Search results for 'the path'

The Path Will Meet You As You Step

22 Feb

overgrown path

This is a hard time, a place along the journey that will have a mark, a groove, some kind of evidence of a certain kind of heartache and turmoil that will probably be a demarcation of sorts.  And still…

I’m starting to realize I don’t have any feelings about the events in my life.

In some ways, that sounds just wrong – as if I’ve checked out, gone numb, given up.

But it isn’t that.

With the release of expectations or attachments to outcome, things are just happening.  I am here, I watch, I do things, and all is equal.  Strange, eh?

My life up to now has prepared me for the unfolding of now.  I stare this now in the face, my own denials, my own attempts to fix, and accept every part.

What seems a struggle is when I don’t know what to do, when I imagine I have to make a path or figure something out.   What I am learning is how to see the path as I take my step.

I step, the path steps up to meet me.  Or something like that.  The path often doesn’t become clear until I  step.

The confusion comes if I anticipate the path not meeting me.  Then the path looks like an overgrown jungle requiring a machete.

Now, that old Irish Blessing makes sense, May the Road Rise Up To Meet You.  Geez, so silly revisiting all these old sayings and realizing, now I see what that means!  I thought I knew, now I see more, and yet there is still more that opens.  Without stress, it opens up before me.

The Path Will Meet You As You Step.

Middle Path Dance

10 Feb

Everything I write here is a lie.

And everything I write is true, in the moment I write it.

My head gets stuck on this…but my heart understands the flow of capturing words that seem to represent the loose hold we all have on TRUTH.  I am just experiencing, relating these experiences and allowing the spin of the mind’s wheels to be observed until its rotation loses energy and momentum, and the spin slows.  Sometimes stillness is left.  There, there are no words, no thoughts, no lies.

While still in a body, there is a dance in the middle path.  Between motion and stillness, between silence and noise, between mud and clear water, between pain and joy.

I like peeking into bloggers lives like Caimbeul or seeingm, where my life in constrast seems so different.  We are all leaves dancing in the wind, some have created a gentle breeze in which to reflect for now, and some have chosen seeming stormy volitility within which to make their journey for now, and those roles will certainly shift and change,  but we are all just leaves still being played by the conditions of the weather between our release and landing.

The line in the sand the now moment seemed to call for yesterday was another play of consciousness that was so perfect for me in this middle Path dance.  The dancer doesn’t stop to think, how do I stay upright?  She dances, and in the now moment the movement that comes next flows within her.

The dance of life is no less graceful.  I’m going to tell a potty training story.   I feel like someone should step in and stop me from telling this, but for some reason it perfectly illustrates how this dance can be for me sometimes.

My oldest daughter was late to potty train, and the learning process ended up becoming a very confusing section of the dance.  My gentle manner was tender in her accidents, and supportive of her efforts, and we ended up in a place where I was carrying 10 outfits for her around in my bag, no hyperbole, for all the accidents daily.  And after a good, long while of my gentle support, one night she and I were watching a movie before bedtime together with her on my lap.  I was tired and  when she just chose to pee without trying to get to the bathroom,  the urine falling into my lap was cold and disgusting and it angered me.  I looked her firmly in the eyes and I said, “You will not do this.”  and I went on a verbal speech with quite a bit of angry tones and lines drawn.  Her eyes were wide watching and listening. This moment marked the end of this particular dance.  She was potty trained.  None of the parenting books would have said this was the way to dance this dance, but often my middle path requires marga to express some anger and backbone.

So I will say, there is a great relief in this house today, a new air, so to speak.  A dybbuk was sent packing.

I can see today that a line drawn in the sand allowed us to examine what really lay beneath.  There was a deadline set for solution that mattered for life and death, in my little one’s world.

In this dance,  this marga character is often full of great acceptance.  But I had a moment when I felt the pee in my lap again so to speak, and said, this will not be the air in my house for years on end.  Yesterday was a thrashy and angry dance, lasting 22 hours, with a break for sleeping, and no one knew how it was going to end.

I’ve never been much into Freudian theories, but I knew there was a heavy dose of displacement going on.  Knowing a theory does not bring a solution.  After the thrashing and crying, and anger and sympathy, a final deep buried wound was uncovered, and the flow of universal love seemed to enter in again.

