Sunday, July 25, 2010

Spiritual Mutts

A Soulful Canine © Gabe Palmer

Article © 2010 by Joyce Mason

My friend Elizabeth and I have deeply spiritual discussions. One day last year, I was struggling with my growing inability to feel comfortable attending my church, a liberal Catholic parish to which she had introduced me. It had been so much a part of my life at that point, but I was being called to move on—to reclaim my larger spirituality that transcends denomination or ritual.

That’s when she did it. Elizabeth called herself a “spiritual mutt,” someone who doesn’t quite fit into any one church. I knew instantly that I was the same kind of  mongrel.

The downside of this metaphor: Maybe it’s because I was raised Catholic with its historical shadow of darkness including the Inquisition. I couldn’t quite shake the idea of the Dogma Catcher coming after me.

Still, the concept really helped me sort out yet another phase of my never-ending journey. Elizabeth was instrumental in helping me find a Catholic church so welcoming and open-minded; I could go there and heal the dark side of my religious roots. I had a lot of hurt to heal. I had been away for 40 years.

My comeback was like most things I do—all or nothing. I dove into the deep end of the baptismal font. Before I knew it, I was back into the groove of weekly Mass and all the rituals I had missed for most of my adult life. I was involved in key ministries, including those that welcomed others to the community—or welcomed them back after long absences like mine.

I developed a new appreciation for the fact that the spiritual and spirited being I have become emanates from the same core beliefs that molded many of the mystics.

I was back to rediscover the good in my spiritual beginnings. I completed a circle that had been broken and desperately needed repair. It was one of the greatest losses of my lifetime, feeling that I couldn't remain in the church of my childhood. When I could once again be there—even for a while—it was heaven.

By far, I am not the only person on earth who has struggled with Catholicism (or perhaps your own, different religion) and how to relate to our religious upbringing as adults in a modern world. Most of my life I have known more “recovering” Catholics than practicing ones. By now, I have no beef with anyone who is in either camp, and not just because I’m old enough to remember meatless Fridays. It is a beautiful faith, and I envy those who can be there wholeheartedly. It must be wonderful to be a pedigreed Catholic or Baptist, Jew or Buddhist—to have a certain breed of spirituality that’s consistent with your internal beliefs that brings a community of support with it for the believer, not to mention activities and fun! I’ve had some of my best times ever in the church hall. (Catholics really know how to party!)

Jesus: Teacher and Radical

Still, a single religion isn’t big enough for me. My beliefs are more universal, and I see Jesus in a different light than more conservative or biblically literal Christians. I believe in less emphasis on Jesus dying for our sins and more on his teaching us how to live. The former is hard to take without inducing guilt for merely being alive, not a good psychological state from which to become all we can be—in the image and likeness of the divine. Jesus showed us how to put love in action. I doubt Jesus’ first choice for jobs would have been scapegoat. I believe he would have “saved” us whether or not he was executed, which was a political act. He saved us by showing us the path of compassion and universal love. The horrible way he died made his life more dramatic and memorable; we still talk about it all the time, over 2000 years later.

Even though conservatives have claimed him as their own, Jesus was a radical—a man who loved others regardless of class or status, saint or sinner. That was unusual in his day, and it’s too bad it’s still unusual now. He really rocked the status quo—why he was seen as a political threat, and why his life ended in capital punishment.

Jesus and his teachings remain the foundation of who I am; yet, I cannot deny or discard the boatload of blessings from other paths. Like an artist who wants to choose from all colors in the palette to make the most beautiful painting, I want my spiritual life to have the most color and beauty possible. That, for me, comes with universality—seeing the best in all paths and where they converge. It also minimizes prejudice. So much conflict and death has come out of religious differences; I can only feel that being ecumenical and embracing is the best possible thing I can do.

One thing I’m sure of: God has no religion.

Whatever way you perceive the spark of the divine, I believe Universal Love is so all encompassing; there couldn’t possibly be a “Catholics Only” heaven like I was taught in the 1950s. And if heaven’s truly a state of mind, which I also believe at many levels, then it’s also full of diversity—and not full enough!

Great Scotty!

If there’s a patron saint for spiritual mutts, in my mind, he’s Rev. Scotty McClennan. While his name might not exactly be a household word, a character based on him may have been to your house a lot in your life. Scotty is a good friend of cartoonist Gary Trudeau, and the character Rev. Scot Sloan in Doonesbury was inspired by him.

