Loving Rainbows

Posted on May 30, 2023 by Diana Rankin

I love rainbows. I love the diversity of all the different expressions of red to orange to purple to pink to blue to green to yellow. I love the burst of different colors; it’s the differences that make the beauty of the rainbow.

Never do I ask a rainbow what colors they choose to express and spread around the world. That’s none of my business. It’s the rainbow’s business, not to be questioned by someone who has no understanding of what makes a rainbow or how or why rainbows were created. After all, rainbows never ask me why I am who I am or why I am the way I am. They’re too busy bringing color and love to the world.

Rainbows don’t understand why some people don’t like them. Why do some people want all rainbows to be the same? Or why do they accuse rainbows of making children be full of rainbow’s colors? Why do they want rainbows to hide behind dark clouds?

I don’t understand any of that. Why would anyone want only darkness in their life when they can have the beauty of variety, the excitement of multiple ways of expression, the celebration of differences?

I guess some people are so unhappy they feel the need to criticize rainbows for being happy. I guess some people are so insecure they feel the need to try to stop rainbows from shining in all their glorious ways. I guess some people are so full of fear they believe they will feel more secure if they can stop everyone from seeing the glory of rainbows. It’s that old fear that: I have to convince you to believe what I believe because if you believe what I believe then I must be right.

What a shame. How can anyone not love rainbows? It’s the very explosion of the different colors that make them so beautiful and so needed in our world of too much sameness. It’s in the sameness that we stop thinking for ourselves; it’s in the beauty of accepting and loving the multitude of the differences that we truly see the beauty of life.

I’m not a man, but I love men. I’m not young, but I love young people. I’m not you, but I love you. I’m not this or that or a lot of things, but I still love all of the this and thats. And I love rainbows. So—

Shine on rainbows. Shine on.

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Piper’s Fun Weekend

Posted on May 30, 2023 by Diana Rankin

I liked my weekend. It was extra good.

I helped Mom pick up sticks. I helped cut down the grass too. I chewed on the tall stalks and made them short.

And I barked at that thing Mom used to tell trees to go away. It was really noisy. I didn’t like it. I had to bark really loud because Mom made me stay far away. It was still fun barking at it. Mom called it a saw. I told it who was boss. I am.

Uncle Michael came to visit. He petted me lots and lots and told me what a good girl I am. He gave me treats and threw my ball for me to run and catch. I had to run really, really far to catch it. Uncle Michael’s a really good ball thrower.

I was sad when he left. But he had to get home to Aunt Michelle and their doggy Murphy. He’s a puppy. Murphy, not Uncle Michael. Uncle Michael’s a human.

The next day Mom and I went out to the meadow. We raced to the sunshine. I won. I always do.

Mom threw my ball for me. She can’t throw it as far as Uncle Michael. It was still fun chasing it in the meadow. The butterflies tried to catch my ball. I didn’t let them.

Then I got a good brushing. Mom brushed me outside. That was the best. The wind talked to me. It liked my fur. I found some old fur to let go of. I gave it to the wind.

Next, we went to the lake. I got to ride in the car. I like to ride in the car. And I like the lake. Most of the time anyway. It was really, really crowded at the beach. I didn’t like that. We left the beach and walked a trail. I liked that. No one was there but Mom and me. That was good.

When we came home, I had dinner. Dinner’s good. Almost as good as treats.

I wish weekends could last all week. But if they did, I guess it wouldn’t be a weekend.

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Creating the Blue Feather

Posted on May 27, 2023 by Diana Rankin

In workshops, I’ve often challenged people to find a blue feather. It’s a way to convince ourselves that we do create what we want. There are two stories I tell when assigning the blue feather task.

The first story is how I found a blue feather. The second is Cindy’s story. Hope both stories give you a smile…and maybe a little self-recognition. Both stories took place some time ago, but they are as valid today as they were then.

I had just read Richard Bach’s Illusions, a great book I highly recommend. I was reading the book because I was at a time in my life when I was caught in the illusion of non-creation and needed to be reminded of how to create.

In the book, Donald, the teacher, talks to Richard about creating, specifically how to create. Donald suggests that Richard start with something easy to find to prove to himself that he can create. Richard starts with a blue feather.

Of course, Richard found his blue feather. It was right in front of him on a jar on the table at which he and the teacher sat. I too found my blue feather, but not as easily as Richard found his.

