Tag Archives: god

The Answer to the Season’s Biggest Question; Yes, Santa IS Real!

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When it comes to the delicate matter of belief, there are creative ways to answer our children’s questions without taking the magic out of life.

When my oldest daughter was about five, she asked whether Santa Claus was real. Her dad and I told her that Santa is real — to those who believe.

Is love real? Is hope real? Is magic real? Is faith real? Is God? We can’t touch or see any of these things, but most of us believe in at least a few of them. In some cases, we can feel them. In others, we may see proof of them appearing in the physical world.

I believe in Christmas miracles. I believe that Mystics speak with God. I believe that Tibetan lamas reincarnate with full recall of their previous lives. I believe in our ability to do good in the world, with each conscious choice we make. I believe in faeries, and faerie tales, pookas, ghosts, saints, and goblins. I believe in a power omnipresent and indivisible.

And, I still believe in Santa Claus. I always will. Just like I believe in God, with Its ineffability, and the many faces It wears.

Jitterbug Perfume by Tim Robbins has one of the best descriptions I’ve seen of the human relationship with deity. The premise is this: the gods depend upon our belief in them to survive. Our belief in the gods is what makes them real.

The power of belief is an important gift we must instruct and safeguard in our children. Belief is what we build our lives upon. Without belief, we may be cast adrift on an endless, meaningless sea. Belief offers a rudder when nothing else can help us find our way.

At 11, my oldest daughter started the Christmas season by saying she no longer believed in Santa. And then complained when she didn’t feel the Christmas Spirit flooding her as we trimmed the tree.

I talked to her about faith.

The fact is, sometimes it’s hard to have faith that Santa will come. I’ll admit it; even I have been known to test The Spirit from time to time. My first Christmas post-divorce I made such a test.

That year it was hard to find my belief in the Spirit of Christmas. I had no one to give my Christmas list to. No one to tell what I hoped to find under the tree. I prayed to the universe to enforce my faith. I wanted proof that Santa was still real.

I wanted indoor/outdoor, “Ugg” knock-off slippers. I know, it’s kind of petty. Slippers? But it was what I wanted. Sometimes, especially in the midst of doubt, fear, and sadness, it’s the little things that matter. Cozy feet on a lonely morning. A small gift out of nowhere.

It was a deal between me and The Spirit, and since I had asked, The Spirit knew exactly what was required to validate my faith.

Come Christmas day, I was gifted a pair of slippers.

That Christmas, Santa showed up as my sister. She didn’t get the slippers for me, but for another family member. When the slippers didn’t fit the quickly growing girl, my sister asked me to take them instead; she didn’t want to go to the trouble of carrying them home on the plane and exchanging them.

I whispered a thank you to Santa, and reminded myself that sometimes He works in mysterious ways; I didn’t know my sister was bringing slippers for the nieces. She didn’t know I wanted them, either. But Santa did. And He delivered.

Throughout my life I’ve seen innumerable miracles of Christmas faith occur, large and small.

I was 14 when my father left the family. That year Christmas looked bleak. There were five mouths to feed, and no “extra”money to be found. We had a “Charlie Brown tree” cut from a stand of fir trees on our own land, and bedecked with ornaments from Christmases past. We were fortunate enough to have food in the cupboard. But my mother was devastated knowing there was no way she would be able to provide Christmas gifts for all of us.

As the eldest, I was privy to the goings-on of the adult world. But to this day, I don’t have any idea who brought Santa that year. All I know is that on Christmas Eve a jolly, bespectacled  man with a beard of white and suit of red pulled into our very remote, country driveway in his sleigh — or rather, his worn, old, white pick-up truck — with bags filled with festively wrapped gifts. There was a name on each one.

Santa left the bags on our porch. With a jolly smile he offered a “Merry Christmas!”, and was on his way.

In 2007 my Christmas Miracle was the grandest The Spirit of Christmas has yet conspired to deliver for me; the man I’ve been waiting my whole life to find traversed mountain and river that stormy December to be by my side and spend the holidays with me and the children.

That Christmas I felt like both Doris and little Susan in Miracle on 34th Street; the home, the family, the life that I had been nearly afraid to desire became my greatest Christmas miracle. Now every holiday season is a celebration of that most profound of miracles; the emergence of a love perfect and complete.

