In the late 1980s I began to have a persistent sense that something was on the horizon. I was living a pretty mainstream life in Ohio at the time—knowing it was in no way a right fit. Within a couple of years, a major revolution…a fast train that involved jumping out of my old life and into the complete unknown, albeit guided by invisible direction. It turned out to be something beyond my wildest imagination or even knew existed. I’m thankful for every bit of it having brought me to where I find myself today. For some time that sense of something awaiting on the horizon returned and intensified. I’d known it was time to close that chapter on the form my lifework had taken for the last 25+ years: sponsoring spiritual travel journeys, retreats and mentoring.
Late this spring I made that final decision and took the actions necessary to dismantle a company and nonprofit—and felt immediate lightness. In essence, I’d also systematically dissolved my identity in the wider world and moved into a form of invisibility. I felt enlivened and continue to feel unbound, free to go wherever liminal space may offer.
Shortly after I made those decisive steps, I was having a conversation with my mom. She asked, “Now that you’re no longer sponsoring programs, are there places you still want to travel for yourself?” I thought for a moment and told her I’d like to return to India but to the Himalayas. I’d gone to Delhi and Rajasthan 26 years ago. It was a powerful time immersed in Sufi practices. Yet I felt India wasn’t finished with me.
Apparently not. A few days later an email invitation landed in my inbox to participate in a pilgrimage to the Himalayas with Sacred India Journeys. I had no idea how I got connected. However, I noted the synchronicity relative to timing…and clear direction such as I’ve received before to engage, the perfect segue through the threshold. Wasn’t it what I’d asked for? I’d learned long ago to follow the energy.
I returned from India 10 days ago. During the pilgrimage to the most sacred temples, caves and simply the most powerful vibrations held in the mountains and very land of the Himalayas…frequently little bubbles of joy would arise…bringing me into the present moment even more so. A gift delivered from Mother India in sweet silence.
On the first morning home… Since sunrise I’d gazed out my window at the high desert homeland that anchors me here, the close hills and farther mountains—especially the San Francisco Peaks—revisiting the journey…appreciating the patience, graciousness and devotion embedded in the culture of the Indian people and loving those I traveled with and what also brings me home. I’m recognizing how gratitude is at the core of joy. A few months prior to my departure I’d set my intent to carry forward all India taught me in a good way. Sometime soon I’ll start to write more about this precious journey once I can attempt to put words to what has few to none at the moment.
But now I’m going to write about Re-Entry, as much to remind myself as to share with anyone else who may benefit. This phase of a spiritual journey is equal to the experiences had and sometimes more important. You need to be prepared ahead of the return home relative to the elements. Otherwise, there’s a risk of being blind-sided by what you encounter increasing what could be difficult.
The most effective changes happen at the spiritual level brought about through that sacred container. The degree of transformation is directly related to how profound the experiences are—and outside the normal comfort zone your amygdala dictates. When that happens, you are opened by benevolent forces beyond your control. Suddenly, you now have a sense you didn’t previously. It has a trickle-down effect. There are shifts in your very identity in the world, your life beliefs, capabilities, behaviors and the environments you’re now willing to be.
You’ve gained awarenesses you didn’t possess before. Your eyes are opened and Spirit moves you. You’re someone other than you’ve been. It can be as confusing as it is exhilarating. The old way doesn’t fit to varying degrees depending on context.
Energy being everything, you may notice energy matches and mismatches in various contexts. This is about clarity and awareness, the first step to evolution.
Treat yourself as you would a newborn, in a protected manner, until this new being is stable on her legs. What does that mean exactly? Take time for yourself before “returning to the world.” Be still and present as much as possible. Appreciate yourself and the courage you have. Not everyone will embrace such changes and lead a prescribed life instead.
Recapitulation is a useful practice. Take yourself back to the time before you made the decision to join in the spiritual opportunity that presented itself. We do self-select for the journey. What do you notice about your state of being prior to the decision and afterward? Witness yourself along the continuum at pertinent times as you sense shifts. Bring yourself all the way forward into the present moment and then look back down that timeline. How have things unfolded in a meaningful way? Acknowledge yourself and hold that dear.
Here’s another important element. Remember that while you’ve undergone a transformation, perhaps in ways you can’t quite identify at this point, the world you returned to has not. Loved ones, friends and colleagues may respond in ways you didn’t anticipate. Certainly, there will be those who absolutely support you and curious about your process. It’s also not unusual that those closest to you may respond in negative and even hurtful ways. Almost always this has to do with their fear they’re projecting that you may not need them anymore or they don’t feel equal. If you look beyond the behaviors to see what’s at the core, more than likely you’ll gain an understanding of what’s transpiring. This is a time calling upon compassion and clarity to sort things through.
How can you share what you’ve experienced? To paraphrase poet Pablo Neruda, drop a petal on the ground. If they pick it up, share a bit more without expelling your energy. Photos are always an option. Your newborn needs time and consideration.
Re-entry provides a path for spiritual evolution…for coming into alignment. It’s like peeling the layers of the onion…coming home to our Self. Initially, the process may be quite dramatic. But over time, it lessens in intensity and becomes a kind reminder for a tweak. I call it the Re-Membering Process.
First, you need to understand I don’t know what I’m talking about. What I’m going to relate? Much is still a mystery to me. And I ventured into it clueless. For some things, it’s useful to “know.” For the most important things…not. There’s a threat the mind could get involved and do its best to distract, detract and embellish.
In essence, this is a story told in a circle. It began with not-knowing and concludes the same way⏤if as yet it is complete. I didn’t realize it was a story…that one thing would relate itself to another. I didn’t put two and two together…except hints here and there long down the road looking back. It’s simply that I was drawn into it, and if I ignored direction then it became a repetitive command that increased in intensity until I paid attention. And yet the outcome had little to do with me.
I want to make a couple of points to frame what I’m about to share. About eighteen months ago, I discovered Peter Kingsley’s body of work. I was scrolling through social media when, of all places, a quote from one of his books popped out to me as though it lifted itself off the very screen and thrust itself in front of my eyes. I read it over and over. There was residency beyond the words that settled and became solid. This became the start of my current exploration when it could have been overlooked, a flickering interest. Instead, it added depth to my spiritual inquiry.
