A Million Flames

A Million Flames Many years ago I had a memorable dream. I was in the desert with a dear friend. Inthe distance a dust storm grew in fury and intensity heading towards us. As it neared we saw the cause of the disturbance. Hundreds of long-haired women were riding magnificent horses. Each woman was dressed in flowing white robes and held aloft swords and shields. One woman, more magnificent than the rest, led the riders. She and two other warriors pulled up their horses and came to where my friend and I were standing. They led riderless ponies, one silver and one black. Speaking telepathically the leader explained the story and mission of the women warriors. She said, "Now is the time. We can wait no longer." Then she pointed to the two riderless ponies and asked, "Will you join us? If so, saddle up!" The two warriors handed us the reins to the horses and directed us to ride with them. We mounted up and rode towards a huge gathering of women.  Thousands were in a circular ceremony around a presence in the center.  It was the DivineMother/Goddess who drew a silver and black highly polished sword and tossed it up into the heavens.  The sword fell back towards the fire where it landed and broke into a million flames.  Each flame illuminated the tops of the heads of all the women assembled.  The Divine Mother was empowering them to remember that they were being called in service to humanity. A few months ago Gail Sheehy, well known author of Passages, was the keynote speaker at a women's conference I attended. She said women were somehow persevering above the ever-present crises in their lives, by taking on the world and reinventing themselves. In a model of global empowerment, they were stirring the barriers and beginning to understand what activation was all about. The women were re-tooling their skill sets for the new world. They were no longer content to suffer in silence. Instead, they were relying on other women for help in their causes rather than deferring to the government, the military or the entrenched systems. Sheehy called them "fearless women" whose outspoken behavior incited other women to action. Her words recalled the dream of a million flames empowering women to serve humanity. These are the ones who are changing the world. In the end, that is the true work of women - flourishing together through collaboration and cooperation and making the world a better place for all of us. Jo Mooy - June 2012

Snapshots of a Mother

Snapshots of a Mother

She was formidable but gentle. Practical, yet given to dreams and fantasy. She was British, haughty, regal and very elegant. She was called "the most beautiful" of eight sisters, all of whom were well-known beauties. She was adventurous, swimming in barracuda infested waters in her thirties and body-surfing into her late seventies. She wrote both prose and poetry, was an artist, articulate, well-educated and well-read. She was a prolific writer, leaving hand-written commentaries in the margins of books and opinionated note-cards about people or current events tucked into nooks and crannies. In the latter part of her life, religious fervor blossomed. Not until the last year of her life did I notice a hint of mysticism. She was often challenging but nevertheless, a strong guiding force in my life. She was my mother!

She sometimes lived in a fantasy world where chivalry was still the norm and ladies dressed a certain way and behaved with elegance and decorum. I remember once yelling out the car window to a friend. With her famous haughty tone of disapproval, she informed me that "Ladies don't shout from moving cars." Over the years I learned that ladies didn't do a lot of things that I was guilty of doing. I told her I was going to put on her tombstone, "Ladies Don't ..." But I never did.

She often talked about the movers and shakers of the world as though she knew them personally. She spoke fondly of Sir Richard Branson's adventures circumnavigating the world by balloon and insisted he wrote her after one of his failed attempts. My two sisters and I indulged the fantasy, rolling our eyes behind her back. She regaled us with stories of her correspondences with Al Roker, KatieCouric, Pope John and other dignitaries. We were positive she'd gone over the edge. But after her death we found boxes of letters from all the people she'd told us about. She'd written to correct their pronunciation of a word on a TV broadcast, or to congratulate them about an achievement. In the box we found hand-written response letters or post cards from Branson, Katie Couric, Jimmy Carter, Al Roker, and all the people she'd written. Just like she said! She also wrote commentaries about people in public office that she didn't care about. I found this on a newspaper clipping about Richard Nixon's death: "An outpouring of insincere words for an unscrupulous man. I'll put out the flag not for that rogue but for the Presidency."

She was a feminist long before the word became an anthem for a generation. The Belgian nuns who taught on the island insisted that boys could take art but girls had to take needlepoint. I wanted desperately to take art with the boys but the nuns told my mother it was impossible. Petitioning my grandfather, a formidable man in his own right, both of them visited Mother Superior at the Convent. I never found out what they talked about, but the next day I was the only girl in the "boys art class." She concluded rules should be challenged and lived that lesson to the end of her life. When she was stopped for speeding in a residential area she told the young police officer that she was late for Mass. When he told her she was speeding in a 30 mph area, she summoned her most disdainful tone. She told him he'd be of much better use to society by tracking down real criminals instead of 82 year old women on their way to church. He let her go.