It was a Friday evening when I decided I needed to find a blue feather. I gave myself until Sunday night to do so. All weekend, I looked for that blue feather. When we try too hard, we actually pushed away that which we want to create, but at the time, I forgot the importance of surrendering, the fourth step in creation.   

Here are the first three steps:

First, to create, we need a clear motivation. My motivation for creating the blue feather was clear. I wanted to remind myself that I knew how to create and manifest.

Next, visualize what you want to create. Several times during the weekend, I visualized that blue feather in my hand. I used my senses. I could see it and feel it in my hand. It was real.

Be aware of your thoughts and be grateful for the manifestation. I lived in the city, so I went out to the woods to walk. Surely blue feathers were more plentiful in the country. I lived in the energy of the blue feather and stayed in gratitude for it appearing in my life.

But still no blue feather.

Sunday evening came. I was ready to give up. I was so frustrated and down. I felt like such a failure. It was then I gave it over to Spirit. “Okay, I said. “If that blue feather is going to show up it’s going to be on your timetable, not mine. It would be nice if it showed up, but Your timetable, not mine, Your Will, not mine. I had decided what I wanted, did all the work, but until that moment, hadn’t given it over to the Divine Self to do the work.

Within a few moments, I was tired, really tired. Thought I’d fall asleep right there on the den sofa, if only for a few minutes, but felt compelled to go all the way upstairs to the bedroom. We can be so lazy when Spirit speaks to us. It’s so easy to not listen or expel the energy to do what is asked of us. When I finally convinced myself to get up, I heard my inner voice tell me to turn around. Of course, I had to be told more than once, but I did turn around.

There, inside my home, in the city, right next to the box of cat toys was Sesame, one of my cats. She was pulling out a cat toy. You guessed it. The toy was a ball with a blue feather attached. Caught on her claw, Sesame looked up at me as if to say, “Meow, Mom, Here’s your blue feather.”

Cindy’s story begins in one of my year-long workshops. Participants were tasked with finding a blue feather before our next gathering the following month.

As we began to gather, everyone was filled with excitement at finding their blue feathers. All except Cindy. She came through the door last, with a handful of white feathers. “I tried and tried to find a blue feather,” she said. “It wasn’t happening. On the drive up here, I got behind a truck full of chickens and white feathers kept flying at me.”

Cincy looked a bit sheepish as she continued her story. “I gave up. At least I have a bunch of white feathers. Then she broke into a smile. “When I got out of my car here, I looked down at the ground and guess what. There was a blue feather. Right there. At my feet. A blue feather.” With those words, Cincy lifted up her other hand that was holding her blue feather.

Here’s your homework. Find your blue feather and know you are the creator of your life.

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Piper Scolds the Humans

Posted on May 27, 2023 by Diana Rankin

Uncle Michael came to visit. I got so excited. I love Uncle Michael. He pets me and plays ball with me.

I watched him get out of his truck. He started walking to me. I got so excited. I knew I was going to get lots of pets and love. And I did. He petted and petted me and talked to me. “Hi Piper. How you doing?” He said.

I told him I’ve been a good girl. I was really excited. I could hardly wait for him to throw the ball for me to chase after.

I waited and waited. I sniffed his hands, but I couldn’t find the ball. “Hey, Uncle Michael, stop talking to Mom and throw my ball. I’ll run really fast and catch it.” I kept sniffing him. But I still couldn’t find the ball. Then the unthinkable happened.

Mom walked to the house. And she made me go with her. Oh no! Wait, it’s okay. We’re just going for my ball. That’s why we’re going into the house. But why is Uncle Michael going to the barn? Why isn’t he coming to the house with us?

Mom walked over to the treat box. My ball’s there too. But Mom didn’t pick up my ball. Instead, she said that Uncle Michael was working on the barn and couldn’t be distracted. She said she was going into the garage to clean it. Then she said the unforgivable.

“You have to stay in the house.”

“What?” I barked and barked. “How can you say that Mom? You always let me come with you. Always. I need to protect you from garage boxes that might try to attack you. Or, what if there’s a monster in the garage?”

Mom didn’t care. She went to the garage anyway. Without me.