I’m not Pollyanna, here.  This is not the end.  But I feel sure this is a truer turning point than I have seen in a while.  I see how the universe came in to play the music behind our dance, and pulled in players I didn’t even know were available.

On we go.

Heart full of gratitude for the journey that can be a dance, and that there are those whose dances overlap with mine.

Backsliding into the Rave Party of Mercy

26 Jan

There were years of grace, so much so, that I couldn’t imagine that walking in the world without this flow was possible anymore. Grace seemed to begin flooding into my moments when I walked out of my old life with my daughters in tow, and set out to make life from scratch. While those years of trying to make ends meet, burning my fuels to EMPTY most days, scrambling to meet needs while every next remained uncertain were so challenging, there was a background air of abundance, love, and support in the unseen forces that exist just behind a veil of the material. I was gifted guides and loves some steps ahead who cheered me on and reminded me of the larger view. Through all these years, I longed to create more certainty and stability in the seen world, but while the scramble was on, grace and trust seemed to ease the way and light the path. Grace period!

Fast forward to the wider expanse of today, with kids launched for the most part, and financial burdens eased a bit, I have become aware that identification with the smaller self has crept back  – in hindsight – in small increments, so slowly as to be unnoticed. In the past month, I have been shown and I see the energetic dissonance that had taken hold. The other side of grace perhaps is the way reminders come in, incrementally as well, to say, “Hey, you! It is going to get stranger and more painful until you look up and see – you are back in Kansas again, playing out old stories. Wake up!”  I have been getting grace’s kicks in the pants 🙂

Thank you grace, who knows how to take us and shake us for our own good. I think that when the space that I had sought for years finally arrived, the oldest wounds and defenses, that finally had room for examination, arrived center stage. People do all sorts of things at this point, it seems, to avoid sitting, listening, really looking truthfully at the deepest rooted identification with the small, hopeless self. Have a baby, get a dog, jump into an ill-conceived romance, begin a time-consuming hobby – everything called to me, well mostly, but at least not a baby! BUT what is on the table instead, if I am brave,  is the uncomfortable re-boot of seeing, allowing space for clearing out old conditioning, patterns, protections, pretense. Grace gave me a taste of what’s possible, and slipping back gave me a whopping, and grace rolled up her sleeves to help me with the clean-out.

It strikes me that the most private and complex experiences that we have as humans occur with very few knowing anything about them at all. It isn’t pride or saving face, mostly, that keeps so much of the truest twists and turns of the human journey private. I think it is our inability to leave a trace at all of the subtlety of the way life goes down and grace arrives. Each tiny moment provides such voluminous information-feedback internally and externally-that writing, speaking, dancing, painting, singing- all our tools- do not have enough space for the real deal of every moment. Every story is watered-down and biased – and we can only reveal so much without yelling soliloquies from our cardboard houses in the alleys of main human thoroughfares to no one but rushers-by.

There can be no real bread crumb trail for how each soul goes from blindness and suffering to grace filled truthful awareness. The lightbulb goes off, the alarm, and the work ahead is clear. Grace enters. She fills the stage. There is no way to explain. Someone holds up a flower, another one smiles – and the transmission is complete, while someone else fumbles the ball and lets the whole team down, never able to explain what went wrong. Grace is here too, in the fumble and disgrace, from a later view, as it all plays out; failing was just right in order to see what was/is always real.

I assumed that when shifts occurred from the grace period on, conversations could be had. I assumed one could touch base, get feedback, check-in. But the mirrors are often perplexing when we are being guided to look at our blindspots, our conundrums, our hopeless-seeming patterns. Sometimes all we can reach is the heartbeat sound in our own ears from our own blood pumping and the gracious silence of distant, firm love.

It seems an important balance in the flow of grace that I learn again how to flip the switch on identification without any condemnation of the self that forgot. In an instant, the confusion can be seen and laughter is appropriate for the elephant wearing a tutu, crouched in the corner. The grace of self-love here is startling because it is watered with the salt of sorrow and purity of forgiveness. There is a certain inevitability, too, of the fall from grace. It was felt coming on for months, yet no strong-armed resistance could keep the shift away.

