Crenshaw melons were on sale. Christina’s bare feet slapped against the icy hardwood floor of the old house. Crenshaw’s were John’s favorite and she wanted to surprise him this birthday morning. So she set the alarm, rousing her before first light just as Mr. Handler would be opening the produce store around the corner from their home. She was sure to be back before John was up and out of Tallulah’s room where he had slept for her fear of the Wanderling, some imaginary playmate Tallulah wasn’t always so happy to see. Tallulah complained he wandered into her room at all times, uninvited, even interrupting important teas with Pooh and Tigge. Sometimes at night, he’d keep her from sleeping unless John or Christina kept watch. Seems the Wanderling wanted nothing to do with her disbelieving parents.

Winter was squeezing the house hard, sneaking slyly through the windows and doors that John had promised to fix before Thanksgiving but never did. Now it was January in Wiscasset. Snow would have been welcome. At least it would have been pretty, better than this grey death that saturated everything. Christina was careful as she climbed down the creaking staircase. Her littlest, toe-headed Cameron possessed the ears of some jungle animal and Christina had no intention of bringing him with her. She’d be back in 15 minutes. She put on a pot of coffee from the beans they had brought back from their trip to Costa Rica in September. It was a second honeymoon. They stayed in a tree house that dangled high above aquamarine water and indigo fish, while their kids stayed behind in New Mexico getting to know their cousins better. Christina’s sister had moved there three years ago, after Jim left her because he was feeling strangled by the marriage. He sent money every month as the courts demanded, but the girl he was seeing wanted to live on the beach, so they both moved to Florida. He hadn’t visited Jimmy Jr. or Beth since escaping to Pompano.

She pushed her dirty blond hair up into a hat and threw on the warmest coat she had even though it was also the oldest. She glanced at her image in the mirror before leaving and swore she wouldn’t be caught dead outside again looking like this if God only got her home without seeing anyone she knew, particularly Margie Kaplan and that big, disapproving mouth of hers. She threw on a ghastly red lipstick she found in the coat pocket. Even the car keys were cold, which she decided to use even though it was only a ten-minute walk. In this kind of weather, every minute mattered.

Mr. Handler had put aside five of the best Crenshaws for her, knowing she was coming. The sun was just piercing the horizon as she left the store. It wasn’t warm but it was bright and gold and hopeful. Christina stood happy at her open car door, arms full of melons as the blinding bliss of the day kissed her naked face good morning. She could see her breath, even in the car, and rushed down the road around the corner for home. The bag of melons didn’t quite make the turn with her as they tumbled over the front seat. Christina reached for the largest one, which had carelessly rolled onto the filthy floor. She knew it was a stupid decision, but that thought only occurred to her as she applied it, and next thing she knew she was greeting the Farrell’s historic maple, judged to be over 100 years old.

John woke suddenly, hearing only some shadow of sound. Tallulah was still asleep, so John slipped his arm from under her small body and went in search of his wife. By now Cameron’s ears had detected movement in the Clayor household and was gurgling from his prison crib. John smelled the coffee percolating downstairs and took the time to change Cam’s diaper. By the time he finished, sirens were spoiling the morning air. He called to Christina as he walked down the stairs. The kitchen was empty and for no reason, John got a sick feeling in his stomach. He could see the faint flashing of Deputy Collins’ car. It must be him on duty this early on a Saturday. He walked out to the porch with a warm cup of honeymoon coffee. The trouble was down the road, near the Farrell place, just barely out of sight. Christina’s car was gone and although he was sure nothing was wrong, he ran to where all those twinkling lights were competing with the rising sun.

Danny was the first to grab him, trying to slow his arrival to the inevitable truth, but it was Bing Collins who told him it was Christina and that it was bad. His mouth suddenly got dry, so dry he could barely ask what happened and where she was. The ambulance workers were pulling her from the wreck, covering her whole body with some big white sheet, and what the hell did that mean he thought to himself. He saw a part of him walk over to that sheet and pick it up and see it wasn’t Christina but instead, some unimportant stranger that somehow was in her car. But the rest of him, the truth of him, was being held back by Danny and Bing. It was only then he noticed he was crying, screaming Christina’s name as the ambulance drove away.

