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White Wolf Integral Coaching, Ankeny, IA (2025)

05/01/2025

Just a Simple Offering: Walking with.

Since 2011 I have offered Spiritual Direction and Integral Coaching to people in search of engaging developmental growth.

Though I have recently officially retired I will continue to practice walking with others.

The difference will be that I will no longer be charging a fee, and I will not book as many sessions. I have decided in the last month to provide a limited amount of Coaching to those seeking growth.

If you would like to explore the option, or you know of someone who is seeking to engage this kind of experience, please know I am available for an initial conversation. This would simply be a way for you and others to discern whether I could be of help or whether I might be a fit for you.

Peace and light to you!

Dennis

04/14/2025

From my morning reflection:

Embracing second stage of life is standing in a field and watching the horizon right before sunrise and again at dusk. It is that feeling... clarity is nowhere to be seen. All are shades of color and blended hues. In the desire to reclaim the soul, the reality of being fully alive in that moment is wonderous and scary. The senses are reborn as it covers us in a blanket of unknowing.

Shadows and light mingle. Fading, brightening - lengthening. Here the source of all our forgotten parts coalesces. Unsure of what the next second brings, but still in the full witness of the changing light. This is the second stage of life, to meld into the color the dark and the light.

Morning journal on a beautiful Sunday - 4/13/25 dce

03/29/2025

Liz and Bill - they danced.

Some memories are like a foggy dream and others like visiting my grandparents are clear and bright. Perhaps I am not alone in this recollection and distinction about certain memories. To test this theory, I would love to read (or at least have you test) your stories as well. If you would like to share them, feel free.

My grandmother, Elizabeth or Liz, was a practicing Christian. She was a member of the local Methodist Church. Her world was wrapped in a blanket of warmth. She offered her love to anyone who needed it – or more to the point, to those she thought needed it. This offering might have included holding a hand, sharing a bottle of vitamins (typically C), or reciting a story of change / attitude adjustment (usually a corrective bible story), or pouring a great bowl of chicken and dumplings. Her German accent would frequently sneak out when the moments of emotion got the best of her. She was devout, brave, and filled with real presence. She displayed her light and shadow equally and knew she had both.
Her husband, lovingly known as “Bill” to the locals of the town of Madrid, was anything but a church goer. His post, everyday - was at his poolhall named “Bill’s Place”. Cards were played, newspapers were distributed, and grandchildren found refuge in the arms of an engulfing bear hug. Rarely seen without a cigarette in his hand, he chose his place on a cot in the back corner of his place for afternoon naps. When we came to visit, he offered bottles of pop from the 1950’s green, white, and orange 7 Up cooler. He offered us candy from the glass case – ignoring the grandma given edict of only one.

From the depths of my recollection, in this beloved space, there were two people with very different personalities who lived in a most modest little house. They lived, not simply tolerating one another…. As different as they were in body, mind and soul, they lived in a kind of oil and vinegar folksy dance. They did that as well – they really danced and quite well. Yes, there were also moments of breakdown and healing. Grandpa was notorious for giving stuff away – especially big stuff like grandma’s chicken coup. Ya… long story. Anyway….

Their home, a short walk away from the Place, and the Methodist Church just a little further down the street…. There was a very significant, strange bond. Two people with an understanding of life together. Not narrow or demanding, not charged with guilt or shame, but a relationship about real variance. It was not fake or showy, it was an unpretentious practice in living love.

Grandma Liz never gave up on trying to get grandpa into the church – of course he went on special occasions; anniversaries (even if it was just their own 30th, 40th or 50th celebrations) There perhaps had been a Christmas or Easter, or a wedding and funeral or two where grandpa gave in, but he always belonged at the place, and she knew it. She always belonged in her world, and he knew it.
In church or Bill’s Place… there was an understanding of there being a togetherness, a togetherness apart from.

That may sound odd - a togetherness apart from. However, I can confirm that it worked – I think my sisters and brothers would confirm this to be true. The togetherness (apart) worked because the acceptance was found in the mooring of loves they sailed along their own streams, separate boats loosely tied together - as the days, months, and years passed by, these two people forged a community where presence was true… and they grew together and around for others. Liz and Bill.