Scotty McClennan is a Unitarian Universalist minister (a denomination where I spent five years as an adult). He’s author of Finding Your Religion: When the Faith You Grew Up with Has Lost Its Meaning. That book has been a godsend for me, no pun intended. One of its neatest features is a spiritual evolutionary timeline. It goes from Stage 1 (Magic), where spirits, demons, fairy tales and a vision of God making everything happen through Stage 7 (Unity) where you feel community with all traditions and sense the divine in everything. As you can probably guess, spiritual mutts tend to be in Stage Seven or in 7th Heaven, as I like to think of it. I can’t recommend this book enough, if you’re struggling with how your religious roots fit into stretching your spiritual wings.

Another concept I heard at a Catholic women’s retreat also speaks to stages of spiritual evolution through the three persons in one God or Trinity. When we are young and need a simplified look at life, love, and God, we are likely to resonate most to God the Father. In the mid-stage, we spend much time identifying with Jesus, the Son. In the third and final stage, we resonate to the Holy Spirit—see God and signs of God everywhere.

Finally, there’s one more Great Scotty, his newest book, Jesus Was a Liberal: Reclaiming Christianity for All. It takes a new look at who Jesus was and how his teachings apply to all the big issues in modern ethical dilemmas and social justice.


As an astrologer and a writer on spirituality, I sometimes I think of myself as a missionary on the frontiers of outer space. I help many grateful people; it is moving, gratifying work. I feel privileged that people trust me to journey with them to the deepest, most magnificent parts of themselves. These places of purest possibility are often hidden by our own evolutionary limits and unexamined habit patterns.

This mission is hard to do from most religious traditions because many religions condemn astrology. At least my favorite, open-minded Catholic parish says every Christmas—out loud!—that the Magi were astrologers. I find it paradoxical that the Three Wise Men who attended the birth of the Christ child were Zoroastrian priest-astrologers, yet astrology tends to make the religious hierarchy nervous. I suspect they fear it has something to do with giving one’s faith over to something other than God. On the contrary, I see God and Creator in the movement of the stars, planets, and the power behind the astrologers motto, “As above, so below.” The Bible is full of references to the stars as signs, not to mention heaven/the heavens, starting with the Star of Bethlehem. Yet, sadly, many people have not gotten out of the Dark Ages with their vision of astrology. As most modern astrologers practice it, astrology is about following divine hints and an actual, personalized roadmap of how to get to heaven—metaphorically, becoming all you can be as embodied spirit.

I have noted before in other articles my discontent, growing up, with the word “vocation” being used strictly to denote a call to the religious life as a priest, nun, monk, or similar dedicated life path with formal vows. (That in my mind is “vowcation.”) Vocation, more broadly, is whatever pursuit contains a divine calling for you. Mine is astrology and eclectic spirituality. Given the “faith of my fathers” has not been very friendly toward either astrology or women in leadership roles, there’s not a fit.

But I don’t have to have a fit. In the past, I would have bemoaned and groaned about this as small-minded on the part of the Church. Now, thanks to Rev. Scotty and others who have re-attuned me to the concept of spiritual evolution, I recognize that both institutions and people are on different roads or stages of their spiritual quest. I knew many Stage 7’s (Unity) in my Catholic parish, but the institutional church is more Stage 3 (Dependence).

Symbols and Spirit

I think most of us realize that the true divide, when it comes to religion, is the chasm of Literal and Figurative. It’s difficult to argue with people who view the Bible as literal. I don’t try; I just respect their view from a different place on the spiritual spectrum.

Symbolism is the life’s blood of my own spirituality, and because writing is where symbols meet communication, I write.

My own spirituality is a sort of Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof speaking to God meets the Cosmic Bonfire of Creativity or the Tao in the channeled Michael Teachings. The latter contain one of my favorite ways of seeing the spiritual world, a creation myth I paraphrase in a December 2007 holiday blog post, Turn on the Lights!

Symbols, to me, are sparks of the God stuff everywhere; synchronicities, omens, hunches and inklings all are Spirit, taking whatever form it needs to leave a message. Spirit is a shape shifter, after all, and when she leaves messages in writing, it doesn’t matter if it’s on paper, a coffee cup, or graffiti on a construction site fence. I have found guidance in all those places.