“She’s gone, John,” Bing warned, letting the future out with all its unknown certainty. John walked over to the car, to the smashed window and crumpled front seat. To the steam rising on that cold day, rising like Christina’s soul up towards heaven. To the melons, all five of them. With his bare hands he killed each one, throwing them hard against that historic tree that had nothing more than a small crack on its proud-ass trunk.

We are all stuck in prisons of our own making. From difficult relationships to financial struggles, to the mundane habits that create frustrating blocks, every energetic pattern is connected. And once we discover this natural law, we can disconnect those unhealthy patterns that are keeping us unconsciously circling through life. And this discovery leads to change.

You do not have to struggle to change the big things in your life. Stay in your dysfunctional relationship. Go work at the job where you’re unhappy. Remain overweight. Don’t try to change these things. You won’t have to. They will change by themselves.

The trick is to make small changes everyday…simple movements, decisions, alterations that will crack the back of the big beasts that are weighing you down. By sneaking up on your big bad patterns, by nibbling away, life will shift, you will shift, and everything will transform effortlessly and permanently.

Your benign small patterns and habits are the scaffolding holding up the bigger patterns and addictions. By changing the small things you do every day you create cracks in the bones of the big beasts. So that eventually, as the scaffolding collapses, the big beasts no longer have support and they begin to wither and die. All you will have to do is be willing to let go.

I do not ask you to climb a mountain. I ask that you just take a different path around that mountain and notice what you find there. Try exercises in joy. At first they will feel unusual, uncomfortable, unnatural. How much joy have you experienced in life? Your old patterns will question why something so simple feels so strange. Part of you will not want to make even the smallest change. But your mind will know that is a foolish thought. And your body will have the courage to take those small steps.

As someone who is also walking that path, I am here to guide you through these initial steps. To encourage even the smallest change. To show what you are capable of. To begin, think about your life, your disappointments, and of the decisions you made that no longer serve you. When was the last time you stepped beyond your previous conditionings? Regardless of what you want to believe, your life is the result of the choices you’ve made…and those you were unwilling to make.

So, you need to learn to make new choices. And hopefully to see how much power you have everyday to change anything you want in your life. You have the power to change everything you want in your life. YOU HAVE THE POWER TO CHANGE EVERYTHING YOU WANT IN YOUR LIFE. But it does not come from anyone or anywhere else. It comes from you, right now, if you are ready to begin.

To start, you must know that you are loved exactly the way you are. There is no other way you have to be unless the need to change is coming from deep within yourself. Let no one else own that power over you. You are perfect. You simply want to evolve. And that what is what I am here to help you do.

The first thing to ask yourself is why do you want to change. Not what…why? Are you unhappy? Scared? Sick? Do you not like the way you look? Or is it about how much money you have? Is it because your children did not turn out the way you had hoped? Is your marriage suffering? Ask yourself questions so that you can understand why you want to change. It’s important that you want change for the right reasons. For your own growth and happiness. Not for someone else and not to feed a selfish ego or societal quest. I want to first bring you back to your true self. Let you spend time with who you were before others changed you….before you allowed others to influence who you were always meant to be. Until you rediscover your essential self, you cannot change into anything else that will sustain itself.

If you’re ready, you’ve reached a certain level of pain, which is causing you to take action…to move towards change…however hesitantly. I feel compelled, because of my own life experience, and what I witness around me, to begin this process and see where it leads. I encourage you to share your experiences. I especially ask that you keep a journal of all you do during this time. What are the small changes you make, how do you feel, where did you find your hidden habits, and what new shifts do you experience.