I ran over to the big window in the door. I could see Uncle Michael over by the barn. I barked and barked at him. I even saw him when he came over near the house. I barked even more then. But he ignored me. Ignored me!

I couldn’t see Mom. But I could hear her. I barked at her. She ignored me too.

I just kept barking. And barking. It wore me out to scold them. Maybe they were right. Maybe sometimes humans need to do things that doggies can’t do.

All this barking is wearing me out. Guess I’ll curl up here in my soft bed and eat this treat Mom gave me. I’ve been so busy barking I forgot about the treat. It’s good too. Really good. It’s even better than scolding the humans.

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On the Way to Grace . . . Chopping Wood and Carrying Water                                      

Posted on May 21, 2023 by Diana Rankin

I guess I should have known the day wasn’t going to go as I planned when the first thing I saw when I stepped out onto the deck Sunday morning was a red tail hawk taking flight from my backyard garden.  Often I see hawks fly over my home, even occasionally see them land in the meadow out beyond the backyard or in the fields when swooping down to pick up prey, but this was the first time I had seen one take off from the garden. He gave me a quick flash of his pale belly with its band of darker feathers, the color of the top of his wings, before he fully spread his broad wings out wide as he rose above the ground and was off among the tree tops and out of my sight. I thanked him for his visit, and then got about my day, well-planned as it was with a full to-do list of outside chores.

Now you would certainly think I would know by now that the best laid plans of humankind usually go astray. The first glitch came when the riding mower refused to start—this after it started up just fine—twice. But it refused to start the third time, and this after I had hooked up the garden trailer and driven all 900 feet to the end of the lane and filled up the trailer with newly-timed tree branches. So here I am at the end of the lane, with my plans to deliver this load of newly-cut branches to the brush pile at the other end of the lane.  On the way, I thought I’d pick up a couple small trees that had come down in the last storm, throw them on top of the tree branches and be off to the brush pile. But here I was, stuck with a mower that refused to cooperative with my well-planned day.

I turned the key again in hopes of the mower starting. Nothing. The engine wasn’t even turning over. Not one single gruuuu or spit or sputter. Red Tail flew overhead going from a tree in the north woods to the utility pole almost directly above my head.  Hawk sat on his perch eyeing me below the way he watches for small mice and moles among the rows of soybeans. I pushed in the clutch, put the gear shift in neutral, and turned the key to start once more. Nothing.

Sheeeee, went the hawk. I turned the key again. Still nothing. A breeze kicked up and ruffled the velvet tops of the soybeans sending green waves across the fields. Once more I turned the key to try to start the mower. Not sure why I kept turning the key. You would think I’d get it that the engine wasn’t turning over, but isn’t that the way it is with our thoughts and deeds? We keep thinking the same old thought and doing the same old thing and expecting a different outcome. So there I was doing the same old thing and expecting the mower to suddenly change its mind and start. It was having none of it.

I pushed the lever to engage the blades, and then disengaged them. Sometimes the blades stick in place, which keeps the engine from starting. Still nothing, but at least I had a different thought and tried something different. But still it didn’t seem to do any good. Hawk looked down at me. The sun was growing as hot as my temper. A familiar panic was beginning to grow in my gut as I started fretting about what to do. The starter probably went out again. How am I going to get the mower to the repair shop without a trailer hitch? Who could I call to come here to fix it? The mower’s old. Should I buy a new one? I need a new roof. Not a time to buy a new mower. And on and on and on.

Red Tail screeched as he took off, circled a few times over the field, and then landed on a utility wire at the other end of the south field. I started walking down the lane, on my way picking up one of the fallen trees and dragging it to the brush pile. I did that a couple more times, walking down the lane to drag back a fallen tree or push the trailer full of cut-limbs back to the tree line. Between trips up and down the lane, I trimmed the trees at the tree line, even bringing out the ladder to reach those over my head. 

It would be nice to tell you that friends unexpectedly showed up and fixed the mower, but that didn’t happen. I could have called a friend for help, but that didn’t happen either. I just spent the next several hours trimming trees and walking up and down the lane, and as I did I let go of control, and somewhere among all this chopping wood and carrying water, all those jumbled thoughts, plans for the day, and questions of what should I do now, all left my mind, replaced by the quiet of the day and the knowing that life was unfolding as it should, so I might as well just enjoy it.