 

These stories are the snapshots of a life well taught and well lived. But it was not until her funeral mass that I learned about the deep faith and mysticism that guided her life. We all knew she went to Mass every day and that she donated to charities all over the world by helping the poor and those in need. But it was learning about her personal practices that moved me to tears that day.

When the funeral began a tall, thin, man with ragged clothes, a knotted rope for a belt, long wet hair and a long beard tucked into a rumpled shirt walked into the Church. He stopped in front of a photo of my mother for a full sixty seconds then placed his hands in prayer and began softly talking to her. Then he went to the front of the Church and knelt there for the entire service.

After the funeral family and friends milled around talking. I caught sight of the homeless man standing alone with a sad smile on his face staring at my mother's photo. I went to him and introduced myself. He told me his name was Jim. When I asked how he knew my mother he said: "Your mother was a kind woman. When no one else cared about me, she did. If you look at me you can see why others would shun me. Your mother never did. She picked me up at Publix grocery store every morning and took me to mass with her. Then she made me come and have breakfast in the church hall with all the ladies. Most of the time it was my only meal of the day, but your mother always fed me. She was a great lady and I loved her very much. She helped me to find the Lord God in my life and to believe in God again."

I invited him to eat with us. He felt he couldn't because of all the fine people that were present at the funeral. I insisted he join us, and barely reaching his chest, hugged him. When I pulled back I saw tears flowing down his cheeks. All he said was, "Thank you ma'am! Your mother was a fine lady and I loved her. She saved my life." Jim had lunch with us at the family table. Just like mom would have wanted!

On Mother's Day 2012, I celebrate her life well lived and her life of spiritual influence. Happy Mother's day, Mom! This is for you and all the moms who have left us a legacy to live up to!  

 

Jo Mooy - May 2012  

Life Do Overs

Life's Do Overs

 

I was thinking about 2012 and all the anticipation its brought to so many people. After reflecting on all the reasons that it's held us enthralled one simple thought rang out. 2012 offers a chance to really start anew with a blank slate. The more I thought about that blank slate, it seemed that like kids or casual golfers, we're looking down the barrel of a real-life Do-Over.  

Life is so full of promise and opportunity, especially when you're young. Goals get set and each one seems achievable. You're invincible! You can do anything and conquer any challenge. Then something happens along the way. John Lennon called it life. He said, "Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans." He said that in a song lyric written just before he died.

But what about us? What about the goals and invicibility? As we get older, go off to college, get a job, assume more and more responsibility, perhaps get married and have children, the goals go dormant. All the promises and ideas we had sort of go into limbo. Most of the time, even the dreams get put aside. Every so often we're reminded of them, but usually it takes a crisis - health, job loss, death in the family, or even age - to revive the old thoughts or ideals of our youth. As the crisis unfolds we finally take time to look back on the life journey and wonder how the choices of the past took us to this point.

But what if we took a moment at this stage in life to reflect on what's important now? Is what we're doing now different from what was important in our youth? Can the dreams be re-captured?  What if the dreams aren't lost but were merely shelved? We often ask "God" to help us out of the crisis and usually make promises that go for naught.  But, what if there was a chance to "do over" our life? 

Recently, I read an article about a hospice care-giver who spent most of her time with patients in the final stages of their lives. She noticed most people grow the most when faced with their own mortality. So she undertook a project of asking herpatients what were the five things they most regretted in life or would have done differently. The patients, knowing they were in the final hours of their lives, wished they had done many things before it was too late.

Their Life Do-Over wishes were more than a list. The Do-Overs were really a philosophy of living. They spoke of being true, having courage, nurturing friendships, and expressing joy.  Their top five said:

 

1) I wish I had the courage to live a life true to myself instead of the life others expected of me.
2) I wish I hadn't worked so hard.
3) I wish I had the courage to express my feelings.
4) I wish I had stayed in touch with my old friends.
5) I wish I had let myself be happier. 

2012 opens the gateway to the new world prophecies. We have a clean slate and can write anything on it. We have more than the hospice patients. We have the dreams, the memories, the friendships and the awareness. And, better yet, we have the time. It's not too late for us! 