I also ask that you disconnect from the outcome of change. For now, release of old patterns is all you should seek, knowing that what is best for you will be the highest expression of that release. Soon, you will fill what has been released with something brighter.

So are you ready to remember who you are and micro-shift into a new life?

Okay. I have this book I wrote. It's called soul seeds. Actually, it was channeled to me but my agent doesn't really want to tell people that. So, it's "literary fiction," a novel filled with spiritual messages and secrets. It works on different layers of consciousness. The first layer is simply to be read as a novel. It's the story of a young African-American woman in the South during the late 1930's, and what she learns about herself and life. (As you can see, I'm a white woman from New York). The second layer reveals the spiritual messages and life teachings intertwined throughout the story. Like finding the courage to become who you are and not who others want you to be. The third layer is secrets...though that's not quite the right word... that only those of a particular frequency will recognize. Maybe its more like resonances, instead of secrets.

I didn't plan it like that...I just listened to this unexpected voice one day and allowed her to take me on a journey. Her being Addie Mae Aubrey. I'm hoping my agent finds a publisher. They are a wonderful group of people who loved Addie Mae and her story as much as I did. But I have this nagging feeling that soul seeds won't find its way to readers in the usual way. Maybe you're where I begin. Chances are publishers will only see the story and won't embrace the other layers. So I thought I'd tell you something about me and Addie Mae and see where that takes us.

Since her first whispered words, Addie Mae has been my guide into truth. Not just the kind you tell other people when you’re feeling righteous. But the hardest truth—the kind you tell yourself when you know there’s been a lie festering inside for a long time.

We’ve been together quite a while, Addie Mae and me—longer than I expected. She’s held me captive, holding my heart with her surprising voice. But because of her, I now see magic where there was only coincidence. Faith has replaced fear. And time has become the most miraculous gift. There is always a choice, a chance for change. Eternity resides in every moment.

Addie Mae and I were joined by love, by a contract I suppose we made many lifetimes ago—or maybe merely in my imagination. We never know these things for sure until we join the invisibles. But if I created her, so has she created me. I am as transformed by her presence as anyone else who ever entered my life. Of course, it wasn’t all her. I had to be willing to listen, take the bold leaps, rise above the obstacles and insecurities and face fear and the darkness of uncertainty. Loneliness often flirted with me. Still, I was blessed. She was always there, reminding me that the best journeys take us through fog and fury as much as glory. And that loneliness is merely the birthplace of a new life.

We are here to share our journey together in hopes that yours may be made easier. Many are awakening to truths that for years have been silent. A vague uneasiness creeps through your days. New life scratches at your soul. Some will know Addie Mae, have heard her wise whispers. Maybe they came as other voices, or discarded thoughts, or small sparks of courage that had no space to burn.

soul seeds is also a call to those who love, to experience how this love connects us all, through time and geography, race, gender and age, beyond the small mindedness of cultural and societal conditionings. You are now part of the journey. By reading these simple words you are opening a window to a powerful place you can’t yet see. I think that for those who follow Addie Mae’s voice as I did, listen to the wisdom tucked within her words, you will witness magic, experience great awakenings and find your way home to the person you were always meant to be. In her strength, you will discover your own.

She may have been with me all my life, in the shadows, waiting for me to catch up with her. There have been dreams. Right from the start I wondered where Addie Mae was leading me. It took too long to realize she was giving me a gift. Never before had I surrendered so much trust to one person and accepted such struggle. Sometimes only by looking back on something can we see its grandeur, what it gave us. Moments become monuments that if we recognize, create new beginnings. I somehow sensed that this was my opportunity, my moment and regardless of the outcome, I had to follow her words wherever they led. Now I know that despite everywhere else she took me, all along the way, she was always leading me to you.