Mystic, impeccable scholar, Kingsley’s lifelong mission is to bring the origins of Western spirituality back to life and to point to all the ways Reality has been purposefully misconstrued, well hidden. He warns that most will pass the opportunity by and rather remain lost in forgetting, tethered to the illusion we’re presented with. His books are not easy to read. I found them quite dense. When I finally realized the teachings are actually incantations, the magic of them administered in varying ways, I unwrinkled my brow and let the words wash over me instead. I was then reminded of a time years ago when the teaching of Intent came into my life. I wrestled with the concept until finally, Intent won over. In that shift, my intellect let go. The core energy of the heart let itself be known…no concept but a Presence.
Some things Kingsley wrote were familiar. I had written about them myself over the years and taught in similar ways. Not that I was shaky in my own understanding of Truth but felt validated. Going out on a limb to express such things is a choice to swim against the tide. Companionship is always welcome.
Here’s a quote from his book Reality. I’m providing it because it has everything do to with the circle, a symbol of containment and completion, as I mentioned earlier. Let yourself sink into his words. They took me to places I already knew.
“…the system presented by Parmenides over two thousand years ago, at the dawn of our civilization, is so extraordinary. For it offers us completeness first: not later or at the end, not at some distant point in the future.
The completion, the perfection, comes right at the start. And that’s how things have to be, because unless the end were present at the beginning we would never be able to get there.”
The next point has to do with psychologist-researcher Julian Jaynes. In the early 1990s, I read his 1977 book The Origins of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind. I was fascinated. But at the time I didn’t see myself in it, probably because it wasn’t until a few years later that the natural phenomena Jaynes described, and others he does not, started occurring much more frequently in different contexts. About eight months ago, I was told to pick up the book, dusty on my shelves, again. And so, Jaynes’ work joined Kingsley’s in my exploration because I found multiple places to perch…and also produced a lot of questions from my own experiences.
This is an excerpt of an overview from Marcel Kuijsten, founder of the Julian Jaynes Society:
“Jaynes asserts that consciousness did not arise far back in human evolution but is a learned process based on metaphorical language. Prior to the development of consciousness, Jaynes argues humans operated under a previous mentality he called the bicameral (‘two-chambered’) mind. In the place of an internal dialogue, bicameral people experienced auditory hallucinations directing their actions, similar to the command hallucinations experienced by many people who hear voices today.
The neurological model for the bicameral mind has now been confirmed by dozens of brain imaging studies.”
Note: I do take issue with the word “hallucination” used in the overview of Jaynes’ theory. First, the word is connected with mental illness and psychedelics by mental health professionals, creating stigma. Many perfectly normal people are voice-hearers. I’m one of them. Many feel unsafe and/or anxious about it. Therefore, it remains underground, a well-kept secret, creating further anxiety. I’m telling this story as it happened to me and seek to normalize such natural phenomena.
What follows is informed by the works of Kingsley and Jaynes that deepened my own understanding perhaps as to the how. But then why tells a tale of its own⏤decades-long⏤for which I have no explanation regarding my own involvement. Also know: I never had any clue, at the moment, as to the point or potential evolution of the directions I was given. And I made an immediate choice to follow them. I was completely aligned with the actions.
I’m still in the process of pinpointing exactly how the guidance comes. What I can discern now is the auditory component, which is a matter-of-fact voice, not my own, that typically emanates from outside my head in my upper left field. It could happen as I’m going about my day, sometimes during meditation. Moreover, there’s a strong kinesthetic component, a solid “rightness” and pulling quality that backs it up. I call it “following the energy.” On rare occasions, a visual image can appear to me during meditation. None of these instances are everyday occurrences. It’s more like I’m prompted to take certain actions in order for other things to unfold, maybe even years apart, and then another will come as the next step. But I always know when I’m on track and when I get sidelined and need to self-correct.
We were in the Moenkopi home of Charlene and Harold Joseph, traditional Hopi Wisdom Keepers, also our hosts for my spiritual travel program on Hopi Land. We were sitting in a circle, and Harold had begun to speak about his time as a sponsored guest on my Maya program in southern Mexico. I interrupted him, which I normally would not do, and said perhaps it would be useful to those in the group, who hadn’t traveled with me before, to provide some context to frame his telling. It was like someone else entered the room and had taken over, needing to give voice to something only ever been told in a segmented way, and I began to speak. And while I shared the high points, a number of things were left out, and the threads of one to another were connected intuitively by the listeners. What came arose organically, having specifically to do with Hopi.
In the late 1980s, I began to have a vision during my daily meditations. I recognized it was a place I was supposed to be, far from Ohio where I was then living, but I had no idea where. It had mountains and pine trees. I was there. I could smell the forest. I felt completely at home. The vision would return periodically, getting stronger as the years went on until it became a yearning. In 1996 I moved to Utah but knew that wasn’t it, more like a step along the way.
But a couple of years later, my then-partner and I visited friends outside Prescott, Arizona. It was clear to me I’d arrived, and it only took me a few months to make the move and begin to settle in. Curiously, once I was there, I knew I was supposed to work with Native people in the area. I didn’t know any then and wouldn’t have approached them anyway. That would have been ludicrous. I began to hold meditation circles, spiritual retreats, and classes. A small local community started to grow up around my work. Knowing I’d been going to Peru and studying Andean mysticism since 1994 with spiritual teacher Américo Yábar and Q’ero mystics, some of them asked if I’d take them. That was the start of my spiritual travel programs, the first in 2000. I fell into it.
It was 2006 after a despacho prayer ceremony at a sacred lake outside Cusco. One of the Q’ero paq’os* looked up at the sky and pointed. Others got excited. A condor and an eagle were flying together. At the time I had never heard of the Eagle and Condor Prophecy until much later. But within a few days of my return home, while driving, a voice came: You need to take Hopi people with you on your programs south.