From here is remembered the years of largesse,  in-and-outward love. The pathway is marked, the memory beckons from the future, and the stepless steps appear in the deepest stopping, listening, shoulders down, breathing into the forgotten furnace within; astounding how the consistent, loving, and distant sun burns within each of us unseen until we are ready, again. Grace, the final executioner bearing our last meal, whistling down dark corridors to our self-created cells. Freedom, a whiff of salty water in the distance, then suddenly a flood. Let’s get to the dance party again as we allow ourselves to be washed back into the ocean rave, going on all of our nights and days. We’ve got the wristband to enter already!

riding on the fumes of grace

27 Dec

Grace is ever replenishing, but I wonder about this truth when I wake up into my dead end steering, my tank empty with no fueling stations in sight. My little body scooter carries me so wonderfully, but the mind, unexamined, tells a different story of where I find myself. I think of Job when my thinking runs me into ditches. Comparatively, my demonstrations have nowhere near the drama of his story, but I thank Job for playing out extreme, existential, hyperbolic loss loss loss.  I would like to talk about Job more often, but somehow he doesn’t make his way into many conversations. So helpful it can be to see the human in extemis for our learning; here now with me I do not have a body full of deep sores; there is no burned-down, total destruction, but it is my own gracelessness (actually, thoughts about my gracelessness not actual gracelessness) that leads me to suffering. What am I to do when I feel like I am riding on the fumes of grace, that I have diminished myself in some way and I can’t seem to rectify with any thinking or doing.  Job’s total loss example helps me with the way I can spiral into the same conundrum over an over again, the way faith and loss seems to repeat. Am I courageous enough to live in a way that leads to the total loss and resetting again and again?  At my reset point — grateful, humbled, and open. Grace flows into my tank upon this admission. Grace is running out of gas for my own good and accepting the full tank,  both.  Grace is acceptance of the headache, the rejection, the wobbling, again and again, yet still returning my (loved)bum to the daybed in my case, but could be the yoga pad, meditation cushion, curb:) too, and making room for stillness to be seen, seeing without defining. I hold you close, heart sick companions, in the flow of graceless and graceful, only ever in this now, grasping not at what was or is going to be. Whew! Compassion increases exponentially now in my own admission for myself, and thus everyone. Awkward am I in this life. And thank god for that. Once seen, grace brings laughter and lightness again.The return to my own ridiculousness and freedom are never far. I live this truth, too: the path always returns to laughter and ease no matter where it seems to be occurring now. It cannot not. Truly.

 

my dating profile :)

22 Jul

I look normal, I seem normal, and I can wear my normal suit as needed.

But life’s journey has led me away from the path of normal.

I am putting my truth out there on my profile into the world of normal, to eliminate most, and to speak to those who will instantly know what I am talking about.

I am not talking about anything overt; I am talking about the inner blossoming.

I am on a path toward self-discovery.

The answers I have sought have been discovered to be within and to be never far.

Breath is the vehicle for me on the ride.

I spend time in silence,

I fall in love all day long, everyday, with ants and trees, and songs.

My boundaries have loosened, my identity has loosened.

I can still dance in the world of normal, but I only do so when absolutely necessary.

I am looking for friends to interact with who have a clue what I am talking about.

I am looking to weed out all who are nice, but still normal.

I leave this breadcrumb trail of nonsense as an invitation to anyone who finds the normal paths of life debilitating; there is more. And it is so much more.

The only clues cannot be named or nailed in directly but can only point, like a mute but colorful road sign.

Contact me if you want to talk of such intangible things, or if you want to watch ants or the leaves dance in a breeze, if you sometimes realize you are the breeze, the leaves, and the breathing eyes watching.

this section of the stream

5 Sep

alone

Charlotte by Aufzehengehen

I have balanced between my daughters’ needs and my own every day for the past 19 years; always, they needed to be a constant front and center consideration.  This slowing section of the stream has been a while in coming, it seems helpful for me to acknowledge.  Years I fantasized about a little more mental space, a bit more quiet, more individual freedom.  But now, as what I imagined for years is being given back to me in small increments, I am at a choice point.  I am resisting a knee-jerk impulse to fill space up with anything not worthy of my time or focus.

Stillness is a gift that wants to be opened.