   

Jo Mooy - April 2012

13 Clanmothers

The 13 Clanmothers

In many ancient cultures the role of mother and medicine woman is honored, butmore specifically, in the northern Native American tribes, the Mothers of the Clans were held in sacred reverence.  These Clanmothers were the historians, the faith-keepers, spiritual advisors, and the ones who chose tribal leaders.  They served in rituals, ceremonies, medicine and spiritual events.  As life-givers, their role was keeper of the culture and history of the tribe. 

The Clan Mother was a leadership hereditary role, passed down from grandmother to mother to daughter.  In a sacred ritual, the baton was passed, impressing each woman with the importance of just rule, honoring the spirit, animal and earth kingdoms, keeping the stories of the lineage alive, and insuring the tribal leaders were functioning in alignment with the great laws of spirit and earth.  Because they were responsible for selecting the chief of the tribe so too would they remove the chief if he was not serving for the good of all.

Solar-Lunar Cycles

The Clanmothers like the Druids, Incas, Maya and other cultures dating back 5,500 years, honored the sacred rhythms and cycles of earth.  It was a natural process for them to follow the moon's rotation every 28 days because 28 days was also the female biological cycle.  This explanation led to a more harmonious indigenous calendar of 13 moons in a solar year.  In time, a specific Clanmother with a distinct role and message was assigned to each moon.

Clanmothers 

Each Clanmother has a purpose and a moon month.  The Clanmothers beginning with January are:  She who Talks With Relations, Wisdom Keeper, She Who Weighs The Truth, Looks Far Woman, Listening Woman, Storyteller, She Who Loves All Things, She Who Heals, Setting Sun Woman, She Who Weaves the Web, Walks Tall Woman, She Who Gives Praise, and the 13th and last one, She who Becomes Her Vision.

Each Clanmother has a specific color associated with her role and her mission.  That color holds a vibration that represents the month of that moon.  The Clanmother also brings a teaching message to men and women who wish to heal themselves and to prepare their own personal cycle for the coming new earth.

Equinox March 20, 2012 

In 2012, every one of the seasonal cycles becomes more refined, especially by the intentions we are setting forth for the year.  We are part of the great awakening of human consciousness.  On the Spring Equinox of March 20th, the rebirth begins in earnest.

Join in this sacred ceremony at South Lido Beach State Park at 7 pm.  Hear and take into your hearts the message from each of the Clanmothers.  It is the season of renewal, one that calls to us and to all we aspire to be. 

   

Jo Mooy - March 2012  

What's Love Got To Do With It

What's Love Got To Do With It?

It was 1984 when Tina Turner first asked that question in a song. The question hascolored the world that I see ever since I first heard it and it's become a pseudo-mantra in raising my own consciousness. When confronting any challenge, life change, large or minor life situation, the mantraWhat's Love Got To Do With It? puts a spin on the event that begs for more careful examination of what's being observed.

While the song highlights the physical, emotional and mental experiences associated with love, other aspects of love are alluded to. For, as the lyrics proclaim, "it means more than that."

Philosophers, scientists, chemists, biologists and mystics all interpret love from the lens of their focus. They say: Love is a chemical reaction in the brain; love is an emotional sensation; love is a religious experience; love is a magnetic energy field; love is God. From each perspective they're all correct. But sometimes, love can't be defined in scientific or metaphysical terms. In fact, when we see the effect it can have on humans or animals those definitions are useless. What's love got to do with those definitions? A whole lot more!

 

Worldwide, there are countless stories of compassionate caring and loyalty between species and within the same species. Recently, an internet video with over two million hits, showed a remarkable dog in Chile pulling its injured "friend" out of the way of four lanes of oncoming cars after the friend had been hit on the highway. After the tsunami in Japan, a Springer Spaniel stayed by the side of its injured companion for days, refusing to leave it even when rescuers arrived. Soldiers who have been away for years in Iraq or Afghanistan return home to find their loyal hounds overjoyed in welcoming them back. One video with over ten million hits shows a soldier arriving home from Kandahar, his duffel bags on the grass, as Gracie his Golden Retriever hears his voice, rushes from the house, circles around him and slobbers kisses all over him until the film runs out. What's love got to do with that?Everything! But love still "means more than that."