Often it seemed our lives ran side by side; hers as a memory, mine unfolding with each stuttered step. Even though we were strangers occupying a different time and space, we shared existence through the emotion of our experiences. But then something happened. Either by chance or fate, our worlds touched and Addie Mae, having gone before me and the wiser for it, saw me flailing in the distance and generously decided to share what she knew. But I was still asleep, too earth-bound to hear. So she silently guided me into experiences that brought me closer to her understanding, closer to her wisdom, to the wisdom of the invisibles. Close enough so that on one magical day, like two planets within each other’s orbit for the first time, we were close enough for me to hear her whispers. And I was finally ready to listen...

I’ve been thinking a lot lately. And, wondering if that’s such a good idea. The mind is a cunning suitor, makes me feel brilliant, informs me I’m important and special and right about ohhh so many things. I’m lucky. Mine is exceptionally agile, negotiates curves well, plucks me from dangerous waters, and creatively constructs the pretty future that I expect for myself. When you have a strong mind, it makes you believe you need to do something big with it.

But it’s cold. And has no respect for my time. This restless companion keeps me awake at night, nagging over something I should have done. Or did wrong. It complains about the way I look. It whines that it doesn’t have enough. It never seems to be satisfied. Or it’s so smug…and really loud. Then, just when I’m ready to give up on it, demand it shut up, my mind does something miraculous that makes me fall in love with it all over again. I’ve seen it perform great feats of magic. It’s given me beautiful words to say at the proper time. I’ve harvested diamonds of cultivated knowledge from its fertile soil that I didn’t even know were there. Still, I give it much too much power over me.

I’m not alone. I see many people’s foolish minds choking their spirits. I witness the worry, the fear; the callous lies it whispers to them on street corners and in elevators, or over lattes at Starbucks. The mind summons our fears, incubates them in one of the seven deadly sins, and then sends its newborn disciple out into the world to build monuments to it. Through the mind and its shadow thoughts all the suffering in the world is birthed.

Waiting patiently for me to notice through all of this self-absorbed chatter is my knowing heart. I wish I had the courage to spend more time with this quiet sage. To listen to it’s soft beat of clarity and purpose. My heart knows that I’m perfect. It loves even the cruelest stranger on a rainy winter night. It is happy all the time. It wants for nothing because it understands I have everything I need. And unlike my racing mind, it is content in stillness and the sacred truth within. It never lies. It only loves.

The mind constantly conspires against my heart because it recognizes its death in it. It makes me believe that my heart can’t be trusted; that my worth resides only in its own polished intellect. But experience has taught me otherwise. My heart gives me the courage to make bold leaps across treacherous canyons of fear. And it is in these uncertain leaps, I am given back to myself and born again. I’ve always been happiest following my heart. When I act from this place of light, the crust of others’ expectations crumbles from my being and I remember who I really am.

I like my mind. There’s not another one like it on the planet. And I’m fascinated by other dancing minds for that same reason. But it’s a raucous child, grasping, intent on staying within the narrow walls of its inexperience. My heart is the wise elder, quietly revealing the possibility waiting beyond these walls. So in 2008, I will entertain my mind and love it for all it does for me. But this year, particularly this year, it is my heart that will define me and determine everything I will become.

I've just returned from a two-week pilgrimage to the New Mexican wilderness. Most of my time was spent in and around a little gem of a town, Silver City. It’s Geronimo’s birthplace and Billy the Kid’s childhood home. The land is steeped both in history and great beauty. It’s still undiscovered, though it was chosen by Oprah as one of the 10 Best Small Towns in America.

I also spent four extraordinary days at a Shaman’s retreat at The Anima Center, a bewitching wilderness sanctuary nestled deep in the Gila Mountains. No running water, no electricity, no indoor toilet—it was truly an adventure. Resting on 80 spectacular acres, surrounded by 3.4 million more of the most remote land in the country, I really had no idea what to expect when I arrived. I stumbled onto the Anima Center site quite by accident while roaming online for an antidote to New York’s anxious masses. I instantly knew this was the place I was to visit to renew my vows to Gaia, to the earth. Of course, I had to overcome obstacles. My own fears and those around me who thought I'd disappear into a cage in the ground or the belly of a bear.