I still didn’t know any Native people in the area, much less Hopi. But synchronicities quickly happened, and in 2007 a Hopi father and 17-year-old son joined us on our journey to Peru. The same year, I founded Kenosis Spirit Keepers, the nonprofit extension of its mother organization Kenosis, to fund the sponsorships and other collaborative projects with the Indigenous peoples we serve. That’s when the story began to gain momentum.
The next year Harold was our sponsored guest. He consulted with his Kikmongwi, the traditional chief of his home village Shungopavi, who asked him to observe what he saw and accomplish other things. During our journey Harold went off by himself periodically, saying nothing when he’d rejoin the group. He remained silent about all of this and complicating factors. It was probably a year before I learned through Harold that Hopi oral history told of their migration up from South America through Central America and Mexico to where they live today. I had no idea. I also hadn’t known it was taboo for them to return to migration paths due to the bad things that had occurred causing them to leave. Consequently, there were certain things asked of Harold by his Kikmongwi in order to clear the way and open the path southward for other Hopis. That’s why he went off on his own. Nor did I know why Harold had been so thrilled to see the reed boats with serpent heads at Uros, the floating reed islands on Lake Titicaca. To the point, he bought a small mobile containing miniature boats to take home and show Charlene’s father, the last great oral historian of the Hopi Tribe, who teared up at his find.
By that time, I’d started sponsoring a Maya program that had created itself organically, allowing me to take people to the highlands and lowlands of Chiapas where I’d been returning annually since 1994. Sponsored Hopis, usually chosen by their Kikmongwi, joined us in both Peru and Mexico, meeting their relations and sharing traditions in both places. My heart lifted each time they noted stories and other indicators that let them know they’d passed through those regions we traversed and sat in the ceremony.
About 2011, I received another missal. This time I was to go to Bolivia where I’d never been. No details whatsoever. I’d suggested to Américo, with whom I’d been working all those years, that we could extend the journey to the Bolivian side of Lake Titicaca, but he wouldn’t go for it. Soon afterward we parted ways. In 2014, I invited two in the group I sponsored that year to go with me to Bolivia after that Peru journey ended, a scouting expedition. I managed to find guides who were very helpful.
Lake Titicaca is a sacred place and the Bolivian side provides entrance to the country. A truly remarkable thing happened in the middle of the lake on our way from the Island of the Sun⏤the location of the ancient mystery school for Inka priests⏤and the Island of the Moon⏤the site of the mystery school for Inka priestesses. Our Quechua and Aymara guides and the three of us had created a despacho on the boat. As the ceremony closed, the despacho bundle wrapped, and one of the guides held it out to me to make the offering to the lake. As we were gliding toward the Island of the Moon, I launched our offering into waves left by the boat. An extraordinary thing happened that’s a challenge to convey. Tremendous energy surged from the lake and devoured the bundle. Astounded isn’t adequate to describe our state. I had no doubt permission had been granted to enter and the way was open for the following year.
In 2015, the journey began in Bolivia and was meant to culminate in Cusco, closely replicating the initiation journey of the first Inka couple Manco Capac and Mama Ocllo. Directed by their father-god Viracocha, they sought a holiest place to build the city⏤a place of the sun and the navel of the world. Sponsorships for this program included Q’ero paq’os and Suhongva Marvin Lalo from Hopi’s First Mesa.
“Our first stop was Tiwanku, said to be the Creation Place where Manco Capac and Mama Ocllo first emerged. Finally pulling ourselves away, in the last half hour before closing we ventured over to an adjacent site. Puma Punku may be the biggest mystery of all. Some conjecture it may have been a docking point, as thousands of years ago Lake Titicaca also covered this area. Now what was left were huge toppled stone slabs and much smaller structures fashioned with extraordinary precision…seemingly impossible for those times. It cannot be explained to this day.
And it was here that Marvin⏤who had traveled south all the way from Hopi Land on a mission for signs that his people had passed this way⏤found the Hopi migration petroglyph. The one that was known to point the way for his ancestors. The one that pointed north…Marvin zeroed in on a symbol he knew to be his people’s…and his hair was on fire.”
What does this mean exactly? Coupled with Harold’s 2008 trip with us on the Peruvian side of Lake Titicaca where he saw the reed boat with a serpent head he knew from Hopi oral history…and the presence of the Hopi migration symbol at Puma Punka, how do you explain recognition of these artifacts if the Hopi ancestors had not been there?
The following year I repeated the journey from the previous year. The Kikmongwi sent his senior advisor Radford Quamahongnewa of Hotevilla whose mission was to validate what Marvin had seen in 2015. While we were in Puma Punku, our guide spoke of a great city that once existed in that region, now lost, and the great flood that took it. Perhaps not so strangely this, too, was part of Hopi oral history.
When telling this story I was transported back to the times I spoke of. Once I’d completed my recounting, tracing its significant threads, closing the loop of the circle, there was silence. It hung together in the air, an invisible entity…and I was overwhelmed. I was shown the whole of something I hadn’t quite realized. When you follow something you know…along some unknown trajectory derived from prompting by an unseen advisor…and it comes to some kind of fruition in a way you couldn’t have imagined…that instills elements for which I have no words or explanation. I will let it rest here.
*Paq’o is a Quechua word with no direct translation, the closest being a cross between shaman and mystic in the Andean tradition.
This essay was first published in Illuminations Publication on Medium in April 2023.
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 tolive 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.
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.
An Intimate Pilgrimage from the Highlands to the Lowlands
In December, I was honored with a formal invitation from the traditional Matsigenka village of Shipetiara, located in the shoulder area of the Manu Biosphere of Peru, to bring a group for an immersion experience. I have opened a spiritual travel program in September 2021 and am now taking registrations.
Photo credit: Tui Anandi, Xapiri.
It is a privilege to sponsor this special program focusing on sacred traditions linking the peoples of the Andes and the rainforest. A portion of tuition is tax-deductible supporting the Xapiri Matsigenka Storytelling Project, and sponsoring a small group of Q’ero paq’os traveling with us.
Photo credit: Cecile Sother.
Photo credit: Carla Woody.