Theological Outlaws

Recently, I learned a more humorous vision of Spiritual Mutts from astrologer Steven Forrest. He calls us Theological Outlaws. (See The Mountain Astrologer, June/July 2010.) That certainly matches my self-image as a missionary on the frontier of spirituality and outer space. Actually, the trait of being a spiritual outlaw is one of nine for people who have a special characteristic of their Moon in astrology. It’s called Moon out-of-bounds (OOB). Without getting into all the technical astrobabble, it means you have an overdose of lunar characteristics and no bounds to where you’ll go, because your feeling and spiritual life are colored limitless. We are mutts that can’t be collared or confined to a dogma run! And let’s not forget; dog is God spelled backwards, and multi-breed spirited types just get to God from a different direction.

(See my post Moonwalk: Cancer on the Radical Virgo, if you want to learn more bout OOBies.)

Pack of Mutts

The one thing that religion provides that spiritual mutts sometimes miss is the convenient access to community the church structure provides. The denominations where I’ve most spent time as an adult are Unitarian Universalist (UU) and Unity. I think I like religions that start with a U because it reminds me of a smile. Also, the word Unity fits my Stage 7 unity consciousness.

Even when I get my most spirited match when it comes to a church, I still find myself not quite fitting in. That used to make me sad, but I finally had this epiphany, and it wasn’t even January 6th. There are all kinds of ways we wild dogs run together. Some examples are Facebook, Twitter, our spiritual mutt blogs (astrology, spirituality), and our local metaphysical centers. So, we don’t have bake sales. But the community is still there, even when it’s often virtual. (Upside: No plate is passed and there are no committees to draft you.)

I’m starting to realize that I have community as a spiritual mutt/theological outlaw. Indeed, it’s mostly on the frontier of the Internet.

The other important insight: I used to feel I fit in nowhere; nowadays, I’m more apt to feel I can fit in most anywhere. Of course, like anyone else, I’ll choose to spend most of my time with people who are like-minded, but one of my favorite activities is church hopping. I love to go to different services, study various religions, and see Spirit from all angles.

Religion and Spirituality: Same or Different?

I’d love to hear your experiences in the Comments. Are religion and spirituality the same thing for you? (I think it can be “either/or” or “both/and.”)

One of my favorite sayings is, The best thing we can give our children is roots and wings. For me, religion is my roots, the recognition from baptism that I’m in communion with All That Is, everyone and everything under the sun and stars.

My wings span that God Has No Religion place, and yet, coming to terms with the part religion has played in molding me has been one of the most important passages of my life. While my ideas are dotted with Buddhist and Jewish concepts (I grew up in a Jewish neighborhood and absorbed much Jewish culture and perspective), my Catholic Christian core most fully formed who I am today, spirituality.

I’ve always been told by psychics that I’m an Old Soul. Wonder how that translates in dog years?


Photo credit: A Soulful Canine © Gabe Palmer

Monday, July 12, 2010

Raccoon Medicine

© 2010 by Joyce Mason

I’ve long been familiar with the Medicine Cards by Jamie Sams and David Carson which work as a tarot of animal totems. Whatever cards you draw, you need the “medicine” associated with that animal. It’s often stunning how these cards and furry friends bring light to an issue or suggestions how to proceed on your path.

I’ve also been familiar, for a long time, with the idea that if an animal comes into your sphere on a given day, it’s the “live” version of drawing a Medicine Card. For example, earlier this year, one of the ducks from our nearby creek flew down our chimney and into the fireplace! He was stuck flitting around madly until we intervened.

The poor thing, scared out of his wits and covered in ashes, finally let me grab him around the middle, disabling his wings temporarily from mad flying. Then I could put him on the deck. He flew off into the sunset. Later, I learned from my friend Larry, who’s part Native American, that Duck is about emotional comfort and protection. Ducks connect with feminine energies, the astral plane, and emotions. They have a strong sense of community. Community has been “up” a lot for me this year, and in a way, living on a creek, the ducks are part of my community. I was happy to help him.

Larry also said ducks remind us that it’s OK to return to the parts of ourselves that feel safe and comfortable. They teach us to be graceful when handling emotions and to drink deep from the waters of life. I love this! From a more punful place, I wondered if there was something I might be “ducking.” Since the duck landed in my fireplace, I also “got” that there might be some issues of personal burnout. But one of the things I read online about Duck that hit home most of all has to do with how ducks glide with grace in the water, while their little webbed feet are pumping like crazy underneath. It reminded me how I seem like I turn out projects and writing in the world that look polished, when underneath it all, I’m working like crazy. (I suppose that’s no big secret!)

