 Comments

Book Review: On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous

Photo by Ansgar Scheffold on Unsplash.

I first heard of Ocean Vuong through Krista Tippett’s podcast On Being. There was so much to absorb, I couldn’t do it in one listen, and repeated it a few days later. Here was a young man, brought to the US from Vietnam at the age of two by his family. His father left them and, as Ocean says, he was raised by women — his mother, grandmother, and an aunt. He suffered the consequences of their PTSD, the inheritance from war, and all were illiterate.

Ocean was the first in his family who learned to read — at age eleven. In 2019, he was awarded the “Genius Grant” by the MacArthur Foundation. Other prestigious poetry and fiction awards preceded that one, beginning in 2014. At age thirty-three, he has racked up serious outside praise few can claim.

But I suspect that, had he not personally gone through heartbreaking trials and tragedies, and somehow digested them, Ocean would not have been able to translate, at the level he has, what it means to be an immigrant merged with a gay coming-of-age story. When I read his novel On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, I listened to the audiobook first. It was narrated by the author. I wanted to take it in through the voice I heard in the interview — compassionate, vulnerable, and distinctly observant — fragility imbued with strength. Then I read it. I wanted to linger over the words of wisdom that emerged from one so young and his accurate criticisms of our culture.

I was also reading Rilke’s The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge at the time, which had the same pull on me Ocean’s did. Both were clearly framed from the authors’ own lives. The only question remained: how little was fiction.

Ocean’s main character is known as Little Dog, the name representing something subhuman and insignificant, an old leftover practice from the village, meant out of love. In this way, it’s hoped he will not stand out and instead will be protected. Every morning his mother reminds him before he ventures out of his home, now in Hartford, “Don’t draw attention to yourself. You’re already Vietnamese.”

Reading that line truly distressed me. It makes a sad but unignorable statement on the resident bias running through American culture. I’m ashamed of it. In an interview, Ocean spoke about first-generation immigrants coming from war or extreme violence who sought to be invisible. Every day opens framed through fear. While he said, the second generation wants to be visible and express their freedom.

Pay attention and notice the compassion and astute understanding set into dialogue in his writing. Little Dog and his grandmother Lan are watching a nature show where a whole herd of buffalo, each following the one immediately in front of them, ultimately leap off a cliff. Lan exclaims, “Why do they die themselves like that?” Little Dog replies, “They don’t mean to, Grandma. They’re just following their family. That’s all. They don’t know it’s a cliff.”

It’s often said that Ocean focuses on violence and tragedy. But he also has the gift of transmuting it into elements of beauty. This, too, is a form of moving beyond mere survivorship. Little Dog and his mother Rose had just come back to their dingy hotel from the Saigon cemetery, having laid Lan’s burial urn to rest. They’d carried it all the way from Hartford. Rose is disoriented. Little Dog says her name.

“Only when I utter the word do I realize that rose is also the past tense of rise. That in calling your name I am also telling you to get up. I say it as if it is the only answer to your question — as if a name is also a sound we can be found in. Where am I? Where am I? You’re Rose, Ma. You have risen.”

I haven’t been so taken by a novel in quite some time. The book was named one of the top ten books of 2019 by the Washington Post and retains a long list of awards. A film adaptation is in the works.


This review first appeared on Medium.

Categories: Book Review, cultural interests, Personal Growth | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

Spiritual Travel to Peru: August 21-31, 2022

SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT

An Intimate Pilgrimage from the Highlands to the Lowlands
August 21-31, 2022

Miradora Atalaya. Photo: Carla Woody.

Co-sponsored by Kenosis and Kenosis Spirit Keepers.
A portion of tuition tax-deductible. Registration discount until May 23.

I am pleased to announce my 2022 Spiritual Travel Program to Peru, an immersion experience in sacred Indigenous ways of Peru.


Many of you know I recently returned from a personal journey – immersion in the little known Matsigenka way of life and time in deep jungle…profoundly transformational for me. The community has graciously invited me to bring a small group.