I told myself I was heading west to make changes to my novel, soul seeds. And I know this experience helped on the long road I have traveled with Addie Mae. I have now completed the final edit of soul seeds, and it is in the hands of my agent at Namaste Literary. But what I really needed was to immerse myself back into the earth that feeds my soul, to sense every molecule and claim my rightful place there again.

After the pretty two-hour drive north from Silver City, I bounced down a long, wet dirt road and parked the car. This was the point of no return. With no electricity and no cell-phone service, I was on my own. I had to hike a mile or so through the primitive canyon, over seven testy river crossings, high and mighty from recent rains. All along the way, I felt chunks of decaying stress fall from my being to be anointed by the river’s cool breath.

The retreat’s group had gathered there from all over the country, from different walks of life but with the same commitment to support the planet. It’s amazing how much you have in common with strangers who share a deep love of the land. After being advised of the potential pitfalls of wilderness living—mountain lions and bears and rattlers, oh my!—we relaxed into what the earth and it’s compassionate custodians, Jesse Wolf Hardin, Loba and Kiva Rose, were there to teach us.

I felt the eyes of nature on me everywhere I went, whether meditating, surrounded by Mugwort in the fairy circle or hiking over the rocky arroyo. The most powerful experience was our journey upriver the night of the full moon; to the sacred ground Wolf so generously shared with us. We snaked through the high grass together in cloud-draped moonlight—a gift from the gods who temporarily stayed the monsoon rains. Walking in silence, listening to a distant flute's sweet promise while the cathedral rocks patiently waited on our arrival was intoxicating. We built a fire and gathered around it as generations of Indians had done before us. Loba's celestial singing, Wolf's shamanic drumming, Kiva's practiced wisdom, along with the energy of our gratitude conspired to raise our vibration. I could feel the pleasure of the land for our attendance.

Next morning, I walked back there alone and was privileged to witness in daylight what I had felt by moonlight. As I started off, four turkeys rose from the tall brush alongside the river...hundreds of grasshoppers snapped around me like firecrackers. Hummingbirds, butterflies and dragonflies floated everywhere. Footprints of elk stained the water’s edge. Above me, living within the rocks was a powerful Indian chief, an eagle in flight and a group of what seemed like wise, cosmic Elders. The river shook. Holy dirt clung to my bare feet. I didn't want to leave.

I thought about staying longer to feed what was just beginning to stir within me. But by late afternoon, I knew it was time to leave and return to my own world. Though my soul belongs to the wooded canyons, my hedonistic body craves the comforts of civilization: its hot showers, home delivery, and thick, Egyptian cotton towels. This was the first time in my life I've allowed my body to live so close to the land and experience such raw surrender. It was challenging but brought me into the moment and into the truth in a way that no hot shower ever could.

It's difficult to decide which moments mattered most because every one of them, whether profound or forgotten, held great importance. It had been a fairy tale. The magic was real, rooted in love, fueled by earthen energy. And secrets were revealed to me that are still simmering. But I've had enough mystical experiences to know the memory of them dissipates like a fragrance and soon I'll be questioning even my most certain experiences there.

All ten of us who found our way to the Anima Center feel blessed to have been called by this sacred place. We wished we could adequately communicate our experience to those we love, to strangers seeking a guidance on a conscious path. So much of what we truly yearn for can be found on the land and in our relationship with it. But we understood that for all we might say, for all the photographs we would offer; nothing could express what actually happened to us there. All we could do was make a pledge to share this place with others and trust that someday they would find their own way to this glorious piece of earth or to anywhere in nature that calls to them. Because for all of our searching, everything we need to know about life is out there waiting for us under our own bare feet.

We are all in the midst of unprecedented change. From our institutions to personal lives, from technology to the economy, there’s an ominous rattling of the familiar. New life scratches at the weakening walls of conventional structures. Those of us who market, build brands and bring ideas to consumers face unprecedented chaos, competition and opportunity.