03/06/2025

2/26/25 Journal (dce)

“Black Stone Path”

As I walked the Oregon shoreline, I felt my mood of being shift from within.
The heart warmed and opened- it leapt.
Feet floating above the ground – over the black stone path.
Round polished stones wet and black, an earth given carpet of stones.
Walking turned to floating, along the shore in heart red joy.

Across the cold path of stones, I crouched down to find a solitary stone out of the many.
A palm sized black stone, cool and smooth to the touch.
It fits exactly in the grasp, in the energy of holding.
The radiant cold enters in and finds a way to my veins. It sinks in, it follows the blood to the softening of my heart where the soul recognizes a pre-existent light.
Red heart pumping warmth to share, to meet the cold stone.
The two intertwine and the soul recognizes the symbiotic knowing.

That part of the heart that neither resists nor singles out the flesh, the whole, that is soul.
Back to the heart – back to the stone… back, again and again.
The wind and the waves, the seal is between the tide –
not clinging but grounded to the rocks - warming and present.

The waves crash round, the water seeps back.
The tumbling sound of stones pulled back- the waves and the groaning power of the sea.
The calming and swelling tide – resonates and resounds.
The soul connects – the heart opens to the calling and falls into the wonder.

Above the surface, just long enough, long enough to breathe.
Take the gasp the tide rolls back over.
Back rolling, out over the black stone carpet to the deep.
The inhale, the power of the waves sweeping in and out, pushing – pulling.

The ocean, she knows as is her sacred way, the struggle.
The release, the catching, the holding….
She knows all the healing, all the letting go, all the washing against the black stone path.
She knows all the all

02/01/2025

I began the day in the search for a healing ray of light…. seeing some light, any light, even just a glimpse.
I wanted to find and hold onto something that made sense of this crazy tension and discord throughout the world. Yet, most of the tension within me feels like the scourge of despair. On a beautiful day such as this, even standing in the light, I notice the power of shadows cast.
So, I did what I always have done when I feel this way. I sift through my books; I dust them off and seek. I run my thumb along well-read yellowed pages. I am seeking comfort in the thoughts, the feelings, the print highlighted, and old penned notes in margins. However, In contrast to the futile seeking of answers, I found a much different realization. It is not about comfort. For me it is perhaps all about just the right amount of discomfort.
As I stacked volumes of books, and sought, and hoped it was here or there… I held in my hands a book by Walter Brueggemann, and I remembered something so unexpected it shook me.
I understand, it was not the book itself that caused me to find more than the light. It was not the title. It was not the topic. It was not the specific written words. It was the memory. It was the relationship, and it was the power of the connection. This connection, like any other spark of awakening connection, opened me up to a new moment. The reflection most certainly was there, but it was mostly the open door to the now that mattered.
In remembering an image of the open door, I recall Dr Brueggemann was able to crack me open, to provide space where I could seek a place of true self-examination. Even in my most immature, undeveloped and narrowly defined state of being – he held up a passionate example of connection based in love… AND, if even just for a millisecond it resonated, it made a huge difference. It allowed me to see that every heart is worthy, that every sacred creature mattered, and that it was only the beginning of discovering these connections.
The “remembering” I am not just reflecting upon, but am experiencing now, is about the recognition of the sacred in absolutely everything. Shadow, light, joy, melancholy, hope, hopelessness, lost, found…… you continue the rest by searching your own heart. The point being, the Sacred never abandons us, and the gift is common to all of us no matter what we call it.
So yesterday I read 1 Samuel 8. It was a passage that Dr. Brueggemann unfolded so well that I don’t remember the words, but I do remember the connection. I do remember the fear of people causing them to cling to something they thought would save them. They fell in love with their fear. They opted out of nurturing the truth about life’s uncertainties for the fable of our differences.
There are many powerful things we can learn from the story of desperate people making themselves a king for themselves. I still recommend this passage for a good dose of perspective, for the challenge to be the best soul we can be. But not with the intent I had initially. I was going to proof text while not…. You know, proof texting. I was going to say; “hey, if you are going to proof text you really ought to add this one to your list!” And when “the remembering” took over, I just laughed at my own ego and began to write this.
Within the sacred dwells. Whatever fears I have, I cannot change this. Whatever king I choose, I cannot change this. Whatever stories I create, I cannot change this inward truth shared and offered by a wise teacher. Please, look into the eyes of those we vilify in fear. Look and look deep to see the sacred, it is always there…. Always.

