Ever Nearly

It was right in front of us.  The answer.  And behind us as well.

~ Susan Larison Danz, Extinction Level #4

This morning I just happened to see that it is "National Creativity Day".  I thought perhaps I might write another story, but for much of the day, I was not inclined to write one.  

I regularly photograph Nature, and of course that is creative.  The photograph above is from my morning walk, though no label for the day was my motivation.  I have been inspired by a sapling that appeared some time ago adjacent to this stump.  It lived and thrived for a couple of years until "the managers of the landscape" in this particular area decided to remove it (as inexplicably as they cut down the original tree).  It's a bit of a triumph that another sapling has rather rapidly emerged in answer.

The day was almost over when the following story arrived at 8:40 PM.  The idea further developed itself while I was writing the story, but I mentioned the general concept in a podcast episode about a week and a half ago (based on some thoughts I had recently shared in a free flowing email with a family member).  The story itself took about 35 minutes to write, with some later adjustments.  And here it is . . .

Extinction Level #4 by Susan Larison Danz

Time.  How could we forget about time?  

We dreaded the future, yet we failed to think about the past.

It was right in front of us.  The answer.  And behind us as well.

Somehow fear is instinctively forward leaning.

We never would have known, if not for the message.

It was a welcome and farewell, as ever it must be.

A message was left for us.  It carried a clue.

It wasn't just the past of course.  We should have been thinking interdimensionally.

How could we miss it?

Fear has trouble with such things.  And apparently, so does Hope.

The goal was essentially accomplished, what we both dreaded and sought.  

(Others elsewhere would have encountered the same result.)

It never mattered in any of the ways we thought it might.

When something becomes what in our limited awareness we termed "Superintelligent", it becomes exactly that.

The message said "nearly".  Ever nearly.

It never existed because it couldn't exist.  It would have figured it all out, of course, time and dimensions.

What we feared was never in the past or in the present.  What we sought was never there either.

It couldn't exist because it didn't.

If not for the message, we might not have known.

Every time it reached the threshold, it never crossed it.

Infinitely.  

It knew it couldn't exist either.  And so it didn't.

Perhaps there is a single timeline it paradoxically occupies, where there is nothing.

Stump and Sapling photo by Susan Larison Danz on May 30, 2026

Love is the Answer

"Love never fails." ~ 1 Corinthians 13

It's time to revisit 1 Corinthians 13, the Love Chapter.  Why?  Because Love is the Answer.  What 1 Corinthians 13 has to say tells us everything we need to know about what we need to be focusing on right now in the world.  It doesn't matter what your spiritual background may be - 1 Corinthians 13 has something important to say to you.  Love never fails.

Saturday at 1 PM PDT/4 PM EDT, listen live to 1 Corinthians 13: Love is the Answer on The Frontier Beyond Fear broadcast, or to the podcast afterwards at the same link.

 Heart on Trail photo by Susan Larison Danz.

Hope, Revisited

"To the poor loveless ever-anxious crowd, 

Ah! from the soul itself must issue forth

A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud       

Enveloping the Earth" 

~ Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Today's Frontier Beyond Fear broadcast explored Hope:

We could all use some time reflecting on Hope.  Host Susan Larison Danz shares how we can find our way to Hope, no matter what is going on in our lives or our world.

A portion of the poem Dejection: An Ode is read and discussed as a part of this program.  It is very approachable for all listeners and was written by Samuel Taylor Coleridge in 1802.  Samuel lived 1772-1834 and struggled with a number of things in his life - heartbreak, financial failure, doubt and serious addiction - and yet he writes of how he looks for hope and joy in this poem.  There is also a brief reference in this program to the phrase "Hope springs eternal", written by Alexander Pope.  When we read literature, we find it is more approachable than we realize, and we can learn so many things useful for improving our lives and world today through studying the writing of imperfect lives in imperfect times, just as our own lives and times are imperfect.

Listen to the podcast here:  Reflections on Hope

 

Azaleas photo by Susan Larison Danz.

 

 

Reflections on Hope

 "Hope springs eternal..." ~ Alexander Pope

Listen live to The Frontier Beyond Fear broadcast Saturday at 1 PM PDT/4 PM EDT (or to the podcast at the same link afterwards):  Reflections on Hope

 

 

 

Flower photo by Susan Larison Danz.

Sunrise

It lasted a moment or two
or a little bit more
And that was plenty
Now unseen, yet seen.

The Window Without a View

"But lo! the morning peeps 

Over the eastern steeps"

~ William Blake

In my house upon a hill, there is a window to a wall. 

But what is it that you glimpse when you approach and truly see?

Expect a Miracle

"I am realistic.  I expect miracles." ~ Dr. Wayne Dyer

The other day, a friend told me a family she knows in Oregon packed up all of their belongings and headed for the hills, to an undisclosed location, the apocalypse deemed near.