For me, the holidays will continue for the rest of our lives. My faith in the Miracle of Christmas is no longer shakable. No more tests required – I finally got my ultimate proof.  The man of my dreams, now my husband, is here to stay.

Some would say it was just a fluke of timing. And there’s something to that; finding The One is a miracle whenever it happens. But to me, it was more than just a twist of circumstance that this relationship arrived wrapped in a  Christmas ribbon. For me, it’s further proof that when we open ourselves to the possibility that magic exists, magic proves itself real.

Receiving the Miracles, while amazing, heart-expanding, and at times even life-saving, are only one side of the Christmas Miracle coin. The other side is the one where we become the manifestation of The Spirit. Through our agency, miracles are made manifest.

Movies are built on the theme of The Christmas Miracle. In this case, art imitates life. Christmas stories with their grand, sweeping, soaring themes serve as a reminder of what’s possible when we allow ourselves to invest in love and faith. And as believing becomes more effortless, the miracles grow larger.

Off the screen, food banks fill for at least one day with more than enough to feed the local hungry. People open their homes to strangers so they will have somewhere to be on Christmas morning. Communities pull together and provide gifts for children who would otherwise have been without.

To quote the words of song writer Red West, popularized by Elvis, “if every day could be just like Christmas, what a wonderful world this would be.”

It’s been proven to me again and again through personal experience that the Holiday Spirit does exist. I have been both the one who receives and the one who delivers on the promise of hope that the season offers.

As a Mystic mama, I don’t feel like a hypocrite or a liar, or as though I’m misleading my children by allowing them to believe in a power that makes their child-lives a little more happy, a little more bountiful, a little more hopeful, a little more magical.

And as they grow older, The Spirit need not disappear for our children. Instead of losing heart at the news that Santa is a myth — or a god, or a spirit, or a force — faith may continue to flourish. Given the chance to become part of the spirit of Saint Nick, children can become an active part of that energy of selfless giving. They will become the ones who enact the miracles of the season. In learning about the true meaning of the Spirit of generosity and kindness, they grow to be the hearts and bodies that offer those miracles up.

Back to my daughter as a proof of the shift that may occur with proper shifting of the dynamic of belief; when she was 12, she and I started the holiday season by clearing out all of our excess belongings; warm coats, bedding, clothes that would make a person feel happy to wear, some toys, and taking them to a homeless services center in our town. She was adamant about not only wanting to participate in the gathering up of the items, but also in participating in the process of dropping the boxes off at the center.

Together, we took three large, heaping boxes of items that would brighten the season for people we would never meet, and dropped them off with a group of people who had dedicated their lives to helping the generally unseen members of our community – all year round.

That office is gone now – closed due to lack of funding. But our ability to pull together and deliver Miracles is not. For us it has become a more personal offering. Buying food for a hungry person sitting outside a grocery store. Carrying give-away items in the back of the car and offering them to people in need. Listening to the stories of those who have ended up on the street. Recognizing a person; making him or her seen, if only for the duration of the conversation.

The gratitude returned is a larger gift than any other.

The Spirit is palpable. It acts in the world. Whether you call it the power of faith, or Jesus, or Santa Claus, or generosity, it’s a reminder of a bond of love for our fellow man.

Regardless of the name we give it, it sustains. If we allow it to, if we believe it will, The Spirit acts through and for each of us, bringing miracles to bear.

RECOMMENDED ACTIVITIES:
1. Itemize memories of Christmas miracles – offered and received – in your own life.
2. Practice a random act of holiday cheer.
3. Find a way to “give back” to your community. Or pay it forward. Or however you look at it.
4. Be someone’s Santa.
5. Involve your child or children in these activities.

Other holiday themed articles:
Of Dark Nights and Wood Stoves – A Christmas Reminiscence
Compassionate Consumerism
Reframing Your Family’s Recesssion Anxiety to Conscious Consumerism
Five Ways to Engage Your Kids in Grateful Giving

Support an independent business person; ME!!!

Tarot Readings with Lasara – Gfit Certificates holiday special!

Register a loved one for the Sexy Witch Teleclass experience!!!


January, 2013; A LOCAL, IN-PERSON SEXY WITCH COURSE? YOU can make this happen. Local? Register now.