– Carla Woody


It is a privilege to sponsor this special program focusing on sacred traditions linking the Q’ero and Quechua peoples of the Andes and the Matsigenka of the jungle. I offer you an intimate opportunity, unlikely to be found on your own — with the intent that we are all transformed and carry the beauty home.

We begin in areas outside Cusco wiith Doña Vilma Pinedo and Q’ero paq’os — traditional Wisdom Keepers and mystics — who usher us into the world of the Andes, an alternate reality of life-affirming choices.

Q’ero Despacho. Photo: Carla Woody.   

Then we transition deep into the rainforest to the pristine, wild surroundings of Matsigenka homelands. We experience how it is to live harmoniously attuned to the environment, creating natural medicines and traditional arts, consuming foods provided by the rainforest, and taking in oral history informing the Matsigenka world view.   

This is a journey of ayni — sacred reciprocity. We sit in ceremony of all these traditions, become an allyu — spiritual community — honoring all that sustains the planet and our own wellbeing. We come together with blessings, prayers and share the daily activities of all pilgrims.

Alicia Rios, Matsigenka curandera. Photo: Carla Woody.

We will be a smaller group than usual with respect to the Matsigenka village capacities. Though small, their hearts are open and wish to receive us in generosity just as our Q’ero friends and Dona Vilma Pinedo do. 

Detailed information including itinerary, tuition, bios, and how to register is on the program page. I’m truly honored to bring you this rare opportunity. 

Register now to hold your space! Registration deadline July 21.
For questions call 928-778-1058 or email info@kenosis.net.

I am privileged to bring you such a special opportunity. Join me and accept my invitation for this Adventure of the Spirit…and know that you are supporting continuation of the invisible, sacred threads that hold the world together.

Categories: Global Consciousness, Indigenous Wisdom, Matsigenka, Q'ero | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

Honoring Indigenous Peoples Day

In a time of global movement away from our origins, disintegration of family and disconnection from the natural elements, Spirit Keepers are the true warriors of today. In diminishing pockets throughout the world, in many ways disrespected, they still maintain the invisible threads that connect us to our roots.⁠⁠

Blessings of the Four Directions. ©2013 Carla Woody.

Indigenous wisdom for a better world.

I Hold the Knowledge Inside. ©2015 Carla Woody.

Kenosis Spirit Keepers

We help preserve Indigenous traditions threatened with decimation.⁠⁠

Testimony. ©2013 Carla Woody.

Spirit Keepers are the stewards of our future. The ancient, Indigenous ways instill appreciation for the Mother Earth and all beings. When Spirit Keepers are honored and come together to share their sacred practices, we are all nourished. Our common foundation is strengthened.

Going Home, Shungopavi. ©2014 Carla Woody.

We honor traditional Indigenous spiritual leaders, healers and communities who hold the fragile threads of their sacred ways.

Saved By Fortuity. ©2013 Carla Woody.

We fully believe: If these traditions continue to die, we all lose.

The Choice in Every Moment. ©2021 Carla Woody.

I founded Kenosis Spirit Keepers as the nonprofit extension of Kenosis. I’m pleased to say that we’re now in our 14th year. We continue our work against all odds.


A side note: Although I’ve explored various media in my artwork across decades, the intent of the content remains … those elements most sacred.

Categories: Global Consciousness, Honoring the Earth, Indigenous Rights, Indigenous Wisdom | Tags: , , , | 2 Comments

An Offering: Free Books and Program

First, let me say this isn’t goodbye. I’d mentioned in a post back in May that I’d been going through a process—perhaps you have as well—made convenient by the pandemic. In a certain way, with all pretty much coming to a standstill, the space and time demanded it. The call for sorting was strong: the recapitulation of a life, what really matters, and the future laid open to be taken up in an even deeper way. I can’t say this track is complete. Messages still come winging in as I’m easing back into the loosening future that is now.