This should be considered a pilgrimage of respect for sharing traditions and experiencing nature. Intrepid travelers understanding this honor and willing to take the COVID-19 vaccination to protect these Indigenous people, who have little to no contact with outsiders, are welcome.
This program is co-sponsored by Kenosis and Kenosis Spirit Keepers, the nonprofit arm of Kenosis. I founded both, the former in 1999 and latter in 2007, and have been sponsoring spiritual travel programs for more than 20 years.
There’s a good chance you haven’t heard of Hilma af Klint unless you’ve been to a show or seen articles on the flurry she’s now creating as major exhibitions of her artwork are gaining momentum, across the globe, consistently since 2013. Prior to that her only international show of any significance was The Spiritual in Art – Abstract Painting 1890 – 1985 at the Los Angeles County Museum where she was listed as a previously unknown painter against luminaries Kandinsky, Kupka, Malevich and Mondrian. In fact, she’d only exhibited four times in group exhibitions in her native Sweden during her life. The last time was 1914.
Why?
Hilma became fed up with the lack of understanding and response to her work by contemporaries. A significant point was Rudolf Steiner’s reluctant visit to her studio in 1908, his tepid feedback and suggestion she completely alter her method and source of inspiration.
She decided the world was not yet ready for her paintings. When she passed in 1944, she’d willed her lifework—approximately 1500 paintings and works on paper, plus her notebooks totaling 26,000 pages—to her nephew Erik af Klint who had no involvement whatsoever in art. There was an unusual requirement in the will: None of her work was to be made public for 20 years. A wise choice since the 1940s was not the landscape into which to release precious expressions whose source was not of a pedestrian world.
Here are three major points of interest.
Despite unfavorable responses to her work, she didn’t give up as some might have. Instead, she retreated to her studio and secreted her output. This reminded me of Saint Julian of Norwich who slipped her writings into cracks in the walls of her cell—this for her physical safety though—to be discovered only after her death. Women through the ages have kept things quiet, lived beneath the radar, known to few, because it was dangerous to be recognized. Not so now.
Kandinsky is credited with inventing abstract art with his 1910 watercolor. When, in fact, Hilma was already producing a series called Primordial Chaos between 1906-1907. So, she’s actually the mother of invention.
Primordial Chaos, Group I. Courtesy of the Guggenheim Museum.
It goes back farther than that. In 1903, her hand was being guided in automatic writing sessions and non-representational drawings—not unlike some of her later paintings. Initially a classical artist, it was automatic writing that loosed her from those precise restrictions. She jumped right into abstraction informed by the metaphysical question: What lies beyond form?
Group X, Altarpieces, 1915. Public domain.
She was fortunate to live in a time of great curiosity in the Western world toward those things beyond the physical plane. Like many artists and writers of the time, Hilma was interested in spiritualism. She was a member of the Edelweiss Society in Sweden whose prime interest was mediumship. Hilma left to be part of a small group of women who called themselves The Five. They met regularly to hold seances, automatic writing sessions and other related exploration. She continued to hold these interests throughout her life. She was a seeker who drew from a complex well of the occult, Theosophy, Rosicrucianism , Buddhism, Christianity, Anthroposophy and physics, along with her foundation in spiritualism. It formed her world view and emerged clearly in her cosmic artwork.
My introduction to Hilma af Klint came through the remarkable documentary Beyond the Visible, streaming online. I was so taken with her story and artwork I ordered Paintings for the Future, the coffee table book produced by the Guggenheim, to study her more closely.
In well-deserved recognition, this female artist—who once painted alone in her studio, secreting her work—had her work viewed by more than 600,000 art enthusiasts by the close of the 2018-2019 Guggenheim exhibition. This is “the highest recorded attendance figure for a single exhibition in the museum’s history.”
And so, the celebration of her work continues globally. It’s about time.
The title is not what you may at first think. It’s not about being eaten alive in the literal sense. But I did want to get your attention. It is about being consumed to the degree that you come alive in ways you may not have experienced.
I found the work of Will Johnson through Future Primitive, a podcast co-produced by Joanna Harcourt-Smith and José Luis Gómez Soler. Joanna interviews guests using a framework: What is it like to be in sacred communion with our living Earth? Will is a Buddhist practitioner with Sufi leanings dedicated to breathing practices that wake up the body. He’s long been offering retreats and teachings through the Institute of Embodiment Training, now in Costa Rica.
What first caught my attention was a statement Will made early in the interview. He was at an event and looked out over those gathered, noticing how very still, even stiff, people were in their sitting meditation. That let him know most of those gathered were not breathing fully, nor engaging the body as part of the process. Shallow breaths.
I reflected on my own daily practice that has evolved over 35+ years. I was all about the breath, particularly in the early days, directing it in such a way that it opened my energy field and sometimes instigated involuntary movement. Then later for several years I participated in the local Sufi circle, especially zikr, which was anything but inactive.*
Listening to Will, I began to wonder if I’d become complacent. I no longer actively use breath or chants in the way I did in the past, but sit first thing in the morning, say a prayer of gratitude, then close my eyes. When I do, I become engulfed in palpable energy that ebbs and flows. It’s always there no matter how long I sit – 5 minutes, an hour or more. I feel tremendous connection. The witness part of me has noticed there are often times it appears I’ve stopped breathing for periods, but am not holding my breath. When I do finally take another breath it’s subtle. I call it “the breath of no-breath.” I’ve read about such occurrences in literature from Kriya Yoga. My body is quite still but doesn’t feel stiff in my awareness. What I’ve come to has worked for me.
But I decided to undertake the method Will calls the Hollow Bamboo Dharma Practice that focuses on the body and actively uses breath to open six points, freeing energy. This method can lead to a state of unity he calls the Great Wide Open and being breathed by the Divine, Universe, God or whatever anyone may call the Force Field of Creation.
I’ve experienced the state he describes. I call it “losing my skin” where there’s a sense of no separation, a state of being permeated by All That Is, in a way hard to describe, slipping into it with no intent of doing so—that gives deep comfort. Time disappears. I disappear. In the times it has occurred, I’ve almost always been meditating in nature. I can remember one time it happened during a prolonged Sufi retreat. The difference is my experiences have occurred spontaneously, infrequently. I don’t know really how such a sacred unity occurred.