Seven Things You Probably Didn’t Know About Islam

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Reprinted from elephantjournal.com, first publication date 9/4/2010

Bismillah, ar Rahman, ar Rahim. (In the name of Allah, most beneficent and merciful.)

Ramadan kareem!

1. Mystical Oneness with God
In a mystical sense, Islam is a non-dualist religion. When I first read these words by ‘Ali ibn Abi Talib and Fatima bint Muhammad, I was overwhelmed with a sense of, “Oh my God! Exactly!”

Thus whoever attaches attributes to [God] recognizes His like, and who recognizes His like regards Him two; 
and who regards Him two recognizes parts for Him;
 and who recognizes parts for Him mistook Him;
 and who mistook Him pointed at Him;
 and who pointed at Him admitted limitations for Him;
 and who admitted limitations for Him numbered Him.
Whoever said in what is He, held that He is contained;
 and whoever said on what is He held He is not on something else.
~ Ali ibn Abi Talib

Ali ibn Abi Talib was of the house of Muhammad—peace be upon him. Ali was the first Muslim to convert after the Prophet was said to have been visited by the angel that brought God’s words to Muhammad. Those words were the Qur’an (the recitation). Fatima bint Muhammad—peace be upon her—was the daughter of Muhammad.

Ali and Fatima were two of the earliest Muslims. So the mystical fibre of Islam is root-deep.

2. Who is Allah?
Allah has the same roots as the Aramaic “El” and the Hebrew Elah. Allah literally means “The God.” “al” means ‘the,” and “elah” (or some variation of it) means “god.” God does not have a gender in Islam, though is referred to as “He” out of respect.

Yeah, I know, kinda messed up, but at least Muslims don’t actually think God is some guy sitting in the clouds. It is considered a grave violation and failing to give attributes to Allah, because as with anything, defining Him/It limits It/Him.

3. Islam and Peace
The Arabic words “Islam” (for the religion) and “salaam” (peace) are from the same Semitic roots; S-L-M. The word Islam means submission, and is taken to mean submission to God (similar perhaps to the expression “God-fearing”). It could as easily mean peace, purity, safety.

In common understanding, to be Muslim means to have surrendered your will to God; to have submitted one’s will to the grace of Allah.

4. Jihad
The word jihad has come to be synonymous with “holy war” in the American vernacular. It has been used by the Palestinian people to mean “uprising.”

Jihad actually means struggle.

“The best jihad is (by) the one who strives against his own self for Allah, The Mighty and Majestic,”
~ the Hadith (sayings of the Prophet Muhammad—peace be upon him).

5. Honoring Your Mother in Islam
There are many Hadiths (loosely; stories that offer the teachings of The Prophet) that beautifully address the role of the mother in Islam.

One such says: I said to the Holy Prophet, “O Messenger of Allah, I desire to go on a (military) expedition and I have come to consult you.” He asked me if I had a mother, and when I replied that I had, he said, “Stay with her because Paradise lies beneath her feet.”

Another says; I asked the Prophet who has the greatest right over a man, and he said, “His mother.”

One of my favorites goes like this: I asked, “Messenger of Allah, to whom should I be dutiful?” He replied, “Your mother.” I asked, “Then whom?” He replied, “Your mother.” I asked, “Then whom?” He replied, “Your mother.” I asked, “Then whom?” He replied, “Your mother.” I asked, “Then to whom should I be dutiful?” He replied, “Your father, and then the next closest relative and then the next.”

6. Marriage in Islam
While arranged marriage is still common in many Muslim cultures, any woman has the right to refuse a marriage match. And, while polygamy is considered lawful in Islam, a polygamous marriage may only occur where both (or all) women are in accord with the choice to be co-wives.

Divorce is legal in Islam, and a woman is guaranteed a divorce settlement even before marriage. Additionally, in marriage a man’s property becomes communal property by law, but a woman’s property remains in her own claim.

7. Sex in Islam
“Permitted to you on the night of the Fasts is the approach to your wives. They are your garments and you are their garments.”
(Qur’an, 2:187)

Obviously, Islam has a long way to go in regards to creating a healthy relationship with sex. (Still, don’t we all?)

Yes, it’s a homophobic religion, and one with strict regulation of sexuality beyond even that.

However, when sex happens within the container of the laws of Islam, i.e.; between a lawfully wedded woman and man, Islam (on the whole) has fewer sex-negative or sex phobic views than you would think.