01/21/2024

A Friend of mine made the mistake of asking me what I thought about our world being divided. I felt like writing about it after my morning meditation.... I named it - A Face Alone.

A face alone tells the truth. Beyond the lies of tribe and illusions of loyalty to a cause. The mind warps the real makeup of beings, of earth and the spirit of all creatures to fit within their constantly in crumbling walls…

Walls made of hate, of fear, of loneliness - even in the crowded room, we pretend there are with us and those against us…. It all caves. But mind comes up short against the wind, the rain and the storms - these have their way.

The risk, the act of shattering the thick cloud of fear we have exhaled between us - with our cold, rapid and wasted breath, our foggy denial of presence is crystalized.

Only to look and see the single face – and yes, each face one at a time settles the fear. If just to hush the noise of how we can dive into the murky depth of our made-up differences, it is a beginning. So as to say/to think; "we are not so separate and so alien."

To learn as the heart teaches – thinking does nothing to severe the roots of our connectedness. In every cell, in the spiritual and holy mystery, we are all bound together. This is what scares us most.

To see the pain, to know the suffering behind the eyes, we know what binds us together. In the intuitive spiraling light within us, we know we have either been there, or we will be there.

Paradox – I am nothing without knowing my unknowing and the knowing and unknowing of the other. My heart longs for being – for being something to someone or at least only to myself.

The soul weeps for touch even as the mind figures, chronicles, and creates so many stories to keep the other away – far enough to be at a safe distance. Weeps to just be held and whole for one small moment as we are broken into pieces – again and again. We are so strong / we are so weak.

So, the question of the heart is asked – what If I risk seeing the other – the outcast, the stranger, the ones so different (though not so different) from me? The heart’s answer finds there is no static safety – only a journey that calls to the beating breast, with chords of compassion.

DCE -1/20/24

12/03/2023

To my beloved Sister:

Yesterday I had a breakthrough awareness about my want and desire, for life to be fair. It was all triggered by the recent waves of suffering in our world, or to be clear, the way I saw it in my world.
I first accepted that the human response to what is, includes the dualistic way we attempt to make sense “of it all”, instead of acknowledging whatever it is – IS. I acknowledged that for a good part of my life, as I engaged in religious dualistic battles daily. I was in the business of theo-explaining on this or that. I was out Job-ing Job’s friends because I thought people deserved, needed, and wanted answers. (See the book of Job from Wisdom literature, if you are not familiar with the story)

I am reminded of what I once heard as words of futility from Jesus for example – “The poor will always be with us…” These words have now turned into the truth about the power of an open heart. Jesus didn’t offer this as an answer – he offered it as being true.
Not all things are fair, as I remember Mark Nepo saying when I heard him speak about his fight with cancer. He said, "But all things are true, and only an open heart can start to make sense of how. Because that helps us when we keep choosing between right and wrong, we spend our energy sorting life rather than living it. It doesn't mean that there aren't things that are cruel or evil or hurt or unjust, but only from the wholeness of life can we see how the spirit in a body can navigate it."

Yes, today I see this - Living life is the most important and powerful way to be. My beloved sister is fighting cancer. She is the model beautiful person I know who not only sees this cognitively, but she is living it…. She is living with the suffering in light and darkness. She has one of the most open hearts of all the people I have known. I just want her to know – everyone who really knows her, knows this truth. Love is everything to her, and this is the beginning and end to knowing how healing an open heart can be.

Love you Carol!

12/27/2022

All about Creature Connection:

I have not written anything on this page for a very long time. Not because I stopped thinking or feeling about things… I just had not felt a strong enough need to do so.

Late last night, I had perhaps the most challenging time I experienced in probably 10 years. I am not writing this as some “truth” eternal experience or formulation – what I am writing is about a depth of connection I was offered from another creature. No promises of it being anything to anyone else. It is not an argument or opinion – it’s just what happened. A partner in life, one I truly walked… and ran with just died while I held his head.
15 years ago, we brought a little loner-runt home. It was Joel’s Birthday (my youngest son) and he wanted a dog. We followed a beloved friend’s lead on where to find a pup and we brought Rex home in a cardboard box.