About the time I was spending as much time drinking water as I was trimming trees, I figured it was time to quit and turn to less strenuous work. Mowing would have been perfect, but it wasn’t to be, and I was okay with that. Still, I did not relish pushing the mowed all 900 feet back down the lane. As I started walking toward it, I asked the mower to work, saw it running, saw me riding it with the blades cutting off the top layer of grass for a smooth finish of green along the lane. Thanked it for serving me so well and faithfully. And then I let go, knowing I would have the strength to push the mower back to the garage. So I kept walking, enjoying the day, the breeze that cooled me, the quiet of the countryside, and the way my life was unfolding this day.

Joseph Campbell said, “We must be willing to give up the life we have had planned in order to have the life that is waiting for us.” I suppose that is true whether that life be a well-planned life or a well-planned day. When we are able to let go of our small power and let life move through us, we are able to live in a much greater way.

On the way down the lane toward the mower, I stopped to pick up a feather—a red tail hawk feather. “Thanks, buddy,” I said, knowing that at some level he heard me. And so did the mower. As soon as I sat on the mower and turned the key, it purred into action.

Update: Originally published in 2010 on my old blog, thought this was worth republishing. It’s something we all can learn from. And yes, I do have a new mower.

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Piper Takes Care of Mom

Posted on May 21, 2023 by Diana Rankin

My Mom was sick. For two whole days. Two days! I took really good care of her. Honest I did. I watched her every second. Okay, I didn’t do it alone. Lily the cat helped too.

I stayed next to Mom all the time. Every single minute. Even when I was sleeping. I was still watching over her. I wake up really, really fast.

Lily helped keep our mom warm. She laid on top of her. I didn’t lay on top of Mom. Lily said that would be too much. I listened to Lily ‘cause I’ve never seen Mom sick. Lily has. Lily’s older than me and has lived with Mom longer.

It was really scary to see Mom sick. I mean really, really scary. I didn’t know what to do. We figured it out together.

When I had to go outside, Mom let me go all by myself. I can do that. I’m a big girl. I knew Mom was watching over me. I could see her near the door. When I was done, I ran as fast as I could back inside. I didn’t want to leave Mom alone for very long. She needed me.

Mom’s restroom is inside. It’s not like mine. My restroom is outside. But you knew that. Anyway, I always went with Mom when she went to her restroom. I stayed really close to her. I even licked her leg. That helped heal her. Mom told me so.

We tried to go for a walk. It was pretty short. Mom said she just didn’t have it in her to walk all the way down the lane. She promised we would go for a longer walk later.

And we did. The next day. Mom felt better so we walked all the way down the lane and back. Mom said that Lily and I healed her. That’s because we love her, and she loves us.

Love heals. That’s what Mom said. I believe her.

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Morning Meditation

Posted on May 16, 2023 by Diana Rankin

In my morning meditation, I begin with a prayer, first of gratitude—a thanksgiving for life and all that has been given to me—and then I ask for healing, for myself and for everyone who has asked me to include them on my healing energy prayer list.  Then I ask for healing for our world and all who inhabit Earth. I give thanks for my perfect healing and the perfect healing of each person as I speak his or her name aloud. Then I give thanks for the healing of the anger and fear that is hurting the country I live in and all who inhabit Earth.

After my prayer, I begin a healing chant. A deep breath in, and on the out breath, in a voice so full it reverberates through my every cell and out into the universe, an Ohm. I chant until the chant is chanting me, and my body as I know it disappears as I become a thousand tiny dots of lights, spiraling and dancing and moving about. Rearranging energy, realigning cells in a healthy pattern—healing.

I feel my breath moving in and out of my body and beyond and I become aware of these pin points of light moving and intermingling with all those whose names I have spoken and somewhere within me I know, I know the Divine Light that I am heals all as I heal and touch all that is our world as the Divine Light of God permeates and passes through me to all sentient beings and into our world and out from our planet into the universe.

I continue to sit in stillness, watching this exchange of energy as these tiny specks of light move into me and through me and back out into the world. And then, without movement of my physical body, I see my forehead, at the sixth charka, the third eye, move into the flame of the candle that sits flickering on the altar in front of me. My entire body becomes part of the flame that becomes a light of dancing colors that move through the world of dancing, colorful light that is full of voice and music.