Contraception is allowed, as is first-trimester abortion. In addition, sex has many extra-procreative purposes in Islamic faith, including deepening companionship between husband and wife.

“The Prophet himself, while not divulging all aspects of his own sexual life, was known for his nature as a loving husband who was sensitive and physically demonstrative. In several hadith, he speaks about the importance of foreplay and speaking in loving terms during sexual relations. Again, the concept of mutual satisfaction is elucidated in a hadith which advises husbands to engage in acts that enable a woman to achieve orgasm first. …Sexual dissatisfaction is considered legitimate grounds for divorce on the part of either wife or husband.”
- Source.

There’s even the suggestion that sexual intimacy between man and wife is a gift of worship, and something a Muslim will be rewarded for by Allah.

Female circumcision is not an Islamic practice, but an African tribal one, that predates the introduction of Islam to the areas that practice female circumcision (aka FGM, or female genital mutilation). The vast majority of Islamic countries and cultures do not practice female circumcision at all.

In honor of Ramadan, the most holy month in Islam, I hope we can all take a moment to honor the diversity of faiths that hold the world together, as much as they might tear it apart.

Clinging to anything causes suffering, and there is no exception to the rule here. But while we share the air, we share breath. Let’s be inspired by each other. And allow the outer jihad to give way to the greater jihad; the jihad of one’s own soul.

In Honor of Ramadan

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Reposted from Ramadan, 2007

Another part of my journey in Islam

Credit: http://arabiccalligraphy4u.blogspot.com/2009/04/zahra-and-mohammed.html

Ramadan kareem!

Yes, I am observing the fast of Ramadan. I never could have foreseen this, but I don’t know why. It makes perfect sense. Beginning after my first trip to the Holy Land, I started studying Islam. My most recent trip ended just as Ramadan began. My first day home was the first day of Ramadan.

While in Bethlehem, the excitement level was rising. I was invited by many to extend my trip and to spend Ramadan in their homes. (Yeah, the whole month. I have never met with such utter hospitality.) I couldn’t, though if I had been able to I certainly would have. Leaving was difficult as it was, and I would have loved to have spent this holy time in a Muslim community.

Instead, I came home, and have taken Ramadan by myself. I am studying deep into Islam, and have found many elements that speak directly to my heart. The spiritual side of Islam appeals to me more than any other religion I have studied. (Notice I didn’t say spiritual path, I specifically said religion.) The spiritual aspect is Mysticism. Direct relationship with God, no mediation, the awareness that God is both imminent and transcendent.

The law and politics side is more sticky, tricky, trigger-happy for me.

And for both these things I am exceedingly grateful. The part that makes sense with no need for translation. The part that is my home already, is my heart, my love, my life, my surrender, my path. The part where God is, and i am.

And, the part that is so alien that I can’t look directly at it without engaging in separation.

How does all of it “make perfect sense?” I could not have thought of a better way to pull “my self” outside of myself; outside of the known, outside of the assumed, outside of the easy, the comfortable, the illusory. Sometimes it’s too easy to fall into ease, and not even realize that Truth Eternal has been sacrificed in the offing.

Ego rebuilds itself moment to moment, assuming new shapes to hold, contain, divide, define itself by. Even the idea of enlightenment can stand in the way of our relationship with It.

Circle of Women, Tomb of the Patriarch, Al-Khalil/Hebron

Circle of Women, Tomb of the Patriarch, Al-Khalil/Hebron

So, the perfection lies in being stretched beyond my own edges in a way that I ask for again and again. Through the frame of Islam, I can see God unchanged, unchanging. The way I have come to know It. I can also see where my ego is attached to the way I encounter God, approach God, conceive of God.

One of the big jokes of it all (and there are many, many Big Jokes for me in the terrain of my dissembling soul), is that God cannot be approached. God is. Eternal. Everywhere present, but in no one place localized. Beyond our comprehension. So, even on the mental level, God cannot be approached.

As a Mystic, I can say that all paths to the Divine are equal, while knowing that “path” is a misnomer, and “to the” a misleading statement. Even naming It,  whether “Divine” or “God” is a veil.

“love is a veil between lover and loved
more than this I am not allowed to say.”
Jalal-ud-Din Rumi

Even the idea of love is separation. In claiming a beloved, earthly or divine, we put ourselves into separation. Through this separation we have the chance to seek reunion.