Awakening among millions of people around the world is a restless consciousness, a stirrng of sleeping souls. Desiring solutions and balance in their hectic lives and highly receptive to new ideas, this extraordinary audience—the potential of which lies within every human being—is not only seeking but embracing innovative and alternative concepts in food, finance, spirituality, health, entertainment, leadership, life.

LOHAS, (www.lohas.com), tracks the accelerating rise of this “conscious consumer” and the $228.9B marketplace for goods and services that appeal to people who value health, the environment, social justice, personal development and sustainable living—a marketplace expected to surge to $845B by 2012. Although it skews towards women, this large, yearning and loyal market segment cuts through traditional demographics and taps into the most meaningful mass trend to ever emerge globally. Once understood, the consumer “dial” can be turned up to appeal to a smaller but highly influential core audience or dialed down to engage a broad mass market.

The first swell of this transformative tsunami has hit corporate shores. Like Kombachu mushrooms, health and wellness divisions are sprouting within food companies. Corporations offer yoga and meditation to employees. Hybrid cars are status symbols. Health & Beauty brands are making it real. Walmart is going organic! The New Age has suddenly become The Now Age.

Extraordinary marketing opportunities accompany every shift in cultural consciousness. Consumers question traditional belief systems, institutions and relationships, including brand relationships. Who am I now and does this brand reflect my needs, values and desires? Whether marketing wealth management services or wellness products, talking to baby boomers or their elusive echo boomers, the best brand solutions launch people on their own personal journey towards better, healthier, more rewarding lives.

This is The Next Big Thing. Within five years, the conscious consumer will stand alongside the advent of computers, the birth control pill, and the explosion of the internet as monuments that transformed our existence and not only how consumers consume, but who they are. Companies who recognize this tectonic shift, expand their marketing perceptions and brave the unknown, will gain unprecedented social and financial leadership while creating more authentic, meaningful relationships with their consumers. Where will you be?

Please contact me at Lynnda@LynndaPollio.com for more information about my marketing, branding and content development work with the conscious consumer.

But surely there is wonder. And many will come and fall and rise again with chins held high. Quietly the world will turn and thought would follow them and become them. So what of the patient ones who wait in the corners and along the edges? Who would come for them? Or will they spend eternity waiting for the moment that became another and another too soon? The conscious cosmic mutt scratches at the door of unknown certainties, howls at a moon soaked in spirit, dripping its silver sweat onto earth.

It is not as others but is of others with its snout in the ground, ears to the stars, listening to ancient ones, yelping the word of god. The tree understands and the waters and the turtle resting in the shadow of that tree. The man does not and wails for his pain but leaves not his place at the top of the hill with his foot caught in an old trap of his own making. He clutches his truth, hiding from choice.

The buttercups have died under tired weight, yet tiny blossoms beg from beneath the dirt, forgiving. Sanguine sunsets seduce barely noticed. You are not alone. The man does not believe and cries, surrounded by love that cannot touch him for his heart is not willing, captive of a mind torched by lies. But still the patriot sun rises yet again and warms his hard face and holds to its promise.

There is nothing beneath your skin that does not yearn to be with the other. No fear is too great. No action too strong. No time too enduring. Yet you sit invisible to all you know. To the secrets excreted in dreams, in sadness and in joy, in the detail of leaves passed unseen. Peep from one eye then the other lest the windows stay shut and dust gathers so deep in corners you cannot breathe. How bright those corners can be!

Three crows gather on a mountain behind the sun, ready to take you back to the place forgotten by life. We will be there as you please, when you have remembered the wonder and what you have been here. These sorry trials will be your victory though old misers deny their worth. To have lived. And what was done through the years to know it? Do not listen but to cherry blossoms birthing in spring and perfect snow falling on darkened lakes and all that is of life and its goodness. You are as you should be, holding the key tight. Open.

You have not been forgotten. It is but for you to remember.