There are voices that say, get moving, make something happen, change things up, you are a nobody choosing to do  so so much alone.   These voices make me want to jump out of the raft and start kicking – maybe I even want to  buy an outboard motor to blast through this part of the river.

I do not silence these voices, I do not call them silly;  I am giving them space to fluster about. When they quiet down, I point out the beauty in the trees on the bank, the water birds standing watch, I am encouraging a long look at the clouds, I am saying to them gently, there is nothing you can miss out on.  You have worked hard to clear yourself up for this space, now lie in it, bask in it.  Do not get up do not rush on do not paddle down to some rapids of your own making.  Life as you want it cannot leave you behind.

The stillness has me loving my own company.  I like how little I make myself make small talk.  I know my story, so I do not have to repeat it.   I love the lack of explanation needed to enjoy a walk in nature with just me.  I listen to girls as they come and go.  I nod.  They want to know I am here, the jumping off point to which they return, again and again.  While I enjoy their presence, I do not demand their company.  I give them my full attention, when they stop by.

Last weekend, I almost stepped on a snake as I was walking a sunny path at an old rice field.  The silence and stillness indwelling in me allowed me to  hover mid step and turn on a dime to give him space.  I retreated without worry of threat, and he did too; he was a good 5 feet long.  He slowly made his way across the path into the shady woods, without worry or hurry.  We watched each other.   I’ve been trying to identify him with no luck online, though I know he had no rattlers to shake.

I love this part of my little life path.  I am in no hurry, though a million concerns lie and wait about my future.  I am holding still, trying or rather flowing into a new way of existing in trust in beauty in silence in stillness, allowing  the clarity to come before I make a move.

I chose to re-listen to one of Neil Kramer’s great Roamcasts  with my spaciousness today – randomly selected – and I got a familiar overlapping (around the 18:29 mark) with the place in the stream in which I find myself trying to describe here:  http://neilkramer.com/roamcast-6-unmaking-empire.html  :  then NK posts a beautiful piece of  Hermit art…wink wink nudge nudge – hi ho, off to my cave I go…

hermit cave

 

Moritz von Schwind (1804–1871) painting, A Player With A Hermit

In contrast, however, my bedside dream journal is full of my ex-spouse.  Perhaps I am working through in the night what seems a non-issue in the day.  I feel at peace with those 20 plus years, accountable for my part in the learning, yet in my dream last night I stole his new RV to much condemnation of everyone in the dream world; the more I tried to justify, the more alone and misunderstood I felt.  I set off on my own, on foot, after I was unable to turn the headlights on and got tracked down.  The lone journey on foot seems apropos for where I am.

Ah, the journey.  We all have them.  7 billion plus pairs of eyes. Every night, 7 billion plus dream  bubbles floating up from planet earth – infinity all the way up and all the way down; how many lives have I lived?  Ultimate freedom feels mine – any choice – any potential playing out – and I am just one potentiality at a time, slowed down light so I can enjoy it as it happens.

 

January Challenge

17 Jan

“For those who have an intense urge for Spirit and wisdom, it sits near them, waiting.”  ~ Patanjali  *

A beautiful and inclusive soul, Barbara Franken, had a wonderful idea for the month of January on her blog.  She called her awakening tale:  January Challenge…My Awakening Experience and Moving On…  , and she invited her friends to join her in this exploration.  The 17th is my day to spin my tale for the 17th is the day of my birth in september and my daughter’s birth in november – which seems a poetic nod of the numeric sort to mystery and meaning.

the path

Having signed up to participate in this challenge, suddenly I was hit with a major case of…what is the name for this feeling of reluctance to go back over the details of my life because while it all truly happened to ME, NOW it actually feels like someone else?    The details feel tedious,  but here is where I found a place to start:

I once lived in a modern house under a canopy of old growth oaks.  We had a wooden swing hanging from a high branch out front, perfectly centered for viewing through a wall of windows.  

The house was knocked down for the value of the land when we left; all of my beautiful possessions were sold in an estate sale, yet it still exists for me,  not with regret, but with joy of a place I once inhabited.  The mirror of this experience loves to show me  the transient nature of our material world;  houses, possessions, our very bodies are one way for a while then everything changes – there is no thing to hold on to in this world.  There is no thing that I can grasp with my hand that will be forever the way it is right now.

