Love is a Verb

© 2015 Oona McOuat

I still love this song and the kids I created it with.  If you are receiving this by email and a video does not appear below, please read this post here:  (And thank you for subscribing!)  The video below was edited by then 9-year-old Kasper Packford and the music was performed entirely by children from across the globe.

Sweet, eh?  So, how then do we spread the Love?

Creating a just and loving world is easier than we think. It begins with connecting with the magnanimous and awe-inspiring natural world around us….

Photo by Leigh Hilbert

… and by appreciating the simple blessings of each day – breath, body, light, moon, ….  It begins with opening our hearts. (Explore some techniques for doing this here.)

Our own well-being is intrinsically linked to the well-being of the world around us, and cultivating joy is key to making the world a better place. But we cannot be so obsessed with our own happiness that we forget that we are one.

Photo by Leigh Hilbert

Spontaneous hugs, random acts of kindness, tender and truthful words, voluntary simplicity, and conscious, grassroots community action – these are the kinds of things that are healing us as a people and a planet.

May you feel the Love today, and all-ways,

Happy Valentines Day!

Sacred Seeds

© 2015 Oona McOuat

I just read an amazing novel about seeds: “All of Creation” by Ruth Ozeki.  It navigates the world of bio-engineering and genetic modification, and the race by multinationals to control seeds. Mostly though, it spoke to me of the miracle of getting your hands in the rich brown earth and planting a tiny something, and then watching it transform into something else.

"Whatever happens to seed affects the web of life." 
—Vandana Shiva

Seed Mandala

Photo by Ana Castilho

For me, this past year has been all about seeds - literally and metaphysically.  What a privilege it has been to steward our garden, to learn how to listen to the voice of each plant, and to witness how a tiny seed, which contains all of life, and a specific life, both surrenders and gets down to business at the same time.

Photo by Deanna Holbova

"A seed is small but rich with possibility, like love, which is as humble as it is powerful."
—Pir Zia Inayat-Khan
from "The Seed of Love"

At Imbolc, February 2nd, the  Halfway-to-the-Beginning-of-Spring-Day, we choose the seeds we want to plant.  At a time on our planet when the pace is fast and our days are full, yet the need for balance and healing is great, we must choose carefully, judiciously.  And so, on this Imbolc Eve, I invite you to reflect on what you want for yourself and the world.   May you sense the stirring of the secret seeds within you.  May those seeds that will bring forth the highest good for all of creation germinate and flourish, nurtured and nourished by the unseen magic of the elements.  Everything starts with a precious little seed - an intention, a thought, a dream-before-form.

Photo by Ana Castilho

"The seed holds a very great secret—it never gets old. It is the eternal YES to life."

—Anat Vaughan-Lee

from "The Language of the Seed"

Let’s take a moment now to celebrate the golden – fire flickering, sun reflecting, moon beaming, heart shimmering, and then let’s dive down for one last visit to the Dolphins’ Dreamtime.  When you emerge, may you be refreshed and connected to Deep Self, the part of you that knows when, and what, and how to plant:  earth wisdom rooted in your body, connecting you to everything.

Thanks Leigh Hilbert for making this wonderful three minute video of me swimming with my Beloved Friends.  Don't forget to turn up your audio for sonic bliss!

Into the Deep

© 2015 Oona McOuat

An unexpected journey, and I am travelling to a watery retreat, camped on the beach with no WIFI, internet, cell phone service, or electricity – just yoga, rest, reading, warmth, plenty of dolphins, and a grateful heart.

Photos by Leigh Hilbert

Dive with me into the deep – into cool, salty, shifting shades of blue and grey and green. 

Photo by Leigh Hilbert

Here, there is no separation between voice and body, sound and essence.  Time falls away.  Moments are marked by breath – the percussive puff of exhalation, dorsal fins surfacing, shared air.  

Photos by Leigh Hilbert

Below, a lucid dream:  the graceful legato of swimming sleep; the noisy swirl of playful chaos - leaf games, leaping games, cuddling, peace.

Photos by Leigh Hilbert

Embryonic, beyond words, squeaks and clicks and siren song...  No need for translation. Communion, sacred and simple, awakening primordial self.