Just as delineation limits by virtue of fixing “some thing” in place, love and aversion limit by placing things outside of ourselves, which creates something outside of The Other, as well. There is a sense of “the thing I am”, or “the thing I am not.” Both reinforce division.

But where better to see my assumed flaws, faults, assumed strengths? Where better to see my attachments?

In this, the healing of the world.

As my sense of self lies shattered into pieces on the ground around me, I laugh, and I cry. Some shards melt into the earth and become cells of the ageless soil. Some wisps of vapor, becoming the unchanging air. Some become sparks of light and join with the unwavering light of the sun.

And even beyond the joining with the geological and universal, each element in its time fades and joins the eternal, returning to the first home, the last home, the home that is now, and always will be; the heart of The One.

In the midst of the agonies and the ecstasies of mergence, emergence, mergence…I come back to the moments of peace where there is no separation.

What if “that I am,” were true of everything. What if inside and outside were an illusion? What if there were no line between work and life. Relationships with people and with God. Spiritual path and life, just as it is.

Cessation. At the heart of it all is surrender. The moment where lover and beloved are not two, but one. Nay, are none.

Ma salaam,

-LaSara (Fatima ‘Abd-Rahim)

“The foremost in religion is the acknowledgement of Him, the perfection of acknowledging Him is to testify Him, the perfection of testifying Him is to believe in His Oneness, the perfection of believing in His Oneness is to regard Him Pure, and the perfection of His purity is to deny Him attributes, because every attribute is a proof that it is different from that to which it is attributed and everything to which something is attributed is different from the attribute. Thus whoever attaches attributes to Allah recognises His like, and who recognises His like regards Him two; and who regards Him two recognises parts for Him; and who recognises parts for Him mistook Him; and who mistook Him pointed at Him; and who pointed at Him admitted limitations for Him; and who admitted limitations for Him numbered Him.
Whoever said in what is He, held that He is contained; and whoever said on what is He held He is not on something else. He is a Being but not through phenomenon of coming into being. He exists but not from non-existence. He is with everything but not in physical nearness. He is different from everything but not in physical separation. He acts but without connotation of movements and instruments. He sees even when there is none to be looked at from among His creation. He is only One, such that there is none with whom He may keep company or whom He may miss in his absence.”
-The oneness of god, according to Ali ibn Abi Talib

“I testify that there is no Deity (Lord) except the sole and matchless Allah. And the testification of the singleness of Allah is a word that Allah has declared sincerity (as) its reality, and made the hearts the centre of its contact and union. And has made the specifications and research of the oneness of Allah’s station obvious and evident in the light of meditation. The Allah Who can not be seen by the eyes and tongues are unable and baffled to describe His virtues and attributes. And the intelligence and apprehension of man is helpless and destitute from the imagination of his how ness.”
-Fatima bint Muhammad

Fearless in the Face of God – my journey to the Holy Land, part I

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God was, literally, talking to me. It (my gender-neutral pronoun – I just can’t say He!) was waking me from my dreams every night. It was giving me clear directives. It was telling me how to live my life, what to do, and how to do it.

When I wasn’t awakened by The Voice, it found It’s way in through my dreams. I could plug my ears, or sleep through the nightly sermon out of sheer exhaustion. But I couldn’t close my mind to it.

It was talking to me all the time.

“Okay,” I thought, “this is it. I’ve finally gone over the edge. Fallen into the deep end. Cracked. I’m hearing voices. That’s a bad sign. Right?”

For days, even weeks, I was disoriented, even afraid, as answers came in my sleeping and waking life – sometimes through words, sometimes through wordless knowing, sometimes through dreams. Lions, and hills, and choices, metaphorical forks in metaphorical roads.

The weirdest thing was that these answers were not always to Grand Questions – sometimes it was the little ones.

One The Voice told me not to use words in my writing that my spell-check didn’t recognize. For a woman “who grew up on Greek” that was a large commandment indeed. But so seemingly mundane.

But there was one command that came back again and again. “Arise,” the voice said, “and go to the Holy Land!” Okay, maybe it didn’t use exactly those words. After all, God spoke through an angel, and angels have their own language.