I move along by some invisible force beckoning,  a god-sized finger points down the road a ways, a tap on my shoulder asks me to turn around,  the ground  trembles,  then finally earthquakes break the earth wide open beneath my feet; I fall endlessly it seems into the abyss, no house, no perceived security, a future written in permanent ink  now disappears off a page that never was ~  yet some thing never stops interrupting the regularly scheduled program. 

In the searching for some meaning, I’ve joined belief systems and left them only to create new ones to define who I thought I was.   I’ve been Presbyterian, Southern Baptist, Agnostic, Jewish (conservative, orthodox, reconstructionist, renewal, cabalistic, reform); then I felt the pull toward Buddhism, Taoism, random philosophy, the Vedas, and now finally  I have found the label I shall wear forever;  finally I have found a practice that suits me.  I am a Cannibal.  Eating the flesh of other humans has allowed me to come full circle to my Christian roots……..Are you still reading?

NO, REALLY… NOW there are No More Labels.  Finally, nothing – but an ongoing realization that when I ask, What is next?  I am answered, for that is the way the mystery has always spoken to me, bit by bit, pulling me in the moment to what is next.  I believed myself to be abandoned many times, but in the urge and asking, I was never left that way for good.

I have died  (or have gone to the other side for a bit), and returned by choice to raise my daughters.  I’ve had a post childbirth/near-death experience depression that turned into a dark cave-dark night of the soul –  that actually saved me.  If I had not given myself the experience of exploring my shadow, and of feeling the discomfort of the life I had chosen, if it had not gotten really, bloody uncomfortable, I might have lived the life of obligation and slow decay – so strong was my conditioned programming!  Here comes an apt quote given to me at a pivotal time from one of my key holders:  SeeingM:

“Barn’s burnt down – Now I can see the moon.”

Masahide

My barn had to burn down.  It felt tragic, but now I have come to a place where I would bring marshmallows for the event – most days 🙂

My own confusion has wrought an imaginary sort of havoc; I’ve run around like a fool screaming fire more times than I can recall, but I’ve come to see those emergencies were of my own making.   I am okay.   I’ve always been okay.  

 Books often were the tool the mystery used to talk to me, though, at some points, people with the keys to my locked doors have magically appeared at the critical times they were needed.   These gifts from spirit are just as real as the laundry to be folded, the dishes to be washed, the papers to be graded that I can touch with my hands.   Lately, I am picking up on signals through people, numbers, patterns, flow and cilantro.  ha!  Not cilantro, but maybe someday.  That word just wanted to be there.

One of the most profound visitations I’ve had was invisible to everyone around me; it occurred in a moment, and filled me with the assurance that I have tapped into throughout these many years –  I have been shown how much I am loved and connected to love.

This meaningful moment for me occurred in my beautiful, modern house in my fancy neighborhood days with small children.  I was overwhelmed with fatigue and drain and disconnect in the task of taking care of my girls in days that seemed to go on and on.  My thyroid was beginning to not function so well, so I was exhausted all of the time without knowing why.    I was sitting on the couch in our breakfast nook next to the kitchen, surrounded by such wonderful windows but drowning in sheer exhaustion.   I just prayed a simple phrase, “help me through.

In that moment,   the most powerful and all encompassing love whooshed into my body – enough to make me swoon.   I was flooded with love so big,  I disappeared.  What I am describing was physical and real, and utterly unexplainable.   I can’t articulate just what happened.  It helped me through that day, but more importantly, the memory of some thing that personal and profound that answered me has helped me through these last 10 years of challenge.  As my life spiraled into outwardly seeming disarray, I had an inner knowing of this love that came when I called.  I was given a gift to get me through, to help me know I wasn’t alone, to pull me out of a cave, to pull me out of a marriage that could no longer work, to exhibit independence and strength to my daughters who were being sucked into the undertow of their father’s mental  plight.

More and more the wash of bliss seems to be a normal flow.  Behind the tasks of every moment is a spaciousness full of love, and humor, so forgive my silliness;   to me Awakening is not serious business but more a coming back to who I am, have always been, but forgot for a bit.  This original self is known by the comfort she embodies.  She is usually ready with a laugh, a dance, a deep breath, a stop for looking at the sky or a bug crawling by.