Because of the pandemic, stay-at-home orders and uncertainty of the world, I decided to enter retreat and use this new-to-me approach to meditation as a framework. In his generosity, Will has on his website downloadable audios of a 3-evening presentation where he introduces his philosophies related to what he teaches, and the actual practice he calls Breathing Through the Whole Body. He’s quick to state this shouldn’t be considered a technique, that it’s a natural way of breathing and will feel that way over time.
Of all his books, I chose to get his newest one, Breathing as Spiritual Practice: Experiencing the Presence of God, because the title appealed to me. It turned out to be rather synchronous. I hadn’t read the description very carefully. This book is largely from his personal journaling over his own 10-day retreat several years ago using what he teaches, with each chapter given to one day. I decided to read a chapter each day of my own retreat, usually after I’d done the meditations according to his direction introduced in the audios. When I started reading the book, I found his retreat site to be one where I’d stayed myself, albeit for a very brief time, just a taste with a promise to myself to return. So, his recounting of Christ in the Desert, an isolated Benedictine monastery of silent retreat, in a box canyon at the end of 13 miles of bad dirt road in northern New Mexico, was already alive within me.
Here I’m offering a synopsis of my own process in retreat using the methods on the audio tapes.
I normally sit on my sofa cross-legged with a straight back. To make sure my knees were lower than my pelvis per his instructions, I transferred my meditations to the floor and sat at the edge of a zafu, legs crossed with knees on the floor. I noticed it straightened my spine completely, allowed me to elongate more and sit much taller without effort. The first instruction was about body awareness. I noticed immediately that, in this posture, my sacrum was unhappy and the muscle around my right clavicle was tight, exactly the place my massage therapist always goes after. It was achy but wasn’t unmanageable. This told me I was compensating and, as a norm, ignoring discomfort. This is the kind of thing Will said would be noticeable if you’ve been numbing out pain in the body. On point.
In the audios, Will is good about gently guiding the breath, spot by spot, introducing subtle movement, until the last sequence where you’re breathing in the six directions he identifies. I soon recognized I hadn’t done really deep breathing in years, which was the second point. The idea is to begin your breath in the belly—no problem there—and continue the in-breath all the way up to the uppermost sacs of the lungs at the top of the ribs…up the neck and into the cranium. Wait, what? The cranium? Now I can tell you it’s possible. But for me, not at first…
First time out of the bag, I was able to take in breath until my chest swelled. But I hit a wall when attempting to continue to the top of the ribs. Persisting over a couple of days, I guess I finally experienced body memory. My breath then found the pathway and continued right up into the cranium. Really. Well, I’m not so sure if it was actual breath but perhaps the energy of the breath. Something physical happened though. First the base of my skull popped and then it felt like my entire cranium subtly began moving with the breath.
One of the other things wonderful was that, through the breath, I was receiving an inner massage that affected my outer body and relaxed those spots that were protesting. My lumbar let go almost immediately. It took more for that muscle below my right clavicle to release. But I could feel, at the end of 10 days, it was stretching outward and loosening.
It doesn’t take long to get into the state. Once learned, your body knows the way. A by-product, thought also dissipates in such a way there’s just a feeling presence. Even if thoughts return—because they will—it’s easy to return to the breath, and they release.
I did have something occur that was distinctly unpleasant but wasn’t surprised because it had happened once before. About 20 years ago, I was going through a very difficult phase in my life. In order to maintain equilibrium, I was meditating long hours a day. It had a profound impact on my wellbeing. But when you do so, it loosens things that have been trapped, or consciously shut off, deep in the psyche that can come to the surface in different ways…in order to release.
I normally do not remember my dreams. When I do, it usually has to do with some deep spiritual meaning, awe inspiring but not scary. I have so rarely had nightmares in my life, they wouldn’t number the fingers on one hand. But during that time long ago I’m referencing, I had some kind of waking dream where I was surrounded by lepers reaching for me, brushing me. Like something biblical. I felt it all. I was terrified. I started to move and leap out of bed when a voice said to me…Just go into it. Merge with it. Like the story goes, invite the demon in to tea. I did that, and the fear and revulsion released. A sense of calm replaced it.
I’ve never had such a dark night experience recur until about 10 days ago. I think I was on Day 5 of my retreat when I had another waking dream like some godawful place out of Hieronymus Bosch or Dante’s Inferno, and I was in the middle of it. My chest was heaving. I felt electrified. I leaped out of bed, my entire body shaking. The visuals stopped but my body was still there. No saving voice this time giving wise counsel. I had to walk around for a while to calm myself. I was up the rest of the night.
As if it had arrived on cue, two days later reading Will’s Day 7, he had a similar dark night. Not necessarily the same content but within the same spirit.
At least I’d had some previous experience of this territory, and wasn’t caught by surprise. I’m quite sure this was brought on by the pandemic, the global chaos, level of death and destruction of what is familiar. I’d been aware of how very calm I’d been about the whole thing, even had some remarking on that. Not at all cavalier. But stopping short of entering the horror, which as somewhat of an empath, I can easily do. So, it’s no wonder fear of the unknown and real grief for this worldwide devastation had to surface, in order to break any internal paralysis, and be released instead into the realm of compassion.
It’s not pleasant to go through such things, but I don’t at all begrudge them. It’s part of the spiritual path. It’s just good to know the possibility exists. I was glad to see Will brought that particular aspect up in his writing.
In the book, he mentioned you could do the practice of breathing through the whole body anywhere, suggesting when laying down or walking out in nature. I tried both but didn’t have the same effect as I do during sitting meditation. Laying down I didn’t feel the full energy of my body as much. Walking out my front door onto trust land may not have been the best place to try it out in nature. I was too distracted by the roughness of the trail. I suspect I will get better at these other settings with more practice, once this way of breathing is second nature.
My practice continues. I recognize what I’ve undertaken here has health benefits, increased my physical energy and my sleep is so much better. I have a keen appreciation for the spiritual aspects. I didn’t yet get to the place where I lose my skin but imagine that may come. I’m grateful for this additional way of breath, body and energy and am incorporating it into my early mornings.