I could never remember the actual voice of The Angel, or even attributes to it. I couldn’t remember if it spoke English, or whether it “spoke” in esoteric sounds or signs that went straight to some secret, undiscovered part of my brain, some biological Rosetta Stone designed for the translation of the language of suprahuman beings to comprehension by the merely human mind.

Regardless, The Angel commended it, and I had to listen. The Angel plagued me with it. Sooner or later, it was not just the fact that The Voice was taking to me, but that it was telling me, over and over again, to do something I had no previous intention of doing.

I was going mad. At least I thought I was. Until I recognized the actual truth of it all; by categorizing the experience of clairaudience to the realm of madness, I wasn’t walking my talk.

I was a Mystic. The history of my spiritual path is built on the foundation of clairaudience, built on the first-person relationship with It, with God. Built upon exactly the kind of directives that It – The Voice – was giving me.

At the exact moment I needed it most, I found words that gave me the message I needed to move out of fear and into action. To paraphrase Andrew Harvey (from the book The Direct Path), the only way to not go mad as enlightenment descends is to not get attached to miracles.

So God was talking to me. So what?

But it was still God, and when God says jump, the only possible answer for a person of faith is, “How high?”

In this case it was high.

The details of how I found an actual way to get to the Holy Land are details for another day, and the stories that lead to my path of Mysticism, also relevant, will have to wait for later.

This story is about how I found the way in my heart to answer God’s call without fear.

There are plenty of examples in our collective religious and spiritual histories of God asking the untenable. Of God asking for sacrifices so large that the may break body, or spirit.

I knew that the directive being given to me could possibly do either.

We are afraid, culturally afraid, of The Other. In our xenophobic blindness, we turn our eyes away from women shrouded with the cloth if Islam.  I was afraid of terrorists.

I was afraid of the war without end that rages in the Middle East, the war that our collective religious history holds as the war to end all wars.

In facing my fears, my resistance, I looked in many directions for answers that would lead my heart to the ability to enter into this without fear.

The answer was to relinquish my fear of death. This was one I thought I had sorted out already. Death didn’t scare me! But facing the perceived courting of it did.

The first personal saint I found in learning this was a man who had been martyred for his seeking of peace. Tom Fox, a member of a Christian Peacemaker Team, gave me the first words that started me on my path towards this step towards liberation.

Tom died in Fallujah, working as an on-the-ground humanitarian. After repeated threats by the extremists to leave the area, and repeated please from the people of Fallujah not to, he was kidnapped with the rest of his team.

Fox had recognized that his peace activities entailed possible danger. He had left instructions as to what should be done if he was kidnapped. “Under no circumstances did he want any violent efforts to rescue him,” Maulden said.
-The Washington Post

These are among the last words he left for his family, back at home in the US; “If I am ever called upon to make the ultimate sacrifice in love of enemy, I trust that God will give me the grace to do so.”

What else could I offer, than a prayer this deep?

The next saint that was sent my way was Saint Gerasimos. The story of this saint is Saint Gerasimos and Jordanes. The story is long, but the part that was most important to me at the time was this:

One day Saint Gerasimos was walking along the Jordan River. He heard a roaring, a howling. Following it, Gerasimos found a lion with a thorn in its paw.  With absolute love, Gerasimos walked up to the lion and removed the thorn, and bound the paw with cloth.

From this point on, the lion was devoted to Gerasimos. The rest of the story of Saint Gersaimos and the Lion (who eventually earned the name Jordanes) is lovely too, but this first part gave me the one tool I needed to enter into this journey fearlessly; to encounter any potential danger with absolute love.

And enter into it with love I did. I had found the “how”. My heart wide open, nearly to the point of breaking, I entered into a seemingly perilous land fearlessly.

But I was still completely unsure of the “why”.

The Answer to the Season’s Biggest Question; Yes, Santa IS Real!

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Keywords: — The Answer to the Season’s Biggest Question; Yes, Santa IS Real!, santa claus, santa clause, god, christmas, family, values, generosity, mysticism, children, santa is real, holiday season, hard questions, faith, christmas spirit, jesus, belief , magic, miracles, christmas miracles, question, santa, spirit, babbo natale

When it comes to the delicate matter of belief, there are creative ways to answer our children’s questions without taking the magic out of life.

When my oldest daughter was about five, she asked whether Santa Claus was real. Her dad and I told her that Santa is real to those who believe.