Love is a quality that's beyond the physical, emotional or mental ideas. Love is an ideal. It's a force in life that creates an energetic bond between beings. This force binds us together through loyalty, love, memory and friendship in a common compact. It causes us to risk our lives to save a stranger by rushing into burning buildings, forging raging rivers or standing in front of a shooter. This love which is selfless and unconditional, is the perfection of what we can become.

On this second month of 2012, we celebrate Valentine's Day, a day dedicated to Love. Future generations may look back and ask what really happened in 2012. They may find that Love had everything to do with 2012. In the new world dawning perhaps every day will be a day dedicated to Love. What a legacy to leave the earth. 

Jo Mooy - February 2012  

Two Discs One Message

Two Discs - One Message!

    

Two tiny spacecrafts, Voyagers 1 and 2, were launched in 1977.  Built to last only 5years, their mission was to fly to Jupiter and Saturn.  Then maybe, if everything worked out just right and the mechanical parts didn't freeze up, go past Uranus and Neptune.  Thirty years later they're now poised at the edge of our solar system and headed for deep space.

  
You may be wondering what Voyagers 1 & 2 have to do with 2012.  Probably nothing specific  but maybe everything in the abstract.  Scientifically and philosophically, Voyager was the best earth had to offer the cosmos.  If there were other beings out there, we not only wanted to contact them, but we wanted them to know about us.

Voyager was a messenger representing earth's hope for the future.  Each one carried a Golden Disc time capsule embedded with the sound of 55 languages and 115 images intended to communicate the story of earth to other space civilizations.  We were reaching out to the stars and desperately hoping someone would hear us.

Maybe the Mayan calendar served a similar purpose as Voyager.  It was also amessenger out of time that told us about an ancient culture.  The Mayan Disc presented a time-capsule of their recorded history, and shone a light on their knowledge of astronomy and mathematics.  The calendars within calendars explained the governance of their land, how they measured time, and best of all indirectly gave hope to future generations - ours.  

In many ways, the messages of the two discs are universal in scope.  They portray another time on earth.  They ask us to respect the old ways.  They suggest we might consider alternate possibilities for the future and perhaps choose a different path than the one being followed.  When the Mayan Discs were found, interpreters created a stir by predicting the world would end on the Winter Solstice of 2012.  More enlightened minds in the last 10 years disputed that theory by insisting the "end times" were simply that - the end of one long cycle and the start of another.  Instead of our species dying out on 12/21/12 we'd wake up on the 22nd with a renewed purpose.  In the awareness of the date, many of us would go on living our lives but with higher values and in more aligned states of being.

The young engineers who launched Voyager are now grandfathers.  They are being taught by  younger scientists and physicists.  Using newer technology, the young engineers are issuing commands to the two tiny ships so they can continue deep space exploration using less energy than it takes to run three light-bulbs.  They hope that when the spacecraft finally fall silent in the years to come, the message on the Golden Discs that once promised a peaceful earth would in fact be so.

While Voyagers discs have not yet been found by another civilization, it's pleasant to consider another species finding the discs, deciphering the messages, and visiting earth.  Who knows, maybe our great great grandchildren will be the ones traveling to distant galaxies to find the discs.   

But at the end of the day, or cycle, or time-line, the message from both discs is that the inherent human spirit is creatively alive and filled with hope;  that we look to the stars for inspiration; and there's the ultimate message of hope.  It is one that says wherever humans reside or interact with other species, spiritual peacefulness will prevail not just on earth but across the galaxies.

The message of the discs suggests that we have the power to form a new consciousness.  In a world view we can acknowledge differences yet embrace the one-ness of all people.  We are on the threshold of a glorious and peaceful universe.  It's ours to create.  And that is the biggest message of 2012 and beyond!   

Jo Mooy - January 2012  

Next Year Things Will Get Better

Next Year Things Will Get Better!

  

At the end of each year it's a Rite of Passage to look back on the predictions made at its start and see which ones were accurate and which failed to materialize. I was especially interested in 2011 because it was supposed to be the transformational eve for the major prophecies about 2012. So I took a journey into the history of predictions and was surprised where I ended up.  

   

Annual predictions have been part of every culture on earth far longer than recorded history. Geologist found star systems mapped out on cave walls dating over 25,000 years showing that ancient people looked to the stars for some sort of guidance. The movement of the constellations dictated the building of temples, the planting of crops, or the start of a war. So, I followed the trail from ancient times to the present to find out why predictions seem to be such an important part of our collective heritage.  

