The Beatles came at the beginning of my formative years.  I have older siblings so there was other music introduced to me before the Beatles.  I liked some of their earlier stuff but never quite got into the screaming, hormonal condition of so many fans.  Previously music was not so much about the lyrics for me as it was about the notes.  Playing an instrument in school gave me the opportunity to feel into the music itself.  There were lots of songs I sang around the house, singing parts with mumbled sounds when the words escaped me, dancing with the record covers in my hands so the words were close, and then there was one song whose phrases just stuck.

“Yesterday ”

All my troubles seemed so far away,
Now it looks as though they’re here to stay,
Oh, I believe in yesterday……

There’s a shadow hanging over me,
Oh, yesterday came suddenly.

I knew this was about a love gone wrong but that is not what I heard or what struck me deepest.  I was 12.  The concept of love that had come and gone was non-existent.  I hadn’t been bitten yet!  It was the concept of ‘Yesterday’.  How it was a specific time in space.  It wasn’t just about memories.  It marked events.  It could mark you.  It carried a “Danger, Will Robinson, Danger sign.  It became a rite of passage for me.  “Yesterday all my troubles seemed so far away.”  Yet there was another aspect to Yesterday.  It could change today and tomorrow.  It could return to haunt you or drive you further.  It was something to be reckoned.  It could stop you.  You could get stuck in it.

Allowing yesterday to determine your identity left you stuck and only partial of the self you were.  It does become a shadow, casting out the light of today, the mist of tomorrow, holding you captive.  There is an art to turning yesterday into today.  It isn’t an art only open to lyricists, painters, and writers.  Oh no, it is available to all who want to live to the fullest possible self.

As others fell deeper in love with John, Paul, and George I fell to pondering their lyrics and those of others.  I took to analyzing all songwriters as my world grew.  What were they doing with these lyrics?  Where they writing with a higher energy bringing metaphors and symbols to waken me, stop me in my tracks, push and pull me when I grew tired, or were they just singing what I felt deep inside.  There were some genres I did not resonate with no matter how often I listened.  Some music struck me but the words repulsed me.  It was those who wrote with the same cadence of essence as “Yesterday”.  The same mysticism in the lyrics of that song appeared in other songwriters.  It was those songs that stuck a chord deep within me.  A chord that cautioned me on miring myself deeper when I should be moving forward.  Years later I can still feel that mark of time, that essence of those simple lyrics whenever it is played.

Music played its secondary roll of fun, stages, and road trips all through my life as it does for all of us.  I can dance for hours, sing at the top of my lungs completely out of tune, joyous in the moment every time I hear music.  It brings back days of youth, special occasions, love won and lost but it is the mysticism that holds my soul.  It is the timelessness, the universality and connectedness.

Awake your soul!  Let Yesterday be yesterday!







This word held a very specific meaning for me.

1re·sis·tance noun \ri-ˈzis-tən(t)s\ : refusal to accept something new or different

: effort made to stop or to fight against someone or something

: the ability to prevent something from having an effect


Resistance came first into my life as an effort made to stop or fight against many things.  As a young school girl, I fought against the demands of the nuns to change myself into their perception of a good Catholic girl.  It was a constant for me to question the dogma. I also resisted their inference that there was only one way into heaven.  Upon transferring to public school, I resisted those who thought I wasn’t popular or pretty enough to join their group.  I helped others resist those who excluded them.  I also resisted abuse mentally and physically.  This meaning for resistance carried through civil rights, equal rights, and anti-war demonstrations.  It figured prominently through most of my life for others and myself.

When the Borg entered my space I immediately noticed myself react to their famous saying, “Resistance is Futile”.  My battle cry was resurrected!  They were wrong we would not be assimilated!  Dr. Who had been shown the effects of resistance and they would soon learn its effects.

Eventually I was introduced to the effects of resistance to accepting something new or different.  It was a strange encounter.  For the majority of my life I had been busy resisting oppression, abuse, and assimilation and now I had to re-exam my reaction to resistance.  My first encounter to writing was met with strong resistance.  Working through it allowed me to see how resistance figured very prominently in everyone’s life.  Resistance to love, intimacy, a new job, a deeper understanding of who we are, and changing our minds to allow for another point of view are all daily examples of resistance.