***
* Quoting Pir Shabda Kahn, Spiritual Director of the Sufi Ruhaniat International: “The mysticism of breath is central. Repetition of sacred sound is central. And the art of living wholesomely is also central. Our effort is to learn to live in the breath twenty-four hours a day. The actual practice is to outwardly connect with the breath, be conscious of the breath, and let the breath fall into its natural rhythm of inhalation and exhalation. And we combine sound and breath. We put a sacred phrase ‘on the breath.’ We do this in meditation, and we do this throughout the day. It could be Om Mani Padme Hum. So, we might put Om Mani Padme Hum on the in-breath and then again on the out-breath, and breathe it out throughout the day, throughout our life.
We recite sacred phrases out loud. Repetition is important. Sound has an effect apart from meaning, based on the rhythm it creates in our physical, mental, emotional and spiritual bodies. One of the phrases we recite is called ‘zikr.’ The phrase is La Ilaha Ilaha Allah Hu. It includes both negation (there is nothing but God—separateness is a false notion) and affirmation (experience yourself as the ONE).”
[This article includes a free download of a breath meditation at the end.]
It seemed to me like something was coming. I had a similar sense when I was in my late thirties. Back then, I knew something was hovering on the horizon, but I just couldn’t see what. It turned out to be a big shake-up in my life. A time of new awareness. Clarity. A recognition I could no longer live the way I had. That recognition led to significant choices that placed me squarely on the path I’ve been on ever since. I still don’t have a word for it…this walk that chose me. But know when I’m aligned to it, and when I falter. This is at the personal level.
What I’ve been sensing, as many had—long before it happened—is global upheaval. Now here it is. Something like this had to happento rip the foundation out from under us. Something big enough to stop us short. Indeed, it has. Collectively, we couldn’t go on much longer without things coming apart in a catastrophic way. We’ve been forced into lockdown, to shelter-in-place—a phrase I’d never heard before now.
I prefer to say that we’ve been called into retreat. We have things to consider, foundational things…each of us.
I know I do because I’m relieved to be here, at home, having been forced to reschedule commitments and journeys all the way into next year. I see open space stretching out in front of me and relish it for the rich possibilities it brings. It’s been a very long time since I allowed myself to meditate for longer than an hour during daily practice. Not so now.
After a few days, it’s no longer about allowing. I’m naturally slipping into those longer hours, finding it to be a familiar place that I haven’t stepped into in a long time but always remember…because significant clarity came from that space. And I became different as a result of being there.
But it wasn’t at all a place of mind but rather a space of Unity with the Absolute from which Silence is naturally delivered…and unseen, unheard but felt guidance is offered. And the entry is through breath and energy. You could say mysticism is the by-product.
I’m looking to emerge from retreat with another perspective. I’m holding out for a deeper way of living and appreciating.
For several years, back in the late 90s to early 2000s, I held a regular meditation circle. I’ve never had any religious affiliation so felt free to borrow from Sufi, Buddhist or any other sources that that worked well to enter a non-mind state.
There was one meditation I used frequently with the circle I called Chakra Breathing. People found it particularly useful to deepen their state of being, relaxation and alleviate physical issues. I’ve had folks use it pre and post surgeries to support healing. I actually created it for myself in my late 20s for healing purposes. They asked me to record it.
It occurred to me that some may find it useful in the environment we find ourselves now.
Please feel free to download and share this 20-minute meditation.
Intended to accompany meditative practice, this recording uses the breath as a conduit to still spaces against a backdrop of Tibetan bells. Chakra Breathing is a tool to cleanse and vitalize the energy centers of the body and lead to that inner sanctity called Silence.
My invitation to meditation came nearly forty years ago. As many such things that arrive, it was of necessity, and I was unconscious of it in the moment. Thankfully, that time I paid attention to the part of me that knew—but back then would usually ignore…until I didn’t. A strong message: I must come down out of my head in order to live. You can read this as a metaphor, which is valid. But it was also a physical reality. I had driven myself into the ground until my body rebelled with a clear communication. It took that. I wasn’t listening. It stopped me short and laid me flat. It was serious. A hard learning curve.
It was in the recovery process the pull to meditation became pronounced. Now I would say I was just following the energy. Even that phrase is a poor descriptor. For some things, there are just no words. I had no real framework at the time. Even though “meditation” had become a buzzword…if there were classes where I was living at the time, they were underground, and I wasn’t part of the network.
I turned to research. How I came to these classics—Human Energy Systemsby Jack Schwarz and Joy’s Way by Brugh Joy—is lost to time. Although my well-worn copies have remained on my bookshelf as a testament. Their content was a fit for me. I was able to come to my own method using breath and energy. Experiential. Of the body and beyond the body. I didn’t know what I was doing, frankly.
I began a practice that has stayed with me to this day: I got up at least an hour earlier than I did previously so as not to be rushed. (This is the point, isn’t it?) I sat. The mental chatter was an aggressive distractor. Finally, after quite a while, I started getting the hang of it. Then something totally unexpected started occurring.
Pain, pressure and weird sensations that—with my eyes closed—felt like my body was strangely contorting. It was only in opening my eyes, that I would discover I was still sitting upright, never having moved. Much later I would understand I was experiencing blocked energy. I learned through contrast as I began to kinesthetically experience flow in, through and around my body, stronger and stronger over decades. It’s been my saving grace. It’s affected how I live. I don’t know where I’d be without it…this gift from beyond my self.
It used to frustrate me there’s no Mysticism for Dummies book. No explicit instructions. How could there be? Any true book on mysticism, usually the most obscure, only allude to the elements of the path, always veiled, sometimes through metaphor. There are no words. It’s also a protection from ourselves. The mind loves to get wrapped around the right way to do things, losing out in the process.
What I’ve found most useful is not to read much in this realm. So much better for me to immerse myself and be present. Becoming aware through experience. When later if I stumble across something that documents the elements I’ve come to know experientially, it serves to validate something whose territory is already familiar.