Photo by Leigh Hilbert

Back on land, reflecting. How to remain in watery oneness while weighted by gravity’s pull?

Photo by Leigh Hilbert

Fall into the breath,

tidal movement of belly and back.

Heart radiant and shimmering,

giving and receiving,

Lover and Beloved

floating on a pool of light.

Eternity enfolding,

embracing, releasing,  

merging,

Into the deep.

Photo by Leigh Hilbert

Deep peace of the running wave to you,
Deep peace of the flowing air to you,
Deep peace of the quiet earth to you,
Deep peace, deep peace.

 From The Dominion of Dreams: Under The Dark Star by Fiona MacLeod     (1895)

Photo by Leigh Hilbert

See or purchase Leigh's beautiful images here.

When I Am Silent

© 2014 Oona McOuat

When I am silent, I fall into the place where everything is music. -Rumi-

A stolen hour; an empty page.  A lone swan swims across a winter lake.  And I breathe, just breathe, and give thanks for this moment.

Photo by Gemaskerde-Muchaco

It has been a year since my last message.  A year of tilling soil and planting seeds, of learning how to conserve an abundant harvest, of stepping away from the stage and into the heart.   Along the way, I have met the wisest and the woolliest aspects of my nature.  I have learned that when I feel riled up or stressed, the best I can do is breathe, just breathe, and reach beyond the story I have mistaken for truth, the story separating me from Self. 

   Photo by Leigh Hilbert

At the same time, I love stories that I know are stories.  I love the language of music and its power to transport and transform.  Yet, I am hungering for new stories, for words that gently and bravely guide our way home.  

My truest sense of music this past year came to me at Samhain - Halloween - as I played and sang for a dying friend.  As I let myself give way, I fell outside of form.  How I love that spiralling, soaring place of light and dancing shadow that music becomes when I breathe, just breathe, and let my essence flow.

Photo by Leigh Hilbert

We fill these days before the winter solstice with cookies and carols, with cards, and Christmas movies.  It only takes a moment to step beneath the bustle, and breathe, just breathe, into the stillness of the dark.

Photo by Leigh Hilbert

Last night the Star appeared in a clear, cold sky.  Bright and beckoning, sparkling with knowing, it reminded me that this Mass of Christ is a celebration of the birth of a great teacher, who – like so many other wise ones before and since – believed in the powerful potential we have to live in peace on earth with joy in our hearts.  How simple and complex is their message: “Peace is here, peace is now; it lives within each one of us...”  And as I rush to the post office to mail packages and start to feel snappy and stretched, I remind myself to breathe, just breathe, and be fully in this moment.

Photo by Leigh Hilbert

May the light returning bring you joy, may the new year bring you beauty, and may we all remember, moment by moment, the Love that we are.

 

If you too enjoy song & story, have a listen to December Song.

With Bright Blessings,

Oona

Choosing the Empty Cup

© 2011 Oona McOuat

Sometimes choosing emptiness is the fullest of experiences.

  

I ended the summer camping alone on a dolphin-studded beach in Hawaii.  Was I fortunate?  Yes.  Was I hoping the dolphins would want to play and interact? Yes.  But primarily I was there for what the beach didn’t have.   No electricity, wireless, or cell phone service.  No twitter, texting, or TV.  No “to do” lists, no deadlines, and no one who knew me or expected me to talk.  After a busy and stressful year, I was worn so thin, burnout was just one small blown fuse away.  And so, the beach became a beacon, beckoning me to stop fanning the flame and pushing the river, and start diving into the vastness of open, unplanned space.

Photo by Leigh Hilbert

I arrived on a Monday.   Too tired to think about cooking, I ate my leftover lunch for dinner and fell into bed while it was still light out, sometime around 7:00pm.  The next morning I awoke with no agenda other than doing yoga on the beach.  By 10:30am it seemed like midnight, and I wondered how I was going to survive a week of slow-moving open time - life without agenda, obligation, or distraction.  I felt like a dolphin out of water, and then I looked up and saw the dolphins cruising into the bay. 