Touched by Raccoon Medicine – Part 1

Last week we mourned the cutting down of one of our beloved live oak trees. We live above a stand of them, and the tree could not be saved. It threatened to take out our deck and bedroom. I discovered the big crack in the base of the tree thanks to a friend who happens to be a forest ranger. He also found a raccoon living in it! I've been so concerned about the raccoon and how it would relocate. A friend of mine who's a professional animal communicator and psychic was even "talking" to it for me. While my forest ranger friend thought the raccoon would find many potential homes along our green belt, it refused to come out as the workers cut the tree to just above its habitat.

The tree service worker opened the hole enough to peer in more deeply. That's when he discovered not just a raccoon but several babies. She chirruped at me, as if conversing—and she never seemed afraid but held her ground.

She did get through. My heart just went out to her and her babes, and we decided we would not cut the tree to the ground at this time. Through my psychic friend, I told her, "You can live here as long as you want until your babies are big enough for you to relocate on your own."

Later, I learned that the key words for Raccoon Medicine are “generous protection.” I generously protected the mother and children as she protected her babies. It felt good, and it reflected other issues in my life where generous protection was needed.

Torn by Raccoon Medicine – Part 2

I wish I could leave this story on the up-note of  that happy ending—and I wish it had left me there, too. As a reporter on the deeper meanings of life, I have to share the sad with the happy.

A day later, I got some devastating news from my neighbor who was harvesting the wood from our tree for his elderly mother’s wood-burning stove. One of the adult raccoons had been accidentally killed by one of the tree cutters’ saws. He had crawled up into a hollow branch, apparently frightened by the noise of the saws. There was no way they could have known he was there.

I was devastated. I had asked them to be so careful, and after receiving this bad news, I bawled my eyes out for the next 15 minutes. I don’t remember when I last cried so hard. I'm sure I was mourning not just the innocent raccoon but the losses of a lifetime.

Of course, I know there is nothing I could have done. I know it was an accident. Still, human intervention left a family without one parent. My husband, Tim, feels it was the mother that survived, because she’d be the one most likely to stay in the bottom of the tree with the babies. That’s my hope, although I can’t say I feel much better about leaving a family without a father.

Painful as Part 2 of my brush with Raccoon Medicine was for me, there was much I learned from it. We can’t control everything. There’s a larger order which may make no sense to us. I like to think I can save the world. Clearly, I can’t.

I couldn’t leave a dying tree ready to topple house, people, and animals, including both the wild and domestic ones that live on my property. I’ve also, lately, had some realizations about the parallel to diseased relationships. This episode taught me that sometimes, whether we want to or not, death is part of the pruning process. When we can remove the diseased or disfunctioning part of a relationship and it survives—wonderful. When we cannot and there is loss or death, we must move on. In its own way, that’s Spirit generously protecting us.

While I wish God/dess sometimes wasn’t so graphic; this certainly makes the point. As does the positive part of the story. I will always generously protect the people I love. It’s in my make-up. The part about generously protecting myself, I’m still learning.

Leave it to the last act of a dying oak tree to help convey these lessons. The Oak is considered in the Celtic tradition the cosmic storehouse of wisdom, embodied in its towering strength.

Who knew such drama was going on just below my house?


Photo Credit: THE RACCOON by Vladvitek |

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Getting the Clap

© 2010 by Joyce Mason

 No, I’m not speaking of sexually transmitted diseases—but if wondering helped catch your eye, I hope you enjoy the pun …

… because what I’m really talking about is applause. Some years ago, it occurred to me that when we clap at a concert, speech, religious service—what have you—we are sending little waves of heart energy to the object of our clapping. We clap our hands in front of our heart chakra. I’m sure I’m not the only person who considers this way cool. I can understand how this could become an addiction for those who love the stage!

Even if we clap over our heads—up, down, or sideways—our arms attach smack at the level of our hearts. Clapping sends waves of love and appreciation. Clapping is unbelievably energizing. It’s spontaneous to the beat of great music, the universal language and healer.