The scene at the farm was what seemed like a 150 – but it was more like 15 little pups weaving in and out of our legs, prancing and bouncing like flubber footed fur balls. Not the Rex-ster, as we often called him. He was sitting in the corner, shy and small. Joel went over to him and from that moment on he was the Rex of loving.

When I turned 40, I had what I thought was a revelatory thought about my own two boys – Cale and Joel. I saw them, for reasons I will not go into, as individuated wonderous creatures. I no longer needed or wanted to see them as some weird extension of me.
I allude to this revelation, because this was no different than the way Rex had integrated himself into our family. In short, to me at least, he was not “my dog” – he was much more. He was an angelic fur bearing, heart of gold, full standing hug giver…with his big old paws… he was a wonderful gift! He was his own amazing soul. He was a look you in the eye mystic spirit, all love, all exactly who he was created to be; and with that he changed our lives.

I am not wanting to debate, not trying to prove, not attempting to say you must believe anything I say. I just want to thank whatever force that placed him in our lives for the joy he brought us. I am not over producing his accomplishments or awards. I am not padding his eulogy. I am being honest, honest as I can be without over thinking. Now whatever you think about dogs – that’s fine. If you have not had this pain in your gut, that is fine too. You may not understand and that is okay too. I am only being where I am.

I am in such pain, such total grief about losing him to the next life. But it may be helpful to know that I wouldn’t change it for anything. The cost is so, so worth it. He taught me to love better, to trust more, to hold sacredness with other creatures more deep and real. He taught me that connection does not have anything to do with a bigger brain or being a biped… even though his bestie hugs were given standing on two paws. It is not like the first crush or the lost love I thought I had. On his side, Rex had only the tools of being who he was. Always there, always truthful, always into us.
Here I am tonight laid low by love and high by love. I want to make it clear that as he left us, I was selfish and that’s okay, I guess. I did not want to lose a salve for my wounds, a love that had no motive, and a connection that was without guile. But it can’t be lost. He gave all he was to us. Creature connection is great and small- and the smalls have it.

We love you Rex, thank you for being here with us.

DCE

09/27/2022

Hello World ! I'm 15 minutes old

05/27/2021

When I was a child, our family would often go and do the Memorial Day traditional visitation. We would drive the three hours to my grandparents. It was a day in western Nebraska where we discerned the journey landmark to landmark.

Signs along the way…. The billboards to Pioneer Village, and the stop at A&W if we begged enough. We would drive and elbow bang… we would argue and play the license plate game. Our father would sing some off tuned verses, and we would endure. Packed in a station wagon with real fake wood decals around the doors… we watched for the barn, the windmill, and the final leg across the railroad tracks. Joy coursed through each sibling – for the end of the journey, for the embrace of grandparents.

Today this little thought seemed important to me. Last night I noticed a sunset and it made a difference in the connection I understood in real presence. Below is a sunset picture from the Sandhills that reminds me of those journeys... It is possible to embrace the eternal and timeless tie to love, and it is because that love never dies.

dce

08/27/2020

When Things Fall Apart

If I had to guess, I would imagine that you are with me in feeling that the world is falling apart. I am shocked by the violence, saddened by the death, and deflated by the seeming lack of power to change the way things are.

Lately I have felt repelled by the political rhetoric - it seems empty and more divisive than ever. So in the last few days I turned to a source that has offered me grounded ways of moving forward in the past. Pema Chodron's wisdom in a book named "When things Fall Apart"..... Right? Well, it seems like things have certainly fallen apart!

In the most challenging part of this book, Pema writes about the practice of Tonglen in depth. This practice is simple and profound. "Giving and Receiving". This is all there is. And so today, in the midst of all that is going on, I looked back to her wonderful offerings. I wish to share them in hope that they may also offer you light and direction. Politics aside, I seek to practice these two in love.

"When practicing tonglen, we each breathe in the suffering of the world around us and then when exhaling, we send peace, love, and security to all."

"nonaggression, even and especially when someone has opinions totally different than our own. This is not about “ignoring or keeping quiet” but focusing on adding peace, not more aggression to the world – which never changes or helps anyone."
Pema Chodron

06/28/2020

Lovely

White Wolf Integral Coaching