As I swam out, I was greeted by a mother and her brand new baby.  The wee one was so young it still had its umbilical cord! It was barely over two feet long – the tiniest dolphin I have ever seen, a squirmy, excited bundle of delight.  I coined it “Squiggly” and as it wiggled across and into my heart, I fell into a wordless place.  I was enfolded by the deep spaciousness of ocean communion where clarity comes in swirls and sensations, where peace and timelessness enfold my body, where I am everything and nothing – an answer that forgets the question, a haven that no longer seeks home.

Photo by Leigh Hilbert

The days felt into an easy, natural rhythm – do yoga, swim, walk, eat, sleep.  The only rule I had was that I could not drive my car or leave the beach.  The only book I had was a much-loved text “Anam Cara – A Book of Celtic Wisdom” by Irish poet, philosopher and priest, John O’Donohue.  As I merged with the deep joy and breath-filled beauty of the dolphins, I revisited the home of my ancestors. 

How could it be 10 years since the day I first held this book, sitting in my solitary thatched cottage in County Donegal, Ireland, taking breaks from the novel I was writing as I wandered the countryside in search of blackberries and faeries?

Here, in a very different sort of retreat, I let O’Donohue take me to the Circle of Belonging, the power and presence that foster true connection between two people.  I let him remind me once again to “whisper awake the deep well of love within”.  When we allow this nourishing stream of belonging, of ease, peace and delight to move through us, the ground that has hardened within us grows soft again. “Solitude is luminous,” he says, and to grow is to change.   Death is with us always, and teaches us, eternally, about letting go.  As we let go, “a greater generosity, openness and breath comes into our lives.” Where there is no space, the eternal cannot waken.

Photo by Leigh Hilbert

Being here, in a body, with a whole world within and around us to explore is an immense privilege, and it is incredible how often I get numb and shortsighted and forget the miracle of living.  Today, here is Salt Spring, a small island in the Pacific Northwest with the sweet earthy smell of baking squash filling my cottage, and apple-laden branches and turning leaves outside my window.  Social reality (and social networking reality) can deaden and numb us so that the mysterious wonder of our lives goes unnoticed.  Daily I remind myself to fully touch and be touched, to taste, look, listen, commune; to love largely and unabashedly, to celebrate the beauty of this body and this Earth.  

Photo by Kmax

We are alive. We are wildly and deliciously free. Let’s live as if we have eternity in our cups, and an hourglass that it is held in divine hands inside our hearts. We do not know when this particular earth walk will be over. We only know that we are here.

Some nights stay up til dawn as the moon sometimes does

for the sun.

Be a full bucket, pulled up the dark way of a well then

lifted out into the light.

Something opens up our wings, something makes boredom

and hurt disappear

Someone fills the cup in front of us, we taste only

sweetness.

   -Rumi

Blessed Be

Oona

On Kindness

© 2010 Oona McOuat

I spent the last half of my summer learning about kindness.  It all started with a sheep and an act of compassion.  When I stumbled upon an ewe in the woods with poky barbed wire wrapped around her hoof and neck I was concerned she was going to choke, and so I carefullly unwrapped her, speaking in soothing tones, until she looked at me with wild eyes and abruptly jerked away, taking my outstretched arm with her.  A torn rhomboid muscle, six weeks of pain and several cancelled concerts ensued.  Bad luck, Oona, you might think.  But no, this sudden free time allowed me the opportunity to take a spontaneous, unexpected exploration into the realm of kindness.

Photo by Stocks Photographs

I travelled to Sardinia and Tuscany because a ticket into Rome and out of Barcelona was the cheapest trip to Europe I could find.  I decided to join an online community of “couchsurfers” and see if I could find some folks with similar interests to host me during my stay.  Yes, the thought of staying in strangers’ spare rooms for four weeks was daunting, but the thought of staying alone at hotels was uninviting and would cost more than I could afford.  And so, I set off on a journey of total trust, at first uncertain of how I should respond to these people who were housing and often feeding and driving me around.  Offer to pay them something?  When they said no, sneak money into their sock drawers?  Wax on about how much their generosity was appreciated?  It soon became clear I had entered a whole new level in the game of giving and receiving.  While my hosts were taking care of my daily needs, my job was to be as present as possible to theirs, to be a witness to their lives, and to learn about their country, their culture and them by being open to exchange.  This did not mean giving up my own needs for privacy or individual exploration.  It was simply a call to be fully engaged when I was in their presence. 