The Figurative Clap

OK, that’s the literal clap—applause. But what about the figurative clap, showing appreciation? I haven’t met the person yet that doesn’t want, need, or downright crave acknowledgement from others of his or her accomplishments. For many of us, it doesn’t have to be a big band and a parade. A quiet thanks, or “you did a great job” will do.

Then there are those who, like rock stars, crave recognition so much, they can’t climb high enough on the corporate or agency ladder, enter enough contests, or score enough trophies. I figure that must be exhausting. One of my college professors once said I was the biggest overachiever he ever met. (I thought he exaggerated.) Still, I can’t imagine adding a need for trophies to such “ambition.”

Questions to Ask Yourself

• How do I want to be recognized?
• What am I willing to do to get recognition?
• Am I adequately recognized at home, school, or office?
• Do I “clap back?”

Clapping for Yourself

Of course, it’s hard to give yourself a pat on the back or to jump up and down in a short skirt with a megaphone to cheer yourself on. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it.

In recent years, I’ve added a new ritual to my Winter Solstice favorites when celebrating with my Solsisters group. Before we “burn the old”—what we want to get rid of in our lives—we do a meditation to ponder our achievements in both the outer and inner world during the past year. You don’t have to wait till the cusp of winter to do it. In fact, doing this exercise twice a year—mid-year and at the end—would be perfect. Clapping for yourself in July will stoke your self-appreciation for the rest of the year. You can read the details of the Ceremony of Recognition in my article on Spirited Woman.

After my 2009 Winter Solstice meditation on self-recognition, I made myself a certificate. Last year, I most appreciated how I trusted my inner compass and connection with spirit to guide me. This alignment with the universal flow is unbelievably empowering. I thought you’d get a kick out of seeing how I “clapped for myself.” I signed it, dated it, and put it in a gold frame where I see it in my office every day. I can’t wait to see what certificate replaces it next year!

Clapping for Others

An attitude of gratitude underpins all manifestations in life. Tell life, “I love it!” and whatever “it” is, life will love you back and give you more. Same goes for people. Still, I don’t thank God or recognize others to get more; I do it because it’s the right thing to do. There is so much in life that can pull us under. It’s exciting to acknowledge what brings us up.

Rowdy Clapping for Others
When I first joined Toastmasters, I found the rah-rah and continuous clapping a bit much. However, I’ve grown to love it. It truly is contagious. All those heartwaves spinning around a room. The church I’ve attended most recently also is full of very raucous clappers. Enthusiasm. Optimism. Appreciation.

There was a wonderful song made popular in the 50s by various artists, “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands.”

So do you.


Photo Credit:
Happy Friends Applauding © Justmeyo

Saturday, July 3, 2010

Interdependence Day

© 2010 by Joyce Mason
All Rights Reserved

Just as Christmas, Chanukah and the winter holidays often slip into commercialization: the deeper meaning of the American 4th of July can easily get lost in picnics, fireworks, favorite foods, and good times with friends and family. US Independence Day marks our country’s separation from England to form our own independent nation.

This made me think about the meaning of independence and why Americans—and people from other independent nations—value it so highly. The initial reasons are obvious. No one wants to be under the control or thumb of a repressive government. I also want to talk about how we’re sometimes mistaken about what freedom means.

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was Choice." ~ Tom Robbins, Author

Freedom of Choice

I can’t count the number of times I have cited the Tom Robbins quote, above, probably because it incites my independent spirit. Many times, we think of independence as freedom from something. The USA’s freedom from England. In a divorce, our freedom from a constraining relationship. At core, to me, what freedom really means is being free to choose.

I think of the many new freedom milestones I have enjoyed as an American, many of them new in my lifetime, such as freedom of procreative choice and the freedom to have any kind of relationship I want among the full diversity of people I encounter.

Once an attorney told me that the law is the most basic level of what’s right and wrong, but there are many other levels of ethics. Those freedoms written into law are basic rights of citizens, said no more eloquently than in the Declaration of Independence: We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights.

The truest and highest levels of freedom, however, come through freedom of thought. In my nitpicking about prepositions, in this discussion, the highest levels of freedom are freedom “of”—ideas, beliefs, speech, and the choices that come from them.

“It’s a Free Country”

Freedom of ideas and speech are perhaps the most precious freedoms of all. Few Americans could tell you the content of any other amendments to the Constitution, but nearly everyone knows that the 1st Amendment addresses freedom of speech. More specifically, it prohibits making laws against the free expression of:

• Religion and exercise of religion
• Speech
• Press and news
• Peaceful assembly
• Petitions to government to redress grievances

No wonder we remember that “1!”

