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April 25, 2001

"So get this - I just received this little goodie reminding me of what life was like in my former home, Walpole, New Hampshire.

Subject: You know you're from Walpole, New Hampshire when...

1. Your idea of a traffic jam is ten cars waiting to pass a tractor on the highway.
2. "Vacation" means going to Burlington for the weekend.
3. You measure distance in hours.
4. You know several people who have hit moose more than once.
5. You often switch from "heat" to "A/C" in the same day.
6. You use a down comforter in the summer.
7. Your grandparents drive at 65 mph through 13 feet of snow during a raging blizzard, without flinching.
8. You see people wearing hunting clothes at social events.
9. You install security lights on your house and garage and leave both unlocked.
10. You think of the major food groups as deer meat, beer, fish, and berries.
11. You carry jumper cables in your car and your girlfriend knows how to use them.
12. There are 7 empty cars running in the parking lot at the Derby store at any given time.
13. You design your kid's Halloween costume to fit over a snowsuit.
14. Driving is better in the winter because the potholes are filled with snow.
15. You think sexy lingerie is tube socks and flannel pajamas.
16. You know all 4 seasons: almost winter, winter, still winter, construction.
17. It takes you 3 hours to go to the store for one item even when you're in a rush because you have to stop and talk to everyone in town.
18. You actually understand these jokes and forward them to all your friends from New Hampshire.

Believe it or not, this is exactly what life was like. Ten years I lived like this - my house didn't have locks on the doors either. In fact, when I asked my landlord for locks, telling him that I am from Chicago and no one in Chicago would even consider door without a lock, he said, "Okay, I'll put a lock on your door, only it won't do you any good 'cause I don't have locks on mine." So much for that.

But I did have a colony of migratory bats that lived in the attic of the farmhouse. When I was bored on summer evenings I used to go outside and watch them exit from the roof at dusk. I even took up counting them, but that just got to be too confusing since they all look alike.

Occasionally one would get into my house and all hell would break loose. They can't lift themselves off the ground - they have to find some high spot so that they can drop into flight - sometimes it was the top of my curtains. I pulled a curtain off the window one time trying to capture one of those ill-begotten creatures of the night. One came into the house while my parents were visiting. While standing in my bedroom just before I turned on the light, I could hear that dreadful sound of rapid flying around in my room. Then the lights hit and the bat began to fly as if its wings were on fire, which would have been very convenient at the time. (While I honor Buddhism and its code of reincarnation - I refuse to believe that a bat could be the reincarnation of a late relative of mine.) I ran down the stairs screaming, "There's a bat in the house," - only my language was a bit more explicit. My father - who was an ex-Marine who survived the first landing on Guadalcanal - 33 lived and a thousand died - jumped out of his chair, ran to the phone, and called the sheriff. This is when I realized this bat thing was getting out of hand. I told him that I had to continue living in Walpole, N.H. and that phoning the sheriff for a bat-emergency was going to destroy my reputation.

Not to dwell on this part of life in Walpole, but while hosting a dinner party - if you could call eating steamed veggies, lettuce, and organic bread a dinner party - one of my friends went up the stairs to the bathroom. She used the hall light rather than flip on the bathroom light - it was private up there and the light was bright so locking herself into the bathroom was totally unnecessary. She reached into the sink to grab the bar of soap afterwards only to realize she had instead grabbed a bat that had landed in the sink that was obviously unable to figure out a way out of that porcelain prison. Well, she flew down the stairs - lucky she didn't take a tumble - and due to the fact that she was simultaneously trying to scream while gasping for breath, she paralyzed her vocal cords - temporarily, that is. I knew something was wrong the moment I laid eyes on her when she returned to the kitchen - and not because I'm medically intuitive. She was near passing out, couldn't speak, and was pointing her finger toward the ceiling. Actually, she looked like a walking game of Clue. I almost started making jokes about how her desire for a date conjured up her worst Dracula nightmare - of Nightmare, as the case might be - but I could see she was in no condition for humor. Needless to say, she never came over again - but then again, I never had another bat in my bathroom and for all I know, that entire incident could have been her fault. Who knows why bats like some people and not others.