It's a natural behavior to contemplate the end of one season while preparing for the next one. Animals, birds and even the elements do it - storing up food, migrating to greener or temperate environs, air and temperature changing from hot to cold and back again. But humans add one more aspect to the process not evident in the other kingdoms. That aspect is Hope. It's an inherent trait evident in our species. Hiding behind the obvious prediction, humans assess their current situation but are generally hopeful things will get better the following year.      

Well publicized predictions through the ages are easy to find but not so the more subtle evidences of 'hope'. While preparing to write the December article a story found me. It's depth and scope was heart-warming. It was a story that showed how Hope remained kindled in the hearts of a group of men for more than 70 years even as their numbers dwindled. Their story is an indicator of human patience, conviction and finally justice. It's evidence of humanity's belief that "it will get better next year." From that perspective all the predictions of 2011 came into focus.

Most have heard of the Tuskegee Airmen, a squadron of African American pilots who served in World War II. But there were thousands of other African Americans who joined the elite Marine Corps whose stories were kept under wraps until 2011. "The Montford Point Marines" as they were called for the segregated boot camp they trained in, faced discrimination from the time they signed on until they were discharged. In the racism of 1941, the commandant of the Marines, when ordered to enlist the black recruits, said he would "rather take 5,000 white soldiers over 250,000 blacks."

  

The "Montford Marines" were sent to different boot camps from the white soldiersand kept in segregated units. When deployed, they sat in segregated trains. If the "black cars" were full, they had to wait for the next train, even if the white cars were empty. Their service was restricted to support services like defending the base or hauling ammunition to the front lines of battle. In the South Pacific these Marines carried their injured white counterparts back to safety while others readily picked up the weapons of the white Marines who were killed in battle. They stayed and engaged the fight before being ordered back to the rear at the conclusion of the battle.   

  

At the end of the war they faced more humiliation and discrimination when they returned home. The Red Cross routinely set up Welcome Home Stations with music, banners, coffee and sandwiches at the train stops for the soldiers coming home. Yet when a train with black soldiers entered the station locals closed and shuttered the food booths until the train left the station.  

  

Because they were not encouraged to remain in the service, the "Montford Marines" quietly exited the stage of national consciousness feeling unwanted and unrecognized.  But none of them ever forgot they were once "proud marines." For 70 years, though the Marine Corps refused to recognize them, they met every year to honor themselves, always hoping that "next year it will get better."   

  

Amid all the financial, political, and environmental predictions about 2011, no one paid any attention to the dwindling number of Montford Marines, now in their 80's and 90's.  That is until the current Marine Commandant heard about them and looked into their story. It so captured his attention he wanted to rectify the wrongs of the past.  He ordered that all new recruits be taught the history of the Montford Point Marines along with the rest of the Corps' legacy. He incorporated their story into the curriculum of advanced classes for senior officers. Then he went a step further.   

  

He rounded up the remaining "Montford Marines" some in wheelchairs, others using canes, to Washington D.C. where they were feted at a banquet hosted by the commandant and served by young marines in crisp blue uniforms. They watched a parade in their honor with the Marine Corp commandant and other military dignitaries. They met black officers who were now commanding the Marines. In a rare showing of bipartisan support, the US House of Representatives unanimously approved the Gold Congressional Medal for all the "Montford Marines" formally recognizing them for their proud service to the country.

   

The outpouring of support overwhelmed the aging veterans. One, struggling with hisemotions said, "At last I feel like a real marine!" When their bravery in the jungles of the south Pacific was mentioned, one said, "We did everything to prove our mettle, but it never seemed to be enough until now." One of the Montford Marines told a black officer "I feel so much pride seeing you in that Marine uniform. It's enough to make an old marine cry." The officer responded, "I owe it all to you, Sir!  I stand on your shoulders."

  

It took a stodgy military seventy years to make things right. All the while, the dwindling "Montford Marines" kept hoping that "next year things will get better." Then in 2011 a shift in consciousness occurred and things did get better for the remaining Marines. It was just a matter of patience and hope. 