As I began to make a simple examination of this new aspect of resistance, I noticed that fear was a central figure.  Fear appeared as the motivator for resisting the acceptance of something new or different.  Once the fear was faced and found to be unnecessary resistance disappeared and acceptance ensured.  Facing the fear was the key.

Resistance to oppression brought fear but not as the motivator.  It seemed that integrity and compassion were the generators for the resistance and fear fed the ability to continue the resistance.  I am sure there are many more emotions that may be the leaders to the resistance depending on what was being fought or needed to be stopped.

It is a very thin line between the different aspects of resistance.  The line often gets blurred and confusion can set in.  Often times we think we are being oppressed when we are actually only being asked to open to a different point of view.  There are times when the change we are being asked to make is really oppression and should be fought.  It takes a sense of self and our soul, a backseat ego, and honesty to decipher the difference.

Courage to fight the oppressor comes when we know our truth, believe in ourselves, and hold a compassionate heart.  Courage to open to change requires the same.  Wisdom reveals the nuance.



So often we find ourselves at the edge, sometimes almost daily, to our world and wondering whether to jump or not.  What if, for just this posting our choices were far more than just jump, would you consider other options?

edge 4

Imagine if you will wandering towards the point of decision and what appears to you is the only option of jumping.  Taking that leap, plugging your nose and jumping into the vast deep expanse of the unknown becomes a terrifying decision.  Perhaps you have jumped so many times before that it isn’t terrifying but none-the-less a bit of fear appears on the horizon and a decision must be made.

Now imagine as you walk to the edge standing beside you is another you.  They turn and wink at you pull out a long expansive bridge, place it across the chasm in front of you and walk across leaving you standing there.  As you gape at them in disbelief, another you walks up, smiles, turns to their right and walks off.  Now you are completely boggled at the scenes appearing before you, forgetting why you are standing here, scratching your head trying your best to make sense of this all and yep, you guessed it, another you appears.

Being brave you venture to speak to the aspect of you in hopes of gleaning where they have come from only to find that you are way to busy to stop and chat.  You toss a lasso to the other side and pull the chasm close to you and step across.

Falling to your seat after this last meeting of self your mind spins with no explanation appearing.  This can’t possibly be happening.  Who are all these You’s and why so many options?

Parallel realities exist and are easily accessible.  There isn’t just one option to all our decisions and yes there isn’t just one Right option to our decisions.  Philosophers, poets, and writers have all spoken about alternate and parallel realities; Alice in Wonderland, The Matrix,  The String Theory, shamans, and Plato to name a few.

The next time you are standing at the edge deciding to jump, pause, sit down, look to your left, look to your right and see who is standing beside you, pour a cup and ask what they think is an option.  You might be surprised at all your options.  Take the leap and Jump!

The Soul Traveler





Adam’s Apple

Beginning today, 4/1/14, and no it is not an April Fool’s joke, I will be blogging everyday on a subject starting with a letter of the alphabet ~ A-Z.  It was suggested I pick a theme and not being one to really follow directions completely, I don’t have one.  I have written down a word or phrase for each letter as they came to me… could be a theme … definitely a challenge!  Hope you enjoy.


“It is obvious to me that you have no idea what is possible,” glaring she reached high grasping the object just out of reach,  “if you had paid attention we wouldn’t be here now.”  Stomping she left him stranded on the doorstep.

Red appleIt seems like lately the doorstep was where he found himself with her not necessarily a bad thing, mind you, just an irritation.  He had paid attention.

Scouring the pages of his memory there wasn’t even a hint of solution in them.  He was beginning to think she was making the entire thing up.  The shiny item
had become her obsession, damn it, not his.  All he wanted was to be left alone.  Always thinking and planning were not his cup of tea, no, that was all her.  Traveling, pondering, investigating why things did what they did were his passions.  She needed to be seen, admired, sought after to be happy.  It was time.  So many years had been spent chasing after her and what she wanted.  No starting today he was just going to sit here in the shade and enjoy his shiny red apple.  Today he was going to do what he wanted. He was going to figure out why these apples were the best in this garden.