But you know, the other animals on the farm were just fine. My dear landlord, for instance, owned four rams that first summer I lived on the farm. I actually didn't know that until I met them one afternoon as I drove into the driveway after work. There they were - the Four Rams of Apocalypse - just waiting for me to get out of the car. As I opened the door, they started to surround my car and stare at me with those wide spread eyes that make you wonder how they can maneuver in a straight line. I made aim for the front door and two of them headed toward me in a trot. I returned their trot and raised them two yards, jumping on to the hood of my car. I actually did not have time to open the door and climb back in. Their heads could reach me and as I watched their wretched little faces come closer to me, I slowly slipped onto the roof of my car and assumed a yoga position - not for the purpose of prayer, but as a way of balancing my weight. Eventually, my dear landlord returned home - if memory serves me, about four hours into this ordeal - and returned his pets to their "homes". Next spring, my landlord invited me over for the first official barbeque of the season with the family. He was serving lamb chops. That's when he told me that they - meaning you know who - had actually spent the winter in his freezer.

I noticed in the following comments on Walpole that no mention is made of the one other fact about Walpole and that's the wonderful people who live in that town. I am filled with emotion as I write this section because I spent so much time with people who openly shared their prayer life and their commitment to making life on this planet better every way they could. I recall one very special person who became and remains a dedicated social activist. Her name is Jean. And Magical Nina who every year turned her farm into a summer camp every year for 60 kids from underprivileged places. She was - and is - incredible - knowing that these kids would eventually work their way through her drawers and all hiding places, she left notes and candy bars for them as a way of saying, "Who are you kidding? I knew you'd look in here." Shirley was my yoga teacher - I gave up yoga during this first attempt to learn the practice - picked it up with a bit more respect later on. We ended up spending every Sunday morning together reading the New York Times and eating bagels and salmon. How I loved her.

These people, and so many more, taught me to appreciate the meaning of community and how precious it is to share a bond with others that you know you could rely on. I loved the fact that we celebrated social and spiritual holy days together and that never once did I experience the psyche of imposition. Nothing was too great to ask, to offer, or to give. I miss that so much, and I miss all of them.... I hold in my heart the desire to live in that community once again, somewhere when the time and place come together. I think that is why I visualize the people who are in touch with me through this web site as a type of email community - I wish I could meet all of you and tell you face-to-face how much you mean to me. But since that is impossible, I am sending all of you such a warm and loving embrace. I thank you for being a part of my life.

Love,
Caroline

Oh, I was in Texas last week - Austin, to be exact. I stayed at the Four Seasons Hotel - smashingly beautiful. But my point in this story is that this hotel is famous for the fact that a colony of bats resides underneath this one area of the hotel. The bellman explained to me with great excitement that watching the bats fly out at dusk - pause as he tells me, "Cause they come out at dusk, mam", was the big "thing" to do at the hotel. I asked him if it was too late to check out. "No, really, we do have bats." Why is that something to be proud of, I ask you. "So like how big are your Texas bats anyway?" I got this guy going like you wouldn't believe - I mean I was having the time of my life - then I told him that I was a "Batanist" - a person who studies bats. He told me that he had never met someone in that profession before. I gave him a huge tip - least I could do for exaggerating Texas-style.

On the subject of my workshops...

I frequently receive inquiries from people regarding the subject matter of my workshops. My workshop schedule listed on the site describes the various topics that I address in workshops. Of particular interest, however, seems to be the workshops that I have been doing on examining the seven life challenges that will inevitably be a part of each of our lives. Going back to the inspiration for Anatomy of the Spirit, I became intrigued with the significance of the repeated pattern of seven as regards our spirituality and our biology. Specifically, the seven chakras, seven sacraments, and the seven levels of the Tree of Life. My studies of the cycle of seven did not end with that book, however. I continued to pursue patterns that overlapped in a similar way. Eventually this work expanded into my studies of archetypes and Sacred Contracts in this way - chakras, sacraments, and the qualities of the spirit that are listed in the Tree of Life are substances, for lack of a better word. They do not refer to processes - rather they form a collective body of energy that supports spiritual processes. And by process, I am referring to archetypal experiences or rituals that shape and sculpt our paths in life. Each of us, for example, will experience some form of betrayal and we will betray another person. That it is destined should serve as the first clue that suggests there is a profound spiritual purpose behind such a painful experience. Each of us will experience challenges that are beyond our capacity to resolve, thereby leading us into awakening to a point of surrender. And each of us will be led into a form of initiation. The degrees of intensity of these experiences in terms of how they unfold in our lives will vary; but that they will unfold is doubtless.

I developed a workshop examining the seven common spiritual challenges and because they are a shared part of our spiritual journeys. I also wanted to include in these workshops an examination of seven qualities of grace that serve as the companion power to the inner work of our lives.

I welcome your questions on my workshop topics and I also invite you to offer suggestions as to what you would enjoy learning in a workshop. It is of the greatest importance to me to be receptive and responsive to your feedback and suggestions.

Thanks, my friends...I'm hugging all of you.

Caroline