If it isn’t a momentary awakening experience like Eckhart Tolle and  Byron Katie, then perhaps it is just this walking along,  and getting pulled along, going along, trusting the path to strip and refurbish  – a cosmic car wash.  And boy, do we shine, so scrubbed and buffed at the end.  And boy, are we held during the tough, bristle-brush rubbings.  What mystery pulls me forth, I do not know, but conveying through I am, glancing right and left as I go, seeing you and you and you along the ride with me,  fractally small, connected to all, falling in love with a cat at the foot of my bed.

*  Thank you Erin for the wonderful quotation from her blog!

Here is a list of fellow path walkers and their stories as they participate in the January Challenge!

1st     Barbara  – http://memymagnificentself.wordpress.com
2nd    Paddy    – http://paddypicasso.wordpress.com
3rd     Emanuel- http://emantable.com/musings-of-a-table/
6th     Julianne – http://juliannevictoria.com
7th     Sarah     – http://theskycladwriter.wordpress.com
8th     Shree     – http://heartsongsblog.wordpress.com
9th     Dace      – http://mywaytotruth.wordpress.com
10th   Korinn    – http://www.korinn.com
11th   Sindy     – http://bluebutterfliesandme.wordpress.com
12th   Stefanie – http://dancingwithstefanie.com
13th   Mick      – http://meticulousmick.wordpress.com
14th   Joss      – Postphoned
15th   Megan   – http://mychroniclifejourney.wordpress.com
16th   Pat         – http://patinspire.org
17th   Marga    – http://lifeasimprov.com
18th   Kimberley – http://kimberlyharding.wordpress.com
19th   Becki        – http://isurvivedamurderattackmyfamilydidnt.com
20th   Serena      – http://beingmefromatoz.com
21st   Heather     – http://wildflowerwomen.wordpress.com
22nd  PurpleRay – http://purplerays.wordpress.com
23rd    Sue          – http://suedreamwalker.wordpress.com
24th    M…          – http://seeingm.wordpress.com
25th    Brian G    – http://middlepane.com
26th    Dotta       – http://dottaraphels.wordpress.com
27th    CW          – http://sunflowerrosecw.wordpress.com
28th    Laurie       – http://lauriesnotes.wordpress.com
29th    Debra       – http://ptero9.com
30th    Linda        – http://lindalitebeing.wordpress.com
31st    Michael     – http://navigator1965.wordpress.com
February
1st      Leigh        – http://bluegrassnotes.wordpress.com
2nd     Shaman   – http://shamanictracking.com
3rd     Joss         – http://crowingcrone.com
4th     Jenna       – http://jennadee222.wordpress.com
5th
6th

thoughts behind the thoughts

6 Jan

Thorny Plant

We often have little bugaboos that are particular to each particular body suit:  recurring sinus infections, celiacs, migraines, asthma, insomnia, allergies;  we all know about these sort of  things!  There are challenges that are particular to each of us, yet also shared in  a commonality of annoyance or dread or danger: a thorn in the side, to tie it to a more ancient character, Paul.  I remember endless debate about what Paul’s thorn in the side was referring to when I was a child, immersed in a Christian world, which can get fuzzy to me now after all these years.  I remember speculation about his thorn being poor eye sight, a chronic disease, a sinful desire, mental anguish.   How cool that he didn’t come right out and reveal his cause of suffering!   By not doing so, he raised an awareness of a universal challenge of being a human in a body.

After having worked through the handful of accepted modern medical suggestions without results for one of my little body bugaboos, I moved on to the gazzilion of alternative and wacky suggestions found on the grab bag of the internet 🙂 !  I also have taken many days of separation and quiet to address the issue through mediation, spiritual causes, prayer, stopping short of dancing around a fire, naked, howling at the full moon…Okay, I admit it;   I tried that too!  😉

In the midst of my working through, This article about Rinpoche’s gangrene and year of healing came to my attention.   Some of the wisdom that I garnered from this article was not the actual end result of healing, but rather, the process and acceptance seen in the being of Rinpoche.  Gangrene is a gladiator match compared to my playground argument as far as body challenges go, so through this article, I became immediately aware of  SCALE.   Gangrene, loss of limb, oozing discomfort, risk of infection throughout the body, sure quick death and decay knocking on your doorstep every morning upon waking, every night upon sleep, every opening from empty mind, a road of scary thoughts beckoning one down the path of fear.  The big bad wolf is a smelly guest who may not ever leave.