How many times have we found ourselves supporting someone else’s dream, their desire to climb after the shiny object,  allowing them to direct where our passions should lie, pushing us to circumvent our dreams, our desires?  Allowing ourselves to be silent and driven along the path of our life leaves us wanting and stagnant.

Be brave, find your tree, sit under it and enjoy your shiny apple.  It isn’t a sin.



Copyright © 2014 Teri Connolly. All Rights Reserved.

Forever and a day ….

Alaskan Brown Bear

So I have tried to post, write, spew, anything for the past 6 months… and as you can see NADA!

So what gives?  Nothing really gave I just had to walk through releasing the known to get to here.  It hasn’t been a cake walk, more like a merry-go-round, repeat, repeat, repeat.  Kind of like a constant rinse cycle.  Get the dirt out, add fresh water, spin, spin and spin till you are certain the dirt is out only to find another spot.  So back you go again.

Till finally it dawned me I was afraid of letting go of the familiar!  The pain in my arse, non-fulfilling familiar.  Go figure.  Well I did and I still found myself reacting to my dear friends new endeavors, feeling that nasty hit you get from your ego that says a myriad of things that are not true.  I really was happy for them but I knew by my reaction that my lovely ego had taken the lead.  This wasn’t ok with me but it was a pattern long-held.

So what to do?  When in doubt I journey, sometimes knowing I just may get my arse kicked by my guides, Yes even the angelic one….  But off I went expecting the shake up and instead getting a moment with them deep in reflection sitting in my special place looking out onto the Cosmos, breathing, breathing, and just feeling.  Flashes of past ways, times when I wrote daily, sometimes several times a day, times of ridicule which when they passed I scooped up the Soul piece cradling it into me, times of just looking, watching, knowing.  Eventually the journey came to an end; an end only for that moment.  Thanking my guides I returned to my room checking to see if a miracle had happened.  Had I changed?  Had I acquired volumes of words to share with everyone?

Nope.  I was still here being me.  A miracle? why perhaps since I am back at it this morning 😉

What had happened is I found that my ego could go back into the back seat even after it had been driving for what seemed ages.  That my soul knows best for me, that it never leaves, only sits quietly holding me in the most profound love and presence.  Allowing me to grow, slip-slide, and dance forward.  My soul is my best friend, is me in all my ecstasy, is willing to let go of the familiar, and is always, always there for me.

So writing again? Yes, I am willing and ready to share my thoughts, my struggles, my accomplishments, my quiet moments, my true travels with my soul.  It is a big step, one that has been long in coming, one that means far more than the story tells, one that required a story to be rewritten, one that places me out, out in the wild, wild world where the wild things roam, a place that welcomes me, a place that wants me, a place that is home to me and so many dear people.

I write now because it is who I am.  A storyteller.  I take what is and make it what it really is.  Don’t ask me how, don’t get into my head, just listen to the story and allow.

I am not some wise guru or someone to worship.  I am you, I am me, I am soul.

This mornings story comes today because I stopped hedging my bets.  I took the pattern and twisted it up.  I literally called into work stating I had a headache.  More like a body ache.  (Now listen I am not telling you to call in sick every day you want to change a pattern – you can change patterns on weekends).  I waited and listened and when I felt that moment when my mind and body were relaxed I got up, poured a cup of coffee, sat outside quietly, spied my special hummingbird drinking from his feeder and knew the moment was ripe.  I grabbed my literally brand new laptop (its purchase is another story for another day) and started.  Once this is completed for the hour, I will walk my morning walk, shower, dress, and head into work. I have gratitude for the job that pays and tends to all the necessities of daily life, I no longer view it as the piece that stops me from “what I want to do really”, and I will use every non-filled moment at work to write.  If Harry Potter can be written on scraps of paper, hell I can write a blog!

For some reason, I want to end today with Peace Out.  Gotta be a story in that …..