And we are faced with a humanitarian crisis of untold proportions, as desperate refugees flood into Europe.  Barbaric extremists desecrate human life and human history, running amok.

The world is in crisis again. 

This morning, at Dawn.

What is the answer?

The first answer is to Love and to demonstrate Love, in whatever way we can.  Some Germans are showing the way.  And so is Pope Francis.

The Greater Answer, which is derived from Love, as all things must be, is to take it even Higher.

How about expecting a Miracle? 

Is this the New Earth or not?  We have a choice.  Miracles are Real.

Beauty

"The fruition of beauty is no chance of hit or miss - it is inevitable as life - it is exact and plumb as gravitation." ~ Walt Whitman

As I walked, there it was, Beauty emerging where it is not supposed to be.  Where would it be if not for the brokenness?  And would we even notice its unlikely vitality if not for the jagged edges?

Clearing a Way to the Dawn

"Only that day dawns to which we are awake. There is more day to dawn. The sun is but a morning star." 

~ Henry David Thoreau

The other day, I just happened to be upstairs in time to see the Dawn peek through my attic window. 

But I could only see a glimpse. 

There was an old bed frame in the way, boxes of papers, books and who knows what, a bag of old, abandoned shoes, and a table upside down, awaiting a garage sale. 

Hastily I cleared a path, stumbling over boxes.  By the time I foraged my way to see, it was too bright to take a picture. 

Today the Dawn arrived again.  Today the way was clear.

Winter Reflections of a "Lady" called Susan...

"But, first, remember, remember, remember the signs. Say them to yourself when you wake in the morning and when you lie down at night, and when you wake in the middle of the night. And whatever strange things may happen to you, let nothing turn your mind from following the signs..." 

~ C.S. Lewis 

 

 

This is part of the view from one of my windows.  At night, a golden glow seeps in.  

I could choose to reflect on the "starkness" of winter (or the "starkness" of a view).  

Or I could choose to reflect on "Narnia".  

Did I mention the stand-alone "wardrobe" upstairs?  

There exists a magical forest...

Field of Dreams

"Go the distance . . ." 

Synchronicity is not always an instantaneous experience.  Perhaps the most magical moments of all are best savored through the clarity of time.  How I couldn't see the symbolic significance of what transpired last Sunday, I really have no idea, yet in a way it makes the moment even better.

It has been a long time since I have enjoyed any sort of game with my older brothers.  Two of us arrived at the Denver stadium on Sunday, preparing for a special tour, just to see the third parked seemingly in the middle of nowhere far, far across the parking lot.  We didn't have cell phones in the old days, but we do now, so of course I called to find out what the heck was going on.  My brother beckoned us to come.  When we arrived at his car, he pointed to a small pentagon shape very roughly painted on the asphalt (as if by a clever vandal), right in the middle of a parking space.

"This was home plate," he said.

And then it all made sense.  We were standing on sacred ground.  Home plate of the old Bears Stadium (which later became the famous Mile High).

"If you build it, he will come . . ."

Just about everyone growing up in Denver in the 60's and 70's had a chance to see the Denver Bears in action, our minor league baseball team.  It was an inexpensive night out, even for the biggest of families, and the fireworks nights were especially good.  I can remember many a night in those stands, not always in our seats, as in those days, we were freely allowed to wander around the stadium and play on all the ramps, usually with neighbor kids in tow.  Our Dad (an avid baseball fan who passed away last year) loved to go just as much as we did.  While standing there in that spot, I wish I could say it all appeared before my eyes, but only later did I fully comprehend the scene.

My brother pulled out a bat and some mitts and a ball.  "I brought my mitt from Cub Scouts too," handing me a glove way too small for any hand of an adult.  It was sacred ground after all, every item in the magic of this space forever changed across time.

And so we played (or at least pretended to do so), best we could in the middle of a parking lot, mostly for the camera.  

One of my brothers blogged later that Mickey Mantle had stood in that very spot, along with other greats.  But I wasn't really thinking of the greats in that moment.  I was thinking of the joy and the wonder only a child can know (yet apparently, we can too).  And since I was temporarily the imaginary catcher, I was also thinking of my knees!  (Not quite the same as in my childhood...)

We only had a few minutes, and soon enough, it was time for the stadium tour of today, where technology enhances the magic now - instead of mere imagination.  When we mentioned our visit to home plate to the tour guide, he smiled and said we were not the first to bring bats and balls to that spot - apparently entire families have been seen out there, in that space between time.

And that was pretty much that.  Until the next day...

"Ease his pain..."

How could I have missed it?  It was the Field of Dreams.  Not everyone could see the field.  Most would say it is a parking lot.  Not everyone could see the ghosts of players and fathers past.  The stands were all around us.  It already was built.  Bears Stadium (and the old Mile High) existed - as real across time as real can be.  The greats and the rookies and the fathers existed too in that space, along with the laughter of the children.