Is love real? Is hope real? Is magic real? Is faith real? We can’t touch or see any of these things, but most of us do believe in at least a few of them. In some cases, we can feel them. In others, we see proof of them appearing in the physical world.

I still believe in Santa Claus, and always will.

I believe that Tibetan Lamas reincarnate with full recall of their previous lives. I believe in knights in shining armor, and princesses in towers. Sometimes it irks me to admit it, but believe I do. I believe in faeries, and faerie tales, pookas, ghosts, saints, and goblins. And I believe in Christmas miracles.

Just like I believe in God, with Its ineffability, and the many faces It wears.

<em>Jitterbug Perfume</em> by Tim Robbins has one of the best descriptions I’ve seen of the human relationship with deity. The premise is this: the gods depend upon our belief in them to survive. Our belief makes them real.

The power of belief is an important gift we must safeguard and instruct in our children. Belief is what we build our lives upon. Without belief, we’re cast adrift on an endless, meaningless sea. Belief offers a rudder when nothing else can help us find our way. 

At 12, my oldest daughter started our Christmas festivities by saying she no longer believes in Santa. And then complained when she didn’t feel the Christmas Spirit flooding her as we trimmed the tree.

I talked to her about faith.

The fact is, sometimes it’s been hard to have faith that Santa will come. I’ll admit it; even I of abundant belief I have been known to test The Spirit from time to time. In 2006 I made one such test. It was my first Christmas post-divorce. I had no one to give my Christmas list to. No one to tell what I hoped to find under the tree. That year it was hard to find my belief in the Spirit of Christmas.

I wanted indoor/outdoor, “Ugg” knock-off slippers. It was what I wanted. It was a deal between me and God, and since I had asked, God knew exactly what was required to prove my faith. I know, it’s kind of petty. Slippers?

But sometime it’s the little things that matter. Cozy feet on a lonely morning. A small gift out of nowhere.

Come Christmas, I was gifted a pair of slippers. The gifter didn’t buy them for me, but for a niece. When the slippers didn’t fit the quickly growing girl, my sister asked me to take them instead; she didn’t want to go to the trouble of carrying them home on the plane and exchanging them.

I whispered a thank you to Santa, and reminded myself that sometimes He works in mysterious ways. He makes miracles occur. Or at least the belief in Him does.

I didn’t know my sister was bringing slippers for the nieces. She didn’t know I wanted them, either. But He did. And He delivered.

Throughout my life I’ve seen innumerable miracles of Christmas faith occur, large and small. Movies are built on the theme of The Christmas Miracle.

Art imitates life. Off the screen, food banks fill for at least one day with more than enough to feed the local hungry. I’ve seen people open their doors to strangers so they would have somewhere to be on Christmas morning. I’ve seen communities pull together and provide gifts for children who would have otherwise gone without.

To quote the words of song writer Red West, popularized by Elvis, “if every day could be just like Christmas, what a wonderful world this would be.”

Christmas movies with their grand, soaring themes serve only as a reminder of what’s possible when we allow ourselves to invest in love and faith. And as believing becomes more effortless, the miracles become larger.

My faith in the Miracle of Christmas is no longer shakable. No more tests required – I finally got my ultimate proof.

In 2007 my Christmas Miracle was the grandest The Spirit of Christmas has yet conspired to deliver for me. The man I’ve been waiting my whole life to find crossed mountains and rivers that stormy December to be by my side and spend the holidays with me and the children.

The holidays have never ended for us. They’ll continue for the rest of our lives. The man of my dreams, now my husband, hasn’t left since.

That Christmas I felt like both Doris and little Susan in Miracle on 34th Street; the home, the family, the life that I had been nearly afraid to desire became my greatest Christmas miracle. Now every holiday season is a celebration of that most profound of miracles; the emergence of a love perfect and complete.

As a Mystic Mama, I don’t feel that I’m misleading my children by encouraging them to believe in a power that makes their lives happier, more joyous, more bountiful, more hopeful, more magical.

As they grow older, my children get to become an active part of that energy of selfless giving. They become the ones who enact the spirit. The arms, legs, bodies and hearts that offer those miracles up.

I know from personal experience that the Holiday Spirit does exist. It’s palpable. It acts in the world.

Call it the power of faith, or Jesus, or Santa Claus, or generosity, it’s a reminder of a bond of love for our fellow man. Regardless of the name we give it, it sustains. It acts through and for each of us, bringing miracles to bear.

