The Energizer Bunny Learns the Rhythm of Nature (Part 1)

The Rhythm of Nature

strides as the turtle

who wins a race

he doesn’t know he’s in

 

Ever evolving,

neither static, nor constant

 yet slowly progressing

beats the rhythm of Nature

 

Even when we see not

the burbling beneath the volcano

the plates shifting into an earthquake

the atmosphere transforming into a tornado

the waves building to a tsunami

 

Even then, even when we see not the signs,

the Rhythm of Nature is ever evolving

neither static, nor constant

 yet slowly progressing

             I was trained not to stride to the rhythm of nature, but to the drum of the Energizer Bunny, that mascot toy for the battery that keeps “going and going and going” and, even after everyone else’s batteries are dead, is “still going.”  My mother is wired like the Energizer Bunny, and by some genetic quirk, I am not.  Vacations were full, as Mom booked each hotel with a “guaranteed late arrival” and even planned in which rest stops we’d take for our picnic lunches.  Her errands at home, however, were not planned and seemed to follow a random order, defying geographic logic, zigzagging out of the way, and then returning to previous stores that had deals three dollars better than the later stores.  Like all of the competitor bunnies in the Energizer ads, I, her tag-a-long had batteries that died part-way through, but hers were “still going.”  Thinking I should be wired – or “batteried” -- like her, once I had hit my wall, Mom had one of two replies: “Quit whining” or “The world doesn’t revolve around you.” 

            In time, I gained the endurance to quit whining and eventually grew into an Energizer Bunny myself.  Early in our marriage, my then husband teased me for my to do lists that also kept going and going and going.  I had a love-hate relationship with these lists; part of me longed for days with short lists, but the other part reveled in those days when I crossed out a multitude of items on a long one.

            By the time little ones arrived, my love-hate relationship with the lists turned to a hate-only relationship.  One sheet was no longer enough for all that I had to do; multiple sheets were filled, and included only what needed to be done at home; at work, I had another list.  My anxiety grew with the lists.  My chest, neck, and face flushed with a pinkish glow; my heart rate beat fast; my nights were endlessly sleepless, with a cherished hour or two of sleep.  My doctor prescribed me with Prozac.

The lists had to go, and so too did the Energizer Bunny still in me.  In 2005, while juggling a toddler, a preschooler, and a teaching position, I decided to pray every day of the year for a quiet and gentle spirit, and miracles came that began the process to loosen, layer by layer, that Bunny that didn’t belong in me.  Still, for years, vestiges of this battery remained, insisting that I keep going and going and going.

 My body knew what really needed to go were the batteries and that the rhythm of nature needed to come.  What my body might have known, I did not.  Having already been greatly healed, I didn’t know quite how much of this Bunny still beat its drum within me.

             Then came the pandemic.  “Stay at home.  Save lives.”  This was no time for an Energizer Bunny.  Even Mom learned to slow down.  The word Blursday was coined, time felt different, and the process in me was reignited to discard more of the conditioned Bunny within me.  Part of me rebelled; I got out more than most of my friends, but I also acquiesced to begin to learn the Way of Zen.  To my blog and my social media page, I posted this meme with my intent to learn this Way of Zen. 

        

         The Way of Zen is hard for an Energizer Bunny to learn.  In the summer of 2020, we had begun to “flatten the curve,” and we were all getting out more. Feeling I had had my zen, I was eager to get out. My inner Bunny was relieved.

Then came the wildfires, 1800 of them raging throughout the western states.  Our masks returned, we once again retreated indoors, and even more of the Bunny in me was called upon to let go.

             The West burning in flames mirrored my life, as both my marriage and my career also ignited with burning embers.  My husband and I were compatible for projects and parenting, but not for love-making, nor for my soul’s transformation.  He met someone else with whom he shared the right mix of love elements to maintain a thriving marriage.  The following year, after months of marriage counseling and a trial separation, we chose to close our marriage with friendship, which still continues. 

Meanwhile, the university where I taught as a non-tenured track (second-class) faculty member was grappling with a severe budget crisis and turned my employment ladder upside down.  Instead of downsizing and laying off those on the bottom rungs of my ladder, they transferred assignments from many of us like me who had earned the highest promotions to our lower paid colleagues at the bottom of the ladder.  I was eventually downsized all the way, and given with notice, citing a loophole, that I was to be laid off.  But I found a loophole of my own: Emeritus, the university’s honored form of retirement.  My promotions and 23 years of service qualified me to apply.  I did, and I got it, but I was also too young to actually retire. 