…I fully recognize what’s ahead to be a different personal landscape than the one I’d been traveling—and have come to realize I don’t regret it. In fact, I welcome it. There’s a point when what was once off the beaten path becomes a well-traveled road.

…I’m not ready to slip my physical body as yet. But who knows what the future holds? However, I have a body of work that spans about 30 years, and experiences older than that. A lot of it has been documented through books, essays, a mentoring program and audio teachings. Some have yet to be written down. I’ve been fortunate to have engaged with a good number of people who let me know they’ve benefitted through the programs I’ve sponsored, private work and writings.

Alto Madre de Dios – A River of Life. Manu, Peru.

To fully review how guidance presented itself, read From the Archives: A Life Experienced. For me, these promptings are rarely linear but alert me to certain cues that string together decisions.

That said, I’ve archived two of my three books and my mentoring program so that they’re available for free on Medium in serial chapter format. Soon I’ll upload my third book as well. All are about conscious living and the spiritual journey. I hope you find them of benefit.

Link through the writing platform Medium. For each book or program chapter, scroll to the bottom for the table of contents with links to continue.

Books:

Calling Our Spirits Home: Gateways to Full Consciousness

Standing Stark: The Willingness to Engage

A Program to Revolutionize Your Life:

Navigating Your Lifepath: Reclaiming Your Self, Recapturing Your Vision


Anyone may read three free Medium articles a month without creating an account. If you create a free account, you may comment and/or show appreciation by “clapping” on the three free articles a month. However, there are ways to gain unlimited free access and circumvent a pay wall, which you can read about here.

Categories: Contemplative Life, Giveaway, Gratitude, Personal Growth, Spiritual Evolution | Tags: , , , | 2 Comments

Book Review: A Pilgrimage to Eternity

A friend recommended A Pilgrimage to Eternity knowing how much the Camino de Santiago meant to me—my walk and the aftermath, what I learned about myself. I confess I thought I’d be wading through a lot of historical minutiae reading this book. But I was pleasantly surprised, moved and entertained.

Timothy Egan’s mother was a progressive but devout Catholic. After her passing, he decided to make the pilgrimage on the Via Francigena, an ancient route actually older than the  Camino de Santiago by about two hundred years. It begins in Canterbury and ends in Rome. The Via passes through England, France, Switzerland and Italy, a length of 1100 miles.

Egan self-identified as a “lapsed” Catholic. One reason for his undertaking such an incredibly testing journey was the sheer physicality of it. But there were two other reasons. He really wanted to get to the bottom of how early Christianity—whose tenets were love, gender equality, charity and little dogma—transitioned to what it is today. He also wanted to reactivate his own spirituality, and see if he could find those original core precepts in action in the present-day Catholic Church.

This is Egan’s account of his own personal pilgrimage. By his very reasons, it included a fine examination and accounting of where the Catholic Church fell from its early grace. The  Inquisition, murders, sexual abuse, bias and politics are already commonly known.  But this writer fills in the gaps and pinpoints specific immoral deeds, contradictions, greed and subterfuge— often told with wickedly irreverent, biting humor. He doesn’t cut them any slack.

He came into the pilgrimage already carrying his own personal grief and strikes against the Church, which are relayed in the book. One had to do with Father Patrick O’Donnell who lived across the street from his childhood home, back then a 31-year-old priest. Egan’s mother welcomed him, a frequently invited guest. The priest was charismatic and considered a Pied Piper with kids. We know this familiar story. In 2002, a Spokane paper broke the story of dozens of accusations against the priest for sexually abusing boys across his priestly career, and how he’d just been moved by from one parish to another when things got too dicey. When Egan’s grown friend read the news, trauma came flooding back…what he’d kept secret. He subsequently took his own life.