Jo Mooy - December, 2011 

What if the World Ends This Month

What if the World Ends This Month?   It's hard to imagine that something that's been around for 4.5 billion years is goingto suddenly cease to exist this month. Especially on a specific date this month. And certainly, if not this month, then surely on December 21, 2012. Hundreds of internet stories, channelings, and/or prophecies, make it sound like the end is quite near.  Biblical passages are interpreted according to Armageddon beliefs, conspiracy theories are created to support a point of view, or the visible evidence of mother nature's wrath confirms the statement, See, we told you so!  Actually, with conditions on the planet seemingly so awful on every front, a huge shakeup just might be welcomed news all around.  But, I digress.  Things reached a fever pitch this year after a Comet named Elenin, entered our solar system in December 2010. Comets, are "dirty snowballs" primarily made up of loosely packed ice and dust. There are 4,185 identified comets in our solar system. Yet, why Comet Elenin's arrival caused such a big stir can only be attributed to the atmosphere of fear that prevails on our planet, which leaves most people feeling impotent.   It is claimed that Elenin will bring cataclysm to the planet such as we've not seen since Atlantis or Lemuria sank. Theories abound that Elenin's proximity to earth will cause a pole shift that will be preceded by three days of darkness. A recent website proclaimed with much certitude that a series of "pre-cataclysms" would occur between mid-August and September 5th. As soon as those dates passed without incident the website removed the dates and issued an update that the cataclysm had been replaced by "relatively small disasters" so that civilization could continue.   In the spirit of thoughtful discourse about the end times I did a little research. It seems that Comet Elenin will make its closest approach to earth on October 16th. For those who say it will create three days of darkness, that doesn't appear to be possible. Seen from the earth, the comet will not cross the face of the sun. Even if it did, the comet is but 2-3 miles across in size while the sun is 865,000 miles in diameter. For a comet of 2-3 miles in diameter to darken the sun (as in an eclipse) it would have to be 250 miles above the earth. This one is 22 million miles away.   Let's compare Elenin to the "Great Comet" Hale-Bopp which entered the solar system in 1997. It was visible to the naked eye for 18 months and seen by most people on earth. Hale-Bopp was estimated to be 25 miles in diameter. Yet what effect did it have on the planet? Yes, there were significant blizzards and then flooding in north America, but that was attributed to climate change, not the comet. There were other events that occurred in 1997 that had a much larger impact on humanity. Focusing on world events, 120 countries signed an agreement to eliminate land mines; the UN prohibition on Chemical Weapons went into effect; 150 countries signed the Kyoto Protocol on global warming; Britain gave Hong Kong back to China. If those events were influenced by Comet Hale-Bopp then I personally look forward to the arrival of little Elenin.   But if, (and that's a big IF) it should do what others suggest and the world does come to an end this month, what would you do? You've got twenty-eight days to live! How would you live those 28 days? What would you do different than you do now in your daily life? Would you head for high ground? So where would you go and what would you do?   Here's what I would do. To start, I wouldn't go anywhere for if the poles shift there is no high ground.  I also recognize that the earth is always in a state of releasing and purifying herself so perhaps this cleansing is long overdue. I also believe that our time in physical form is of a much shorter duration than our time in spirit form and it is to that spirit I would be returning. Therefore, I'd continue to look for the good in all while holding a vision of more enlightened ones returning to earth in a future time.     On a practical level, I'd talk every day with close friends, loved ones, or family, sharing our life stories, holding each other close and affirming love and kindness.  I'd go for walks in the morning and evening, catching breathtaking sunrises and sunsets that always make me feel closer to spirit.  Last, I'd light a candle, a stick of incense, sit down in meditation and wait. I'd do that all month until Elenin arrives.  Come to think of it, this is what I do every day!  So for me, this month won't be any different. What about you?  Om shanti, shanti, shanti!   ADDENDUM:  It seems Comet Elenin, made up of dust and ice, was felled by the sun's heat in late September.  A massive solar flare reduced it's size, visibility and impact.  The comet is all but forgotten.  Until the next fearful thing consumes our collective psyche.  ++++++++++++++ Jo Mooy - October, 2011