The anxiety, tight chest, rapid heart beat, and insomnia returned.  It was the summer of 2021, and I was now both separated from my husband and without work, a financial double-whammy.  I had put out applications, had interviews, and even had completed new hire paperwork, a month earlier, but still had not yet been called with a start date.  The Bunny in me begged to make phone calls and put out more applications.  But the whispers and synchronicities encouraged me to wait.  It will come in its own time.  And it did. 

But first, I had to wait and learn the rhythm of nature.  It was then that I decided to hire myself for the landscaping project to the side of our house that had been itching at me for four years.  Roughly 40 feet long by 14 feet wide, this plot had previously housed two vegetable gardens and a play sand pit, each bordered with bricks and stones.  But our kids had grown; the gardens had been left to waste; the bricks and patio stones were broken, scattered, and buried; what amounted to seven 20 gallon tubs of stones to be collected that were then also mostly buried; and weeds, many thigh high, had taken over the entire plot. 

Since the plot is right outside my bedroom window, every morning when I opened the shades, this disaster welcomed my day, and then it presented itself to me again in the evening at my favorite outdoor spot, also immediately adjacent to it, our hammock. 

For the plot’s neglect, I mostly blame the wildfires, of which we had already had three since 2012 even before the 2020 fires.  While one came as close as three miles, most were further away, but we live in a valley, where the smoke from all of the neighboring fires comes to settle itself as an unwelcome guest for weeks of choking, hazardous air.  How does one care for vegetable gardens in the likelihood of such toxic air?  To those who do, bless you.  By 2018, after the third set of fires, I was done.  With some help from my then husband, I began to clear out the plot of weeds, bricks, and stones and hoped to clear enough to hire a professional landscaper to build a stone patio, for which I was also saving money. 

In the summer of 2021, I needed peace at my window and on my hammock.  And between jobs, I needed that savings for the landscaping.  Why not use the stones and bricks I was collecting and hire myself?  

Continue to Part 2

© 2023 by Karina Jacobson.  All rights reserved.  Please use only with permission from the author.

Cocoons and Koans through the Pandemic

            As noted in TheWay of Zen through the Pandemic, my perspective on our moment is unique.  For one, it fits into the consciousness shift I’ve been mulling over.  Realize we are offered many “shifts” or “cocoons” for metamorphosis, not just one; however, this moment when each of us is in our own cocoon is special.

            Our pandemic did not begin easy for me, but now with my family all safely at home, I’ve been calling my own time in it “Zen-ing,” apt not only for my solitary meditation, but also for what the Zen masters often did: puzzle over a koan.  Our pandemic is a koan within a koan within a koan, and the deeper we enter into each koan, the more koans we discover.

            Meanwhile, our pandemic may be collective, but our experience with it is not.  This morning, I made a momentary hop onto social media to post this:

I introduced it with this: “What’s more is that each hurricane also looks and feels different and is stirred up by a different cause.”

The purpose of this post is not to explore the storms, but before I continue, I wish to affirm that we each have one or more, to varying degrees, and the source of our own storm may come directly from the pandemic or indirectly from the collective response to it.  Among the many koans of our pandemic is this one: the storm many people are facing is creating a different storm for many others.  Consider, for example, those who, even before the pandemic, were already victims of domestic violence.  While we may practice our freedom of speech to our authorities, I hope we can free our fellow citizens to face their own storm in their own way.

            The meme that opens this post is now going viral for two reasons: (1) our planet is in a collective cocoon moment right now and (2) it expresses the emerging value of evolution and transcendence.  The butterfly is encouraging the caterpillar to become like him.

The storm we are each in, whatever it may be for each of us, is the Test of the Cocoon.  Cocoons are hardly secure; they’re like crucibles.  For the creature that begins as a caterpillar and finishes as a butterfly, the creature’s greatest moment of suffering and his greatest test is in the cocoon.  His greatest triumph is also when he emerges as a butterfly.

            Tragically, some are likely to get pounded by the cocoon and emerge as very wounded caterpillars, very understandably so.  How might each of us emerge?  Will we come out triumphant as butterflies?

            We can consider our transition from Pisces to Aquarius as a framework for this metamorphosis, and those of you who are drawn to the shift of the Ages are welcome to read it this way.  If you are not, simply take these as metaphors and as a framework to consider our evolving paradigms.  I’m using the Ages not only because many are witnessing this transition, but also because their symbols are so fitting to describe the distinctions of our current, older consciousness with the emerging one, led by the remarkable discoveries of Quantum Physics and Quantum Mechanics.