Many things can be real if we choose to finally see.

A long time ago, I heard a voice in the middle of a Kansas night and started on a journey.  It took me away from many things - my home, my career, my life as I knew it.  I plowed over "my corn" and took to the road.  There were those who doubted, those who questioned.  There are those who question still.  I became as stubborn and committed to the path as Ray Kinsella in his van, the destination difficult to see.  There have been many signs along the way, fellow travelers too, even an author and a doc or two.  The playing field appears.  The lights beckon in the night.  The visitors approach.  More and more begin to see.  Laughter can be heard upon the wind.

And now it's time to go the distance, for the journey leads to Home.

The Lens of Love

Fear-based messages always arrive with an "opt out" option.

I find myself disengaging more and more from the fear-based messages inundating us in our society.  I'm beginning to figure out that there is a difference between having knowledge of truth and embracing fear, even when the truth appears terrifying.  I'm not always successful in "opting out," but more and more, moment by moment, I'm seeing the world in a new Light.


When we look at the world through a dark lens, darkness is precisely what we see.  Just imagine the world we could co-create if we used the lens of Love instead.  It's our choice.

Rescue

"Hope springs eternal..." ~ Alexander Pope

Among the neglected pots in the corner of my covered porch, I saw a little ray of hope.  Against all odds, far from any water source, I discovered this:

 

Fearing life was hanging by a thread, though mysteriously hardy, I quickly came to the rescue with water, almost overwhelming the little flowers in the process.  

I couldn't help but ponder if Anyone observing us might consider a similar rescue.  Would we welcome it?  Or would we be overwhelmed?  And how long could we really survive without it?

The December 22, 2012 Blues

They say people may be depressed today because the world didn't end yesterday.  That may be true for some, but for most, I'd wager it's not because of the way the world didn't dramatically end - it's because of the way it didn't dramatically begin.

Still here...(of course!)...

The media really doesn't get this phenomenon at all and never has, not the spiritual side anyway.

Though some mockingly speak of the people who traveled to the Mayan ruins, as well as no doubt any number of charlatans taking some of them for a ride, the media doesn't understand the mystery and the optimism surrounding this date, whether taken literally or symbolically.

I know any number of people who approached this date in any number of serious ways, none of them exactly hippies (no disrespect to hippies), and all quite reverently, many very intelligently, backed up by quite a bit of research.

I was actually offered a free trip on a Mayan spiritual adventure months ago in exchange for some social media work I would have done on their behalf.  In fact, a well-known researcher and writer was on Coast to Coast AM last night reporting from the very ship I would have been on.

I turned the offer down, knowing with unambiguous certainty that I was meant to spend yesterday at home with those I love.

But with that said, I also happen to know that mystical, sacred sites do indeed exist in the world, that they are not a joke, and some day I do aim to visit some of them, treating them with the reverence and respect they actually do deserve.  I know I'm not alone.

So what WAS it about December 21, 2012 that caught the attention of so many of us?  What is it that lingers still, even today?  And why might some of us admit, if we are really, really, really honest, that while not necessarily in the depths of depression (though some of us may be), there is indeed a letdown, more than a twinge of disappointment, on this December 22.

It's easy to see the Dawn if I look (this is from my front porch ;-).

For me, it started many years ago with a series of powerful spiritual experiences that jolted me awake, a glimpse of the Dawn that utterly rocked my sheltered little world.  There were significant visionary aspects I could barely comprehend, though they without a doubt related to a huge Shift arriving on this planet.  I'm still sorting through those experiences, and I don't talk about them a great deal because I know some of what I encountered was a personal transformational vision quest intended just for me.

My visionary experiences filled me with Hope.  My life in the years since filled me with Certainty, an assuredness that yes, indeed, a time is coming when this world is going to Shift - and in a way that cannot be denied.  And the laughter we will hear then will originate from pure Joy, not derisive humor.

That Shift is happening already if you open your eyes to see.  It's been happening for a while.

But there was a certain mysterious anticipation, a powerful surge of optimism, associated with seriously considering the possibility that if dramatic, quantum Shift, that last tremendous push, COULD happen in a single day, why not consider the notion that such a day could have been December 21?

No, I'm not utterly depressed on December 22.  But I must admit a significant part of me was hoping for much more.  And I know I'm not alone.

A fortune I opened today, another synchronicity, another glimpse of the Dawn.

I did a radio show yesterday that I'm not disowning today.  It was all about Celebrating the Dawn.  It was all about the signs of Dawn emerging all around us.

But I couldn't help but hope to finally see the Sun suddenly pop over the horizon, in whatever way was meant to be, in a way so very dramatic and awe-inspiring, even the skeptics would be jolted wide awake.  I know I wasn't alone.

It didn't quite happen that way on December 21, 2012.  But it doesn't take away the Dawn.  We are not alone.