On that note, several months ago I stumbled upon Silence: The Mystery of Wholenessby Robert Sardello. There are examples of spiritual literature over the centuries, wisdom writings of great mystics, identifying the heart as the seat of spiritual perception. His writing goes steps beyond in leading the reader to the Presence that resides in the seat of spiritual perception…the wisdom source. This is not something abstract. It’s grounded in full vibration and kinesthetically recognizable. He also offers practices to recognize and develop this spiritual muscle. I’m going to stop here as this is your own area to explore if you like.
Over twenty years ago, I first came upon the word kenosis, coming from Greek, meaning to empty. I identified with it as the path I’ve chosen. The act of kenosis is more though than releasing, letting go. That’s part of the process. But ultimately, it’s about creating the inner spaciousness that invites something else. I resonate with what Robert Sardello gives name to—The Silence and that it comes as grace.
For nearly a decade I was involved in the local Sufi community. I studied the teachings of Hazrat Inayat Khan who first brought Sufism to the West in 1910 – directed to do so by his own Sufi teacher in India. I attended zikr, a devotional chanting practice, regularly and, in the late 1990s, went to India with a group led by Pir Shabda Kahn, now spiritual director of the the Sufi Ruhaniat International in San Francisco. In Delhi, we paid our respects at the dargah of Hazrat Inayat Khan and, encircling his grave, raised our voices in zikr. The vibrations of this dogma-free Path of the Heart remain with me.
Yet never did I hear of his daughter Noor Inayat Khan in all that time I was so immersed in Sufi practice and study. Somehow, I came across a reference to her on the Internet. Curious because of her name, I did some research and was baffled by what I found. The source said this first-born child of Hazrat Inayat Khan had been an agent for the Secret Operations Executive (SOE), an espionage agency known as “Churchill’s Secret Army.” I thought to myself, how could a young woman raised within that sacred lineage become a British spy? I delved more deeply and could clearly see what drove her.
Noor’s father — descendant of Indian nobility, Indian classical musician, Sufi mystic — met her mother Amina Begum né Ora Ray Baker — niece to a US Senator, cousin to Mary Baker Eddy who founded the Christian Science Church — at a public lecture he gave in San Francisco. Their love came quickly, but their courtship and prospective marriage were unacceptable to their families. They left the US and married in London. Four children quickly came along.
The family moved frequently and was largely dependent upon the generosity of followers. Her father traveled widely much of the time introducing Sufism to the West and forming centers. The family finally found a home in 1922 in Suresnes, close to Paris center, purchased for them by a wealthy Dutch devotee. Fazal Manzil, meaning House of Blessings, became their home and, for three months each summer, a Sufi school that overflowed with followers. There Noor grew up surrounded by family and community steeped in Sufi mysticism. She was a musician who played traditional Indian instruments and a singer of ragas, taught by her father. She was a poet and writer of children’s stories. Noor was consistently described as gentle, dreamy and shy even into adulthood. In some ways, it was an idyllic, if insular, upbringing. But her life changed dramatically when her father passed in 1927 while in India. Then in 1940 even more so when the family was forced to flee to London as the Germans advanced.
That was the significant point of departure from her former life. This introverted young woman, a practicing Sufi, was set on doing something to defend France. She volunteered for the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force (WAAF) and was randomly chosen to train as a wireless operator. Noor was noticed by the SOE and subsequently invited for an interview, then offered a position.
At times she gave her superiors fits for she refused to lie, that necessary tool of a secret agent. They had to reframe the requirements of the job and relanguage things she would need to say in order for it to be palatable for her sensibilities. However, she wasn’t tricked into what she was about to encounter.
Radio operators had about a six-week survival rate in German-occupied territory. Their job of tapping out coded messages back to England made them prime targets by the enemy. Noor was the first woman to be dropped into occupied France, making her way to Paris. She had to move frequently to avoid detection, and faced danger continually. The radio had to be carried in a clunky briefcase, readily noticeable and an instant giveaway if cracked open.
The SOE espionage networks fell apart. One agent after another was caught, interrogated, jailed, executed or, worse, shipped off to concentration camps. Finally, she was the only remaining radio operator. Noor was alone. She was told to evacuate by her superiors back in England. She refused and persisted radioing coded missals on her frequency, Poste Madeleine.
How she remained calm in the middle of terrible danger can only be due to the great spiritual strength she carried. She steadily gave the Gestapo the slip until she didn’t. Enduring lengthy interrogation and torture, she gave away nothing. Dachau was the final stop.
She called out one word in the split second before her execution. Liberté!
Noor is a sacred Sufi word meaning light.
***
There is much to this story not mentioned here. Although posthumously awarded the honors, the George Cross by Britain and the Croix de Guerre by France, Noor’s incredible bravery and all the lives she saved by such fierce devotion went otherwise unsung for years. She was in the company of many equally as courageous but outside mainstream. She wasn’t a white man.
But over the last 15 years she is being given her due. The Noor Inayat Khan Memorial Trust was founded in London to “promote the message of peace, non-violence and religious and racial harmony, the principles Noor Inayat Khan stood for.” And her memorial was unveiled in 2012 in Gordon Square by Princess Anne.
The 2013 film Enemy of the Reich gives a good overview of her war years. It’s streaming on Amazon Prime.
If you really want to understand how this unlikely young woman was so inspired, risked her life and maintained her unshakeable courage to the very end, read the 2006 book Spy Princess: The Life of Noor Inayat Khan by Shrabani Basu. Available in the public library and wherever books are sold.
In 1889, a young girl was overcome with a mysterious affliction, some say a response brought on by an attack from a rejected suitor. She fell ill to the degree she took no sustenance and descended into a coma-like state. Nothing could be done either by the ranch’s curandera, the local doctor or the ever-present praying women circled around her bed. As her skin grayed and shriveled, her father had to face a reality. She was quickly slipping away. On the twelfth day, he instructed his men to build a coffin. When finally her breath ceased, heart stilled and no pulse could be found, all knew the worst had happened. After the ritual washing of the body, she was clothed in white and laid on a table in a room with candles, the coffin nearby. There she would be placed the next morning. The women began their overnight vigil, praying as they would. Suddenly, about midnight, there was a scream from one of the women who glanced up from her bowed head to notice slight flickering of the girl’s closed eyes and movement in her body. Then more screams from the rest and a rush out the door…for the girl slowly sat up and began looking around the room disoriented.