            Let’s start with Pisces and its symbol:

            Notice we have a perfect duality: two fish swimming against each other in the turbulence of water.  Conflict.  In every spiritual tradition, water represents danger, emotion, and turbulence.  When you add two fish swimming against each other in that turbulence, you have the scariest Age of them all. 

This is why in Pisces, we “focus on the family” and vow to our partners to stay together “till death do us part.”  In Pisces, the only way we humans can survive is to establish ourselves into a stable home.  Pisces is so turbulent that some cannot even do this; however, many can at least survive their incarnation into Pisces if, at least, they can establish stability for themselves in their home.  Most people, therefore, when they are pre-planning their lives in that pre-incarnation time (see Michael Newton), will plan into their lives the chance to meet their “truest love” in their youth, ensuring they marry the “right” “one.”  And in Pisces, a single “right” “one” is possible.  In Aquarius, an Age that values evolution and movement from caterpillars to butterflies, just one “right one” will be unlikely.  There may instead be one “right one” for each phase between cocoons.  But that’s for another post.

For now, we’ll return to the Pandemic and move to our Piscean Posterchild, Dr. Fauci.  Fauci wins this prize not because his face coincidentally looks like a fish, but because of his sober authority look: “I’ve got this.  Listen to me.”  Notice how he cocks his head up, and his eyes, serious and direct; his jaws, firm and set; and his fixed head and face, stoic, rarely moving – an ideal Piscean authority figure.  In Pisces, this is exactly what draws us to an authority; we trust unwavering stoicism because we think that will help us survive our turbulence.

He also holds the skill to both terrify us and comfort us at once.  In Pisces, we are drawn to terror, but we long for comfort.  And he does both: his somber, serious summaries are complemented with his comforting words that if we follow his advice, we’ll make it through.

Finally, notice how he exudes scientific authority with his numbers and his expertise, while presenting an objective middle ground.  “Perhaps if . . .” he’ll begin, giving us a glimmer of hope; “however, . . .” he’ll continue with his cautious warning. 

Fauci’s seeming objectivity gives us a koan within a koan.  Catch what he does not include: (a) critical advice for what we need to do to boost our immune system and (b) a genuine scientific interpretation of the data.  Regarding our immune system, I not only marveled about this omission of health authorities in my first pandemic post, I cited five journal articles pointing to the very well-established science of the most critical factors to boost our immune system: positive mental health, lowstress, exercise, sunshine, and, also from the sun, Vitamin D.  The experts the media is citing, led by our Piscean Posterchild, are not only not telling us the most important things we can do to protect ourselves against a virus, they are encouraging the systematic removal of these very essentials. 

A genuine scientific examination of the data would admit the full picture and any critical context, such as the country with the highest mortality rate from the plain old common flu, at an astonishing 9%: Italy.  We don’t hear that; we just hear “we’d better not go the way of Italy” in this pandemic.  We also don’t hear that the percentage of severe cases among “confirmed cases” is a scientifically invalid number.  Confirmed cases need tests; tests are in short supply; tests are being rationed for sicker people; therefore, the percentage of severe cases among those “confirmed” is bloated.  The experts all know the number is invalid, and they admit it when they’re pressed on it, but they don’t say so in their speeches.

Quite a few objective physicians are speaking of the full picture, but the media is not quoting them; in fact some physicians with strong credentials with evident objectivity get censored (when so much blatant, unsubstantiated reported remains available).  [Update on 5/22: 600 doctors have sent a letter to Pres. Trump to report the lockdown is causing a more severe health crisis than the virus itself.]  Still, part of the cocoon’s purpose is to give us a koan to shake us up, to think fresh and outside the box, and prepare us for metamorphosis.  Therefore, a few oddities to the official story are necessary, including – how dare I?! – an analysis of Fauci.  Friends, Fauci is just a koan within a koan within a koan.  That’s all.  And if we’re going to emerge as butterflies, we need to contemplate some koans.

            Now let’s say we collectively do this and enter into Aquarius about a century early.  How might we, in our new consciousness, respond to our next pandemic?  Good news, friends: in Aquarius, we will not be freaking out. 

Let’s now examine the symbol for Aquarius.

            Aquarius is the “Water-bearer” and it is an Age of Air.  In light of Pisces, two fish swimming in the turbulence of water against each other, consider the power of the Water-bearer Air sign.  The Water-bearer is not driven by fear within the turbulence of water.  Instead, he wields power over water.  The story of Jesus walking on water is a perfect image of Aquarius.  He represents Christ consciousness of Aquarius serving Pisces at the start of the Age of Pisces – and, therefore, amusingly, he often asks aloud, “How long must I put up with this generation?"