And then there is silence, a deep profound silence that echoes back on itself and I—I, the person, the one of tiny balls of light, the one of flame and light and voice and music, the one who prays and feels gratitude, the I that I am—ceases to exist.

I am the wind within stone—silent, without words or thoughts . . . or being. The I in I am is no longer. I am has become just am until even that disappears and there is . . . nothing . . . and in that nothingness there is everything . . . And then the silence as quiet as the wind within stone becomes the wind itself and I am transported by and transformed into the wind itself as I move without time or space into the I AM of all that is throughout eternity.

Then once again I become the I that I am.

My eyes open and I am born anew into this world I inhabit, this world in which I live and move and have my being, this world in which I speak and laugh and weep and sing. This world in which I love. And I am oh so grateful that I have left the known to travel the unknown that I might return to the known, rested, cleansed, prepared. And the day has begun.

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Piper’s Midnight Walk

Posted on May 16, 2023 by Diana Rankin

We went for a walk one night. It was really, really late. Past my bedtime. That’s okay. I’d rather go for a walk with Mom than sleep anyway.

We walked out to the meadow. It was really dark walking through the yard. It’s full of trees. We could see the moon on top of the trees. The moon was foggy. Clouds were wagging their tails and covering the moon.

The meadow was brighter. That’s ‘cause I barked at the moon. That made it move away from the clouds. Just for us. We could see all the way to the moon.

It was yellow and really big. And round. Like my ball. I could see the man who lives in the moon. I barked at him. He smiled at me. Mom smiled at me too. That made me feel good. Really, really good. I like to be smiled at. That means I’m a good girl.

There were stars in the sky. Sometimes they blinked at us. Sometimes they played with the clouds. I could hear them laughing. Mom could too but she had to listen harder. That’s ‘cause doggies can hear the stars better than humans. Mom’s a human. I’m a doggy.

One star ran and ran real fast across the sky. It almost ran across one whole side of the meadow. Guess it got tired because it didn’t make it all the way to the other side. I can though. Run from one side of the meadow to the other side. I would have beat that star to the other side, but it cheated. It started first and didn’t tell me.

That’s okay. The star has to run in the sky. I get to run on grass. That’s more fun ‘cause I can feel the grass on my feet. The star can only feel the sky. I like the grass better.

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Irish Queen Maeve and the Fairy

Posted on May 9, 2023 by Diana Rankin

In ancient times, there lived a great warrior queen, Maeve by name. It is said that she was a goddess before men made her a mere mortal. At least they gave her the title of queen. No one would have done less for it is said to be in her favor brings good fortune, but to be out of her favor . . . ah, that is unwise indeed. This I learned when I was foolish enough to think I could shortchange the queen.

It was on a bright day in Ireland when I began my two-mile hike up Knocknarea Mountain in County Sligo where it is said Queen Maeve stands upright in her mountaintop cairn. This I can believe. This enormous memorial measures about 60 yards across and more than 30 feet tall, all created by stone upon stone upon stone, crafting one huge mound of stones with a peak at the center and stones sloping down the circular sides.

Folklore says that when you visit this Iron-Age Queen, you take a stone to leave with her. This I did, but it was not a stone gathered with respect due this great queen. Rather it was a stone I picked up at the base of the mountain because I had not brought another with me. It was not out of lack of respect that I did not remember a stone, but out of lack of planning.

I had no intention of hiking up the mountainside. My companions and I planned only to stop by the site to look at the mountain and the distant grave on top. But our curiosity got the best of us, and we wondered what that great mound we could see only from a distance was like up close. Neither of my friends were up to the hike, so I was the one tasked to make the climb for the purpose of taking photographs so all could see the great cairn of Queen Maeve.

It was when I started up the mountain that I remembered I must take a stone to the queen, so I picked up one from the path, a path that was soon to fall away into a cow pasture and a rutted and rugged trail.

The steep, uphill climb and craggy terrain exhausted me. More than once, I thought of turning back, but would Queen Maeve have turned back. Absolutely not, not this Queen of Connacht. 

In legend, passed down from generation to generation, it is said that Maeve’s father, the high king of Ireland, gave her the province of Connacht in the West of Ireland. To rule such a wild and inhospitable, but breathtakingly beautiful land, took courage and fortitude indeed, both of which this queen had.  She also had a reputation for being a bit . . . shall we say competitive and always getting what she wanted.