Egan takes the Church to task about their fear of women’s power and sexuality: “Sex got stuck, just like those clerics who were never able to move beyond the boyhood trauma of arousal. The best women—Mary the mother of God, Joan the Maid, and Brigid of Ireland—were [made] virgins. The best men—Augustine, Jerome, and Benedict—renounced sex.”

He goes on to talk about Pope Gregory VII’s edict in the 11th century against clerical marriage. This when nearly half the clerics had wives or mistresses. There’s a lot more on that subject. But you’ve got a taste.

Here’s an accounting of high shenanigans I hadn’t known. When in Geneva, Egan sought out the repository of a special, preserved document issued by the pope—a “passport to paradise” of which who knew how many were sold. The purpose was protection from hell. The cost of the document depended on how many years the buyer wanted to reduce their time in purgatory. They could do so for themselves or a deceased relative. The fee lined the pope’s and clerics’ pockets. Thus were palaces built and feasts laid out…while peasants gave what money they had to the Church and their families went without enough food. The practice came to a halt after Martin Luther made a public exposé of this and a plethora of other instances of vast indulgences and greed by the Catholic Church. So began the advancement of Protestantism.

Along with informing us of the Church’s misdeeds, the author shares his experiences. This one is quite remarkable. He visited the crypt of Saint Lucia Filipini located in Montesiascone Cathedral in the town of Montefiascone, Italy. She died in 1732 at 6o. Her body remains incorruptible. On his visit, Egan looked closely. Her eyes were half open. Shooting a number of photos, he zoomed in and observed “a slow but discernible movement. The eyes are opening wider, to a half oval.” It jolted him with a sense of direct connection to the saint, the body. The next day he returned to the crypt. The eyes were completely closed.

He introduces us to the Abbey of Saint-Maurice along the Great St-Bernard Pass. Yes, the one with the rescue dogs. Perpetual prayer and chanting has endured 24 hours a day, 7 days a week for centuries. These days the monks who perform this duty are known as the Sleepless Ones. A site for contemplatives, there’s a draw for retreat.

Why truly would someone, and particularly the author, want to make such an arduous pilgrimage on the Via? “Wonder is a simple virtue. Like childhood, it’s grounded in innocence, taken for granted until it’s impossible to reclaim. One of the reasons I’m on the VF is to see whether I can maintain my wonder of what could be, while never forgetting what was.”

Now I’m dreaming of doing it myself. Well, maybe a truncated version at least.

A Pilgrimage to Eternity is available wherever books are sold. I checked mine out from our local library.


This book review first appeared in the publication Illumination on Medium.

Categories: Book Review, Contemplative Life, Spiritual Travel, Travel Experiences | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

From the Archives: A Life Experienced

How do  I Iead into what I want to convey? Isn’t that always the underlying unconscious question? These days it’s not so much what I want to express but how. What is the conveyance that will provide the depth I seek…to the point…without rambling? But really, life is rarely to the point if you think about it. By necessity rambling is required for learning, isn’t it? For me, the circuitous route has proven to be the most interesting, serendipity the gift most enlivening, what’s off the beaten path most fruitful.

Now going into the second year of the pandemic, it’s fifteen months since my usual life came to a screeching halt—the same as nearly everyone’s on the planet. A force much greater than any of us took over. We’re left with how to mediate uncertain ground. I haven’t been home this long in more than twenty years. My lifework involves a lot of travel.

What I’ve noticed though is my rambling hasn’t gone away. I’m just covering other-than-physical ground more deeply than I have in quite a while. The space and silence provided the opportunity to do so. Hence, the questions and ruminations I mentioned. I fully recognize what’s ahead to be a different personal landscape than the one I’d been traveling—and have come to realize I don’t regret it. In fact, I welcome it. There’s a point when what was once off the beaten path becomes a well-traveled road.