            For the past year, I’ve been mulling over a great many distinctions between the current consciousness and the coming one, and everything is implicated.  Once we shift, so our will our educational systems, our political systems, our religious systems, our families and relationships, and, most certainly, our sciences.  For the health sciences, consider this distinction:

            Pisces: Everything is matter.  Matter is fixed.  Our health is determined by our genes, and these are fixed.  Sickness is determined by bacteria and viruses, and these are also fixed.  Therefore, even the well-established science of our immune system is left unspoken during a health crisis in a Piscean paradigm.

            Aquarius: Everything is energy.  Energy moves, evolves, and transforms.  Our health is determined by a combination of energetic forces in and around our bodies. Everything that enters into or touches our body, and even our very genes themselves, are malleable. Therefore, the already well-established science of our immune system is embraced and, during a health crisis, at the forefront of every dialogue.  (Of course, discussion of what to do on behalf of those without strong immune systems will also be discussed, but, importantly, methods to boost our immune systems will be key in a more holistic, complete set of discussions and decision-making policies.)

            This “Aquarian” way of scientific thinking is led by the twin yet competing disciplines of Quantum Physics and Quantum Mechanics, sciences a century old, but too weird, too un-Piscean, for our textbooks.  However, some sciences are building upon these, such as the newest science of health, Epigenetics. (If you’re ambitious and would like to better understand it, review the explanation by the British Society for Cell Biology).

            So what might a more Aquarian doctor say about this virus and pandemic?  My own go-to is one of the leading forerunners of Epigentics, Dr. Bruce Lipton (CurriculumVitae).  While at Stanford University in the 1980s and ‘90s, Dr. Lipton fell upon an astounding discovery: our genes can be flipped on or off by our cell membrane.  For a brief explanation, review paragraphs 9-12 of this Independent article.  Or, in a video from years ago, watch Dr. Lipton explain how viruses work and how to keep yourself healthy.

            Just like the quantum sciences that led to its development, Epigenetics will likely will not take off until Aquarius, since it challenges the material paradigm of Pisces.  However, in the emerging consciousness, any science that acknowledges that everything is energy will be embraced. 

As we close, we’ll reaffirm that we are in the crucible of the cocoon right now, and for many, a hurricane rages all around with no clear path for how to make it out safely.  Once emergence does happen, much time will be necessary for many to discover a new life.  May we each persevere through our individual cocoons in strength, health, and hope. May our time at home, away from the World’s Materialism, be like the cocoon we need to give us the chance to reflect, learn, self-empower, contemplate some koans, think for ourselves, and emerge out of our cocoons into flight as butterflies.

Other pandemic posts:

Whispers of Mystery through the Pandmic
The Way of Zen through the Pandemic

© 2020 by karina.  All rights reserved.  Please use with permission or a citation that links to this blog.

The Way of Zen through the Pandemic

A week ago, I shared with my social media friends my choice to couple "stay at home" with a social media fast.  Of course, I am still here blogging, and I'll keep doing so through this pandemic.  My own perspectives on the pandemic differ from just about everyone I know.  Most are in fear over the health crisis; I am not.  Some are cynically critical of the media's narrative; I agree, but see a higher purpose. Some are afraid of its apocalyptic overtones; I am not. Some are scorning the president; some are praising him.  I am doing neither at this time; he's trying to look at the bigger picture, but, as always, he remains entirely incompetent for his position.  Some are hanging on the words of a traditional health expert who happens to be in an important position right now, Dr. Fauci; I do not; I listen to Dr. Bruce Lipton and others with a newer, more holistic approach to health.  (These two medical researchers will be discussed in my next post.)  Finally, most are distressed for what the future holds after this pandemic has passed; for those of us willing to learn from it, I am hopeful.

For now, enjoy the tidbit I shared with my social media friends and the Way of Zen poem to complement it:

"A post is circulating that Christianity isn't able right now to speak to the pandemic; I disagree. However, eastern spiritual wisdom really does. I was led to Lao Tsu and others in the second half of 2019, possibly in preparation for this moment. After the work the Spirit led me into last week, I am really ready now to soak in "stay at home" with inspiring texts, my own writing, and bonding with my family. So I will complement that with a social media break for a while. . . .  Something beautiful will come out of our current hardship, my friends, as we enter our hiding places, reflect on what really matters, discover how important our relationships are, and learn to build a better planet. Meanwhile, to all and to your health, strength, and peace."

Other Pandemic Posts:
Whispers of Mystery through the Pandemic

Cocoons and Koans