As the story goes, Queen Maeve and her husband King Ailill had an argument about who was the wealthier. They compared all their riches—coin to coin, cow to cow, jewel to jewel, land to land, slave to slave, castle to castle and so on until it came to one last animal—a bull, a magical bull at that. It seems that the king had a bull that Queen Maeve could not match. What’s a queen to do, especially a queen like this one?

She sent out searchers to all of Ireland to find a bull, one better than that of the king’s. She was soon to learn of such a bull in Ulster, but the bull was not for sale or even for loan to the great queen. But Queen Maeve wanted the bull, and this was a queen that mere mortal men did not deny. So, the queen went to war with Ulster to win the bull.

Now this lady did not go to war on the back of a horse in the traditional way of a Celtic warrior queen. This queen did not want to soil her royal white robes or their gold trimming. No horseback riding for Queen Maeve when she went into battle. Instead, she rode in an open car with four chariots around her—one before her, one behind her, and one on each side.

It is said she captured the Ulster bull and took him back to Connacht. But two bulls in the same land will never do, and this was no exception. The Ulster bull fought the king’s bull and killed it before finding his way back to Ulster. And once again Queen Maeve and her husband the king were equal in all their riches.

As you have come to learn, Queen Maeve was not a queen to be taken lightly, which I did not do. Yet, I foolishly believed the stone I brought from the base of the mountain would satisfy her. Little did I know as I continued to put one foot in front of the other, over and over, huffing and puffing up the side of the mountain that I had something much more valuable that this queen would seize from me. A treasured stone I had not brought to her, but a treasure she demanded. A treasure she would take from me.

Many years before, in one of the first workshops I gave on my sacred land, one of the participants traveled from Arizona to Ohio to attend. It was she who gave me a fairy with a sparkling jeweled skirt. This lovely fairy floated around my neck on a silver chain for many a year. She was a favorite of mine, and I cherished her.

The wise ones of old warn us that the gods and goddesses often become jealous of our deepest loves. The same could be said of Queen Maeve for when I returned to the base of the mountain and began to shed my coat I found only the chain around my neck, but without the jeweled fairy.

Queen Maeve had claimed my fairy. Favorite fairy though it was of mine, I had to let her go and petition Queen Maeve to treat her kindly as a favorite and beloved fairy who once lived with me.  I like to believe the fairy had a choice in this, that she was not taken from my neck without her will, but instead that she flew away to serve the great Queen Maeve, goddess that she is.

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Piper’s Favorite Games

Posted on May 9, 2023 by Diana Rankin

We play lots of games. I like games.

Sometimes Mom and I play a game called hide-and-seek. It’s a game 2-legged kids play. And Mom and me. When we play the game outside, Mom hides behind a tree when I’m not looking. Then I have to find her. I always do. Sometimes she hides at the other end of the meadow. I still find her.

When we play inside, she hides in a corner. She thinks I can’t find her. I always find her. When I find her she pets me and tells me how smart I am. I am.

We also play a game with my leash. Every day we walk down the lane to get the mail. It’s a really, really long lane. I’m allowed to run ahead, but I have to stop before I get to the end. The road’s at the end. I’m not allowed to cross the road by myself. The road is dangerous. That’s ‘cause sometimes a car goes by. And sometimes a big, big truck goes by. They’re really scary. They make lots of noise.

Before we cross the road, Mom puts my leash on me. Then we walk across the road together. When we cross the road again and come back to the lane, my leash jumps out of Mom’s hand. That’s when I have to rescue it and carry it all the way down the lane and back to the house.

I run all the way down the lane with my leash. Sometimes I drop it and scold it because it jumps out of my mouth just like it jumps out of Mom’s hand. That’s how the leash plays with me. It jumps out of my mouth. I like to play with my leash. It’s a fun game.

Another game we play is ball. That’s really fun. Mom throws the ball. I have to run and catch it. Whenever anyone comes to visit, they have to throw the ball for me. Ball is my favorite game. Maybe that’s why sometimes I get fooled. Mom pretends to throw the ball. I run and run to catch it. But I can never find it. That’s when I run back to Mom and scold her. She tricked me. That’s not nice.

Still I get to run after the ball. Even it there is no ball. I guess that’s a different game. And that game’s fun too.

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