As my heart was blown open again and again by the simple, down to earth, amazing, out of this world generosity that was repeatedly showered upon me, I became simultaneously aware of both my worth and the incredible worth of everyone I met.  “People are good”, I began to mutter like a mantra, or people thrive when goodness is present.  Maybe I was just happily, fortunately, embraced in an Italian bubble of perfect pasta al a dente, sweet red wine, golden Tuscan light streaming, and cultural kindness.  But I don’t think so.  I began to suspect that when given the opportunity most people will choose positive co-created experiences over neutral self-satisfying ones.  Most of us love to sit at a long table with old friends and new, sharing food, laughter, conversation and music.  Deep in our hearts, we long to be acknowledged, received, and to know we belong to the earth and one another.

I have returned to autumn’s gold and descending darkness, into the bittersweet reminder of our own mortality and I think – all I really have to give is kindness.  It begins with myself, listening to my needs, laughing at my foibles, responding to my longings, expressing my voice, and yet I am a member of the human community and if at times I feel isolated that is only because I am forgetting to reach out to others.  And the best way to do this is to give – not because I hope or need to receive in return (although it seems that once we enter the circle of giving and receiving our giving is reciprocated, if not always from the same source) – but because being present to other’s needs affirms our communal aliveness.  Every act of kindness we offer flows into the pool of goodness that we can all draw on when the days seem too dark, the politicians too screwy, the world on the brink of collapse.

photo by Tomas Hellberg

My battery is charged with kindness, I feel it like an effervescent shimmer moving through my body, up to my heart where it transforms into joy.  A part of me wonders if kindness is easier when the days are warm and glowing, the sun golden, and the gardens full, but I figure it will pare itself down to a bare boned sort of kindness as the trees lose their leaves and become skeletons scraping the winter sky.  It will become about generating an inner warmth and helping others do the same.  It will be about acknowledging loss, despair, abuse, and listening to pain, about letting tears flow into an inner ocean, sun-kissed, beckoning and blue, that will hold if I need to float upon a reservoir of beauty.

Photo by Kmax

As I commit to kindness, my life is overflowing.  A friend mends my quilt and two others drop by bags of goodness from their gardens - pungent basil, sunny calendula flowers and crisp heritage beans that look like skinny purple Holsteins.  A stranger lends me her food dryer and I make jars of dried pears – chewy bits of summer’s sweetness to savour as the darkness comes.  Baxter, a wonderful journalist I have never met who lives in the Philippines, writes more about me on his well-loved Celtic music blog (read this for a concrete update on my career celticmusicfan.wordpress.com/2010/09/23/oona-mcouat-thoughts-from-burgoyne-bay/).  The owner of a small record label in Washington State offers to help me get radio play, west coast gigs and possible licensing deals for my music for film and TV.  For now this is a “friendship deal” he says because he is doing this work for other artists anyway and he likes what I do and I am unable to do it all myself.  A wonderful, well-respected Canadian music manager offers to review my material and possibly help me get represented at WOMAD, the big world music conference held in Europe next month, again out of kindness and a spirit of giving.  I figure that after I thank these men for their support, all I can do is take the sense of being cared for that their loving attention generates and “pay it forward,”  allowing it to keep creating more goodness in the world. For as simple as it sounds, I think this is our only hope now, the only way we are going to weave days that are lovely and full, as well as a world that is socially, environmentally and economically balanced and whole.  Moment by moment, breath by breath, word by word, and action by action, the power to transform the very real neglect, greed, denial, selfishness and destruction rests in our voices, our hearts and our hands.

Photo by Kmax

If you are in the northern hemisphere, I wish you a gentle transition from the fullness of harvest to the stillness of dreams and rest.  Jump on a pile of ochre leaves, carve a pumpkin, eat an apple, be kind to yourself, to the earth and to others; know you are love and you are loved.

Blessed Be,

Oona