Any American—or citizen of any other free country—needs to think periodically about this freedom we may take for granted. This is a time to be grateful for them. We all know of countries where these freedoms do not exist, and this is the perfect time to pray for them or to send healing energy toward change. While freedom of religion implies freedom of beliefs, the real freedom I want to celebrate this day is freedom to think for yourself, the freedom to form your own ideas, and the freedom to “let freedom reign” by creating “free” atmospheres in your relationships.

Free Thinkers

If you count yourself in this crowd, we really tend to challenge the power-that-be and the status-quo! Those two hyphenate groups are often threatened by people who think for themselves and are outspoken in their views. Here’s where astrology helps me understand the continuum we live on between freedom and repression. The planet Saturn rules institutions, government, and the way it’s always been. Uranus represents rebellion, revolution, moving forward, genius and flash insights. Saturn tends to represent the past, while Uranus is the future.

In the US, we are future- and freedom- oriented. Where do you sit on this pole personally? Between the ways we’ve always done it and how things could be in an ideal future? One you help invent?

This is a meditation I invite you to begin in this post and on Independence Day.

Freedom of Thought

We’re sometimes our own worst “repressive government” in our minds. It’s tough, that pole between what is and what could be, between status-quo and change. Often, to get to what will be better for us, we have to give up in part or whole something that brings us comfort. It could be a job, home or marriage, a geographic location, a religion you’ve outgrown. The possibilities are endless.
Periodically, we need to do an important analysis, and I propose that Independence Day is, thematically, the perfect time:

• What no longer serves my growth?
• What no longer is true to my beliefs?
• Where do I have grievances that need to be addressed?
• What am I willing to give up to go from stagnation to the next era of my life?

Right now with the Big Change Transits in the sky, many of us are being challenged to make this assessment of personal freedom. The hardest part is facing this question: What or whom can I no longer live with? At least in its current form?

It’s reaching that cusp or turning point that can make or break a situation gone stagnant, infuse it with growth, or help you face the steps you have to take to reform it, whether the relationship is job, marriage, friendship, volunteer work—anything else that needs a tune-up to remain healthy and growing. The others involved will do or the situation will die and you’ll have a resurrection in these areas of life—new form.

I have been faced with a number of these decision points of late, and even if the potential of loss in some of them is scary, the potential for flying to new heights is more exhilarating than my fears. Relationships often rise to the occasion when these turning points are reached. Many times, they will never rise out of a rut without a booster shoot of “or else.” Good is sure to come out of it when we’re willing to trust Spirit, accept whatever consequences come with our truth, and begin moving on slowly but surely toward the new. This reminds me of the song, Me ‘n’ Bobby McGee:

"Freedom’s just another word for nothin’ left to lose." ~ Janis Joplin

When the current situation is more painful and unacceptable than the possibilities for the future, we’re living in Nothin’ Left to Lose.


We’ve all encountered—or been at times—independent to a fault. Here’s where many of us can use some reconsideration of what independence really means. It simply means to choose, not necessarily to choose to do everything by ourselves or in a way that doesn’t consider others. The best relationships, organizations, and human connections of all kinds come from creating an atmosphere where everyone can be himself or herself (independent) yet have the freedom to interact in pairs or as part of a group—among our best selves—to make life better. When that atmosphere exists, we each operate in our own brilliance—our Best Us. Imagine a world powered on that kind of interconnection and cooperation!

In astrology, Uranus—that freedom energy—rules the sign of Aquarius, often devoted to the good of the group. I hope I’ve offered a good case for why independent types at their highest expression are destined to become interdependent. Imagine a world where you’re in all your relationships only because you want to be.

We have the freedom to choose to support the uniqueness of everyone we know—and to welcome working together to meet our needs. People with a strong Uranus or planets in Aquarius are also utopian. That perfect world can’t exist until people are uniquely themselves, contributing their one-of-a-kind gifts. As we better ourselves and seek actualization, we make the world a better place—closer to Shangri-La. The pursuit of happiness is in each of our hands and all of our hands.

Happy Interdependence Day!


Photo Credit: Man Embracing Woman, American Flag in Background © Photograph... |