Over this last year I’ve been through a conscious sorting process. The core elements I consider most important haven’t changed. The intent I hold remains solid. It’s more about opening to other or even wider, spacious ways to engage them. It’s the process of coming to comfort within uncertainty—knowing there was never any certainty anyway and all is transient. It’s possible whatever way I end up may not look outwardly different. Who knows at this point? However, I intend that inwardly it will hold spaciousness. I’m bringing my intent to ground by speaking it here. The process I’ve been undergoing is very much about the present and future.

A curious thing happened several weeks ago. In the middle of the night I awoke with a start. I rode into wakefulness with this thought: I’ve been on the planet for 67 years. Soon it will be 68. It’s not like I don’t know this. But I’ve never thought much about my own age. I’m fortunate to be healthy and, through long ago choices, living the kind of life I never could have dreamed up. I hold a lot of gratitude for that. I’m guessing most people think about their longevity, but I really  hadn’t paid it much mind.

I have been holding the thought, borne through that middle-of-the-night prompting. Things going the way they do with me, this next piece happened a few days later. I can’t pinpoint how this occurred exactly, but a music video appeared in my social media feed. I actually watched it. Not typical for me. It was a song by the Avett Brothers called  No Hard Feelings. I’d never heard of them. The lyrics, the way they sang it and the images in the video touched me so deeply, I listened to it several times in a row and have continued since.

When my body won’t hold me anymore
And it finally lets me free
Will I be ready?
…Will my hands be steady when I lay down my fears, my hopes, and my doubts?
The rings on my fingers, and the keys to my house
With no hard feelings

…When the sun hangs low in the west
…And it’s just hallelujah…

This poignantly beautiful song caused me to do something I urge the people I mentor to do but hadn’t done in some time.

Acknowledge yourself, where you’ve been that brought you to where you are now.

Recapitulation of a life, I looked back over time. I’ve been holding this process lightly for a few weeks now and imagine it will go on for at least a few more. I recognize that I’ve done a lot of wandering of various sorts over most of my life, and was never lost. Even though, there were times when it felt so. I couldn’t have told you what compelled me until a decade or so ago. Finally, I realized there’s an energy I follow that has not let me down when I’m faithful to it. I’ve experienced some things most people have not. Some I can’t explain. I’ve had great joy in my life, also devastation and deep loss. What I’ve come to is this: It’s all been perfect. Every bit has brought me to this point in time. I feel blessed by it all.

One of my favorite things to do is have a meal with friends and afterward linger, usually over a glass of red wine, and relay favorite stories of experiences past. That I’ve missed a lot through the pandemic. (Although it’s transferred to more writing and artwork as my narrative.)

Some years ago, I was doing  this very thing with a few of the intrepid travelers who came with me to Chiapas on my Maya program. We’d been hanging out after dinner at Don Mucho’s, an open-air restaurant at the rainforest compound outside Palenque called El Panchan. (It holds so many of its own stories a book was written about it.) One of the women said to me, “You need to put all these stories together and call it Tales from Carla’s Table.” This memory came back to me during my life review, and I made a decision.

I’m not ready to slip my physical body as yet. But who knows what the future holds? However, I have a body of work that spans about 30 years, and experiences older than that. A lot of it has been documented through books, essays, a mentoring program and audio teachings. Some have yet to be written down. I’ve been fortunate to have engaged with a good number of people who let me know they’ve benefitted through the programs I’ve sponsored, private work and writings.

All this meandering narrative to come to this point—an announcement—and I appreciate your patience. I’ve already started to archive all of it in one place, including my book Standing Stark in serialized chapter form with the others to follow. I have Dr. Mehmet Yildiz to thank for his generous support. Dr. Yildiz  is the founder and editor-in-chief of Illumination and related publications on the writing platform Medium. He took me on as a writer and welcomes my reprints.  You can find my author page here.

All will be available to anyone who desires for as long as Medium remains online. I hope it may be of benefit.

K’iche’ Maya fire ceremony, 2018. Photo: Carla Woody.

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Categories: Contemplative Life, Gratitude, Spiritual Evolution, The Writing Life | Tags: , , , | 1 Comment

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