LEAVING AN IMPRESSION

Leaving an Impression  At 8:30 every morning he ambled past my window always wearing the same outfit -navy blue shorts, pockets bulging with dog treats, a white golf shirt, white sneakers with long white socks, a white baseball cap and oversized sunglasses. He was well-known throughout the neighborhood as "the guy with the dog biscuits" or "the guy who picked up the newspapers" or "the guy who carried in the trash-cans." He made an impression on us because he always wore a big smile and he knew everybody by first name. He always had a kind word or comment whenever he saw you. When the garbage men left the trash cans and lids in the middle of the street he picked up each one and walked it to the garage door. When the newspapers were tossed onto the driveways he'd pick them up and place them at the door. If you went for a walk and there were no newspapers in anyone's driveway you knew he'd already gone by. He knew who was traveling, who was ill, or who was visiting. He inquired if there was a strange car in your driveway for more days than it should have been. Yet, his "knowing" was never intrusive. Rather, it was a gentle caring about his neighbors and a genuine interest in all the people he met on his daily walks. But his most special affection was for all the dogs in our housing community. He knew every dog by name and they knew him. Dogs who never wanted to be petted by other than their owners would wait patiently or plant themselves on the sidewalk waiting for him to bring their doggie treats. My own dog would sit at his street corner waiting for him in the morning. When she had to be put on a special diet, he purchased the biscuits the vet required for her. Their daily ritual continued for several years until the day she died. On that day she was too weary to get up. But somehow her instincts told her he was coming down the street. She went to the door to be let out. In a final burst of energy she hurrieddown the walkway to see him and in retrospect, to say goodbye. She died a few hours after that. When he learned of her death he cried with us sharing the grief. I knew him by his daily walks, his kind acts, and his love of the neighborhood dogs. I knew he served the housing association through volunteer groups. I knew he was a veteran, but based on his youthful appearance assumed he served in Korea or Viet Nam. I knew his wife and knew he had an adult daughter. At 8:30 on a recent Wednesday morning he was walking ahead of me as I was riding my bike along the paved trails in our subdivision. I yelled out "Good morning, Robbie!" so as not to startle him. He stopped and waved as I pedaled past him. It was the last time I saw him alive. Thirty minutes later he was pronounced dead by paramedics after suffering a massive heart attack in the community clubhouse where he'd gone to lift weights. Looking back on the five years that our lives intersected I thought about all the times we'd spent talking about dogs and I asked myself, why I never asked him about his life. In his passing I learned so much about him. He was not in his early 70's as I'd assumed but rather was 84 years old. He was about to celebrate his 63rdwedding anniversary. He was a gifted musician playing the piano and organ. He traveled all over the world, living in many countries demanded of his job in the oil industry. There he made long-lasting friends as easily as he had done in our neighborhood. He'd made such an impression that letters from those friends still living in far-off lands filled the church's condolences box. But what stood out the most was how he befriended young people, encouraging them to be better than they were, to take responsibility, to go to college and to become good people. One young woman who followed his explicit guidance, a budding operatic marvel, sang his funeral service. A young man that he befriended 25 years earlier wrote a touching tribute about him and how much he owed to Robbie's counseling. It's said no one knows the day or the hour of our death. That's probably a good thing because it allows us to wake up greeting each day as a new beginning and giving us a fresh slate to write upon. Robbie's passing did that for me. I realized that this seemingly quiet man had actually left a huge impression on everyone he'd encountered during his lifetime. He didn't have a big pulpit to preach from, nor did he have a cause with a following. He simply cared about everyone he met and treated them kindly. And that can be contagious. Robbie's death has caused me to think about my life and how I conduct myself andto make some small changes. Now, I slow down on those bike rides, stopping to inquire about a neighbor's well-being, or to ask the questions like "Where do you call home?" "Do you have a family?" "How are you feeling today?" And yes, even sometimes I take a few moments to pick up the trash cans. I miss Robbie's physical presence as much as the dogs do. Sometimes I glance up from my computer and I catch a glimpse of him in his navy blue shorts and white baseball cap, his pockets bulging with dog treats as he ambles past my window. I know I'm seeing the impression he left on the streets of this retirement community just like the one he left in so many hearts. His daily routine created such an impression in people's lives that they remembered him by his random acts of kindness. His was a life well-lived.  Is there a better legacy to leave in this world than to know you touched lives this way?    SIDE NOTE: Two days ago while working in the garage with the door open I felt the unmistakable presence of Robbie ambling down the street.  The feeling was so powerful I turned around to look for him.  I was convinced he was standing in the driveway saying "Good morning, Jo."  Of course, he was not.  But his impression surely was as he continues to walk the neighborhood!  ++++++++++++++ Jo Mooy - September, 2011

The Georgia Guidestones

The Georgia Guidestones  

On a recent trip to Georgia for a spiritual retreat Patricia and I detoured to a one-traffic light town in the northern part of the state. It was the home of a little known structure called the Georgia Guidestones which are located seven miles north of a tiny rural town called Elberton which itself is about two hours northeast of Atlanta. Elberton, called the "granite capital of the world," produces more granite monuments in its thirty-seven quarries than any other city in the world. Those facts must have played a part in the decision of a strange visitor to erect a large blue-grey towering structure that has become known as America's Stonehenge. 