Kind of like God.

Happy 2010 from Lasára and the Allen Household!

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Robert and Lasára Allen, Dec. 25, '09Tired of New Years Resolutions? Why Not New Years Commitments, Intetionstions, and Fun?

Have you made any resolutions? Many of us make resolutions and then fail. Many of us make resolutions and then fail. I’m choosing to make intentions and commitments. But always with one cautionary caveat, which I encourage YOU to adopt as well; remember that while today is the first day of the rest of your year, this is also the first day of the rest of your life! And, this moment is the first moment of the rest of your physical existence. Every breath is a chance to make a new choice.

When you “fall short” of that commitment, offer yourself compassion instead of self-denigration, and gratitude instead of blame.

This new year, I’ll be making three lists. Each has a higher level of commitment 1: Commitments; 2: Intentions; 3; My “WHY NOT?” List.

List One; Commitments:

  • To recognize that every area of practice towards my own health is an act of dedication to the liberation of all sentient beings pervading time and space.
  • To recognize that serving my husband, my children, my family and my friends are part of my spiritual practice, and to treat it as such. And, to remember that this also serve the liberation of all beings.
  • To continue following the path that my gratitude practice opens for me.
  • To train towards my physical and fitness goals with passion and dedication. Failure is not an option.
  • To remain open to the idea, realization, (fact?), that love can be easeful, and that I am safe in it. And, safe in the arms and grace of my Mr.
  • Without expectation, to celebrate every anniversary and celebration that my Mr. and I can count as momentous; Valentines day when he moved in, reconfirmation June 26 in Seattle, August 12 when we eloped, Oct 3rd when we reconfirmed our vows, and Christmas when he was delivered to me – my greatest Christmas Miracle ever.
  • To build a circle of similarly minded friends here in the area, and to actively commitment to this as a practice of faith, desire, and love.
  • To continue working in acceptance of the choices I have made to support my growing balance and mental health, even when those choices feel like limitations.
  • To continue sharing my gifts with the world in whatever ways I am capable of at any time.
  • To continue trusting that God has a plan for me that is greater than I can see, and that every day I’m fulfilling that plan by living my life in as much consciousness as I can achieve.

Ror, Dec. 25, '09

List Two; Intentions

  • To begin praying and meditating again in a way that serves to ground and inspire me instead of making me too high and open.
  • To allow financial, desired, perfect abundance to enter and flow in my life, and have less attachment about how that flow occurs. To trust that God knows best how to deliver this abundance.
  • To follow the attraction and direction of my heart with grace, trust, and joy.
  • To invest in and develop forgiveness for myself and and the harm that occurred in my past.
  • More and more, to allow the support I so deeply desire.
  • To take what I have learned of trust, honesty, and openness from my husband and begin generalizing it to the rest of the world.
  • To hold regular gatherings as part of my community building adventure.
  • To close at least one book deal.
  • To write my next book, or books.
  • To shop Gratigories to a card publisher who may also want to publish my gratitude books.
  • To take trips outside the area more regularly.
  • To begin reading more books again.

List 3; My “WHY NOT?” List (next year and beyond):

  • Plan a belated honeymoon to Europe (Italy primarily) with my Mr.Sollie, 12.25.09
  • Run a half marathon.
  • Work toward my best comprehensive health in my life.
  • Get yoga instructor 200 hour certification.
  • Trust that love and sexual sharing can be exactly as I hope for it; easy, safe, based purely in shared desire and trust.
  • Explore new religions. (Catholicism, traditional Tantra, deeper into Tibetan Buddhism and Tantric teachings and ritual.)
  • Explore excavation of darkness and shadow, in the light.
  • Go dancing.
  • Take a dance class (again after all these years).
  • Take a voice class (again after all these years).
  • Visit different churches just to see what part of me the services sing to.

And, my final commitment; to visit this page at least once every three months, and mark off the things that actually have a completion point, and star the things I’m doing well on that are a path without destination.

What are your commitments, intentions, or WHY NOTs? I look forward to seeing what you have to share.

And with wishes of joy, abundance, and greatest gratitude, a very heartfelt prayer for a 2010 that is beyond your sweetest dreams, from our home and family to yours.

In GRATITUDE! (heart here!)