Over the next three months, she remained in a trance-like state. Her weakened condition returned to normal over that time, but for much of it she had to be cared for and fed. She showed no interest in food and displayed no emotions or interest in anything. Remaining in her room, she withdrew into herself or sometimes gazed into space as though seeing beyond this dimension.
Then one day, the fugue lifted as quickly as it came…and she began to heal the afflicted merely through her presence, gaze of her eyes, vibration of her words, and laying on of hands. And somehow…she correctly foretold futures. None of these capabilities existed previously.
She was 17 years old. Her name was Teresa Urrea, affectionately known as Teresita, the illegitimate daughter of Cayetana Chávez and Tomás Urrea. Soon she would become widely known, throughout Mexico, the US and elsewhere, as Santa Teresa of Cabora and, in some circles, the Mexican Joan of Arc and Queen of the Yaquis.
Teresita’s mother was a Tehueco Indian, 14 years old at her daughter’s birth. Her father was a wealthy landholder of Spanish lineage, a patron owning several ranches. At 15, she was taken into Don Tomás’ home where she made the transition to a girl of privilege – for which she cared little – while alternately being schooled in herbalism by Huila, the ranch’s curandera. Her heart rested with those who had the least, and the Mayo and Yaqui Indians of the Sonoran region.
Teresita first began her healing ways with mothers during childbirth, easing pain and moving babies in dangerous birthing positions. But quickly the incidents moved on to other ailments. There was an uncanny similarity to some of the stories of Jesus. A paralyzed man found he walked after her quiet urging and touch. A deaf boy suddenly able to hear. There were countless others. Now, such fantastic tales could easily be dismissed were it not for the fact that they were corroborated by eye witnesses and consistent over time. When she was unable to dispel disease, she instilled peace and readiness for passing.
Word spread like wildfire. It wasn’t long until the sick and their families, in the thousands, made pilgrimage, setting up camp to wait for audiences with Teresita. In all her short lifetime, she accepted nothing from people for her work. Life for Santa Teresita of Cabora – declared so by the people she served (which brought anger from the Catholic Church) – her father or any of those associated with the Urrea ranch would never be the same again.
The Yaqui and Mayo Indians uplifted her as their champion. Word made its way to northern Chihuahua, and the ears of Cruz Chávez, a rebel mestizo religious fanatic in the remote village of Tomochic. Chávez and followers made their own journey to consult Teresita. Thereafter, he kept correspondence with her until his death during the siege and massacre of Tomochic, perpetrated by Porfirio Díaz, president of Mexico, and the federal army.
Although Teresita’s message was always one of peace and tolerance, she was blamed for the Tomochic uprising, a precursor to the Mexican Revolution. Later discovery of letters between Chávez and Teresita proved her innocent of any inciting. However, the Mexican government continued to hold her accountable for subversive activities regarding insurgence of the Yaqui and Tomochi and feared her influence. At the age of 19, this devout young woman – an Innocent in so many ways – was arrested by the federales. Threatened with execution, she opted for exile over the border to the US. Don Tomás left his wife, mistress, many children and properties behind and accompanied her. Over the next years Teresita would be exploited by a “medical company” for their own gain and a political activist-publisher, a longtime family friend, in support of his cause against Porfirio Díaz. She would live in Arizona, Texas, California and New York, and travel across the US.
Santa Teresita of Cabora would finally return to the small town of Clifton in eastern Arizona where she would live out her days. There she was diagnosed with tuberculosis and passed in 1906 at 33 leaving two young children. Having healed so many, she was unable to heal herself. She is buried next to her father.
Teresita remains venerated.
I will admit to a fascination with Teresita, her life being well documented. I’m not the only one. William Curry Holden, historian and archaeologist, researched her life for 20 years, speaking to those remaining who had known her and going to the places she had frequented, along with unearthing newspaper articles of the time. His investigation culminated in Teresita, a straightforward biography published in 1978 that reads like a good novel.
Author Luis Urrea discovered he was Teresita’s great-nephew after a colleague suggested it in 1978. He thought back to what he considered interesting but false family stories he’d heard as a boy from an aunt in Tijuana describing an ancestor who could heal and fly. Then he found there were those who had written books about her. His lengthy novels The Hummingbird’s Daughter (2005) and Queen of America (2011) fill in any gaps left by Holden with lyrical language and story.
I’ve read all 3 of these books but left wanting more. This spring I may be making a pilgrimage over to Clifton in search of any lingering presence Teresita may have left.
The Lifepath Dialogues offer an invitation toward embodiment of all that is life-affirming and the deeper meaning of sustainability. Themes are drawn from books "Calling Our Spirits Home" and "Standing Stark" and 30+ years as a conscious living mentor leading spiritual travel journeys with Indigenous Wisdom Keepers serving their communities, group and individual programs. Carla formally closed her work in 2024 but continues to document her many years' experiences and learnings. The author may be reached via cwoody.kenosis@gmail.com.
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On that note, several months ago I stumbled upon 
Yet never did I hear of his daughter Noor Inayat Khan in all that time I was so immersed in Sufi practice and study. Somehow, I came across a reference to her on the Internet. Curious because of her name, I did some research and was baffled by what I found. The source said this first-born child of Hazrat Inayat Khan had been an agent for the Secret Operations Executive (SOE), an espionage agency known as “Churchill’s Secret Army.” I thought to myself, how could a young woman raised within that sacred lineage become a British spy? I delved more deeply and could clearly see what drove her.
She was 17 years old. Her name was Teresa Urrea, affectionately known as Teresita, the illegitimate daughter of Cayetana Chávez and Tomás Urrea. Soon she would become widely known, throughout Mexico, the US and elsewhere, as Santa Teresa of Cabora and, in some circles, the Mexican Joan of Arc and Queen of the Yaquis.
The Lifepath Dialogues 