Thirty two years ago in June 1979 a mysterious man who called himself R.C. Christian came to Elberton, deposited a sum of money into the local bank along with specific instructions for erecting a granite monument. Christian gave no information about himself other than he was one of a group of individuals from out of state who had selected the highest elevation in Elberton to build a structure that was dedicated to the future of humanity. 

The monument was designed with astronomical, astrological, lunar, solar and environmental significance. There were four monoliths, each 6' wide and almost 20' high, pointing outwards in alignment with the four cardinal directions and the moon's transit in the course of a year. A freestanding central or "celestial" stone between the four cardinal stones supported a 6' x 9' capstone. A hole had been drilled at eye level through the central stone so that the North Star was always aligned and visible. There was also a horizontal slot drilled into the structure so that as the morning sun rose on its annual transit across the heavens it illuminated a ray on the Equinoxes and Solstices. Another slot carved into the upper capstone acted as a calendar marking noon on the stones during the sun's travels.

Each directional stone was carved with ten "guides" for the sustainability of the earth and its inhabitants. The 4" carvings are written in Russian, Chinese, English, Spanish, Arabic, Hebrew, Hindu and Swahili.  

The guidestones say:

   

1.  Maintain humanity under 500,000,000 in perpetual balance with nature.  

2.  Guide reproduction wisely - improving fitness and diversity.  

3.  Unify humanity with a living new language.

4.  Rule passion, faith, tradition, and all things with tempered reason.  

5.  Protect people and nations with fair laws and just courts.

6.  Let all nations rule internally resolving external disputes in a world court.

7.  Avoid petty laws and useless officials.  

8.  Balance personal rights with social duties.  

9.  Prize truth, beauty, love, seeking harmony with the infinite.  

10. Be not a cancer on the earth. Leave room for nature. Leave room for nature.

Inscribed on the 13-ton capstone atop the central monolith are the words: Let These be Guidestones to an Age of Reason written in the ancient languages of Sanskrit, Babylonian Cuneiform, Egyptian Hieroglyphics and Classical Greek.

Several feet from the main structure lies a slab of granite flat on the earth that is known as the Time Capsule. It gives a bit of information about the structure's astronomical alignment, that R.C. Christian was a pseudonym and indicates that a time capsule was buried six feet below the slab and was to be opened with no date specified.

With the monument at the highest elevation in Elberton County, it offers panoramic vistas to the east and west. Its remote location and the lack of information about it in guidebooks makes it difficult to find. Yet, it stands testament with guiding principles to the future of the earth and to humanity's life upon it.

While it's difficult to argue with the ten messages of the Guidestones, detractors and conspiracy theories nonetheless abound. Some say the name R.C. Christian was chosen by the anonymous stranger to pay tribute to the esoteric teachings of Christian Rosen Kreuz (Christian Rosy Cross) the legendary founder of the Rosicrucian Order. Religious fundamentalists say the monument was built for devil and sun worship and have demanded that the stones be dismantled and pulverized.

Still others claim there are secret codes in the stones linking them to the tallest building in the Middle East even though the Guidestones were built thirty years before the Burj Khalifa in Dubai. Sadly in 2008, the stones were defaced by vandals who painted, "Death to the new world order" across the tablets. Most of the graffiti had been removed during our visit in June 2011 but there was evidence of additional vandalism with hate-filled words carved specifically across the Arabic and Chinese stone faces.

On the morning of our visit, Patricia and I held a sacred vigil and a meditation at the base of the stones.  As we stood alone in the early morning humidity and heat of Georgia, we prayed for the earth, for her inhabitants, and for all the nations represented on the stones. We set a perimeter of sound and light around the monument so that only harmony would be seen by its visitors. We aligned our intentions with those of the builders so that we would "not be a cancer upon the earth" and that there would soon be a time when an "age of reason" would prevail on earth. Surely, if we all align with the higher vision of seeing loving goodness in every person, the golden age we clamor for will one day be the reality on earth.

++++++++++++++  

Jo Mooy - August, 2011