And while there was mediation and spaciousness with Lama Rinpoche, the symptoms did not disappear over night from the sheer strength of his trust and fearlessness and detachment.  It took a bloody year.  Every day of that year were symptoms and sensations, changes that could be taken for doom.  Putrid ooze, my gracious!

How does he approach this?  First, he is accepting.  He is not banking on anything.  He is not proclaiming healing from day one.  What is the worst that can happen, he asks?  He looses this one life.  Hmmm.   That’s the worst?   He is awareness observing what is unfolding.

Through Rinpoche’s example,   I became aware of triggers that small symptoms of my discomfort could bring about – as quick as lightning, thought behind thoughts.  A negative thought  can be hidden behind a positive affirmation.  This is hard to describe, but it can go something like this.  When I might get a small symptom after thinking the problem was getting better, I realized that I had been attached to getting better, and any indication to the contrary, sent me into a remembrance of the thought  everything I have tried has not helped  which led to the thought this will not get better  which led to a self pity crescendo I will have to live with this until the end of my daysOye, such a pity :)…but it is just a flash, just a flash of that negativity, covered up by another plan quickly, another solution, a mask of positivity instead of an examination of the powerful flash of negativity – still bouncing in the playing field of polarity of thinking.

I’m trying not to get bogged down here in my explanation, but it is hard to describe the momentary workings of the brain and thinking.

There is this truth:  I already know what the healing is like.  I am releasing outcome – and that is what healing is…not the physical manifestation.    I can walk through the symptoms without attachment because I know that this is exactly what is right for right now;  healing is the thoughts, not the body.

Rinpoche woke every morning for a year with symptoms and seemingly did nothing but observe and continue on his path.  When the symptoms appear momentarily for me now, I am becoming aware of a shift within.   I often catch myself before the spiral down, and I remember the way it feels to be well.  I remember wellness in a bodily way without attachment.

I even question the thought that “it” should even go away – that is not really my concern, is it?   I even have found the positives for if it continues for forever.   Staying present in the discomfort and not following a negative path of thoughts wakes me up to blessing that are existing right in the moment.  When I followed the negative thought trail, even for a moment, I was blinding me to the moment.  I couldn’t feel the very air around me, the presence of others, the things that are going well, all the amazing things I am able to do, the blessings raining down!   The symptoms could momentarily trigger in me a blindness.   The contrast of my very endurable symptoms to Rinpoche’s diseased leg woke me up to some very subtle levels of thoughts.

I am observing, sharing, I have no beautiful summing up for what is unfolding currently in the now – and I think this is a valuable place to be, in the now, without words of wisdom but glimmers of Ahah!  Ahah!  Ahah!  on a  beautiful morning  this new year.  Love and blessings and remembrance sent to you, wherever you may be, experiencing the twinges and discomforts of living in a body, awakening to the blessings present in every moment!

Absolutely profound teaching here from Katie:  Could we ever imagine a reason for the challenges?  Do we want the blessings found even in perceived suffering to end?  Never!

stars are not alone in the sky

24 Dec

frodo-walking-under-starlight-drawingOn the couch, as I respond to a call from my daughter, which then requires some follow up calls, I watch the light fade in the sky through the windows.  Now the sky is dark.  Rain starts falling.

I am alone in my house.  I am alone and connected to everything.

I see my own creation of spaciousness flying toward me  now, a wonderful, old friend surprising me by its arrival.    I am  engulfed.   This is very good.  I make this happen.

In previous lives I have known, being alone through a holiday season full of expectations might have  looked a bit lonely, but  I imagine anyone who stops by here, you great life improvisors, would see a solitary holiday in a different light.  Of course,  “light has no mind for repetition…” according to John O’Donohue, as I am reminded of here  where Sister M is also the DJ at my private party tonight.

There is no such thing as lonely.

There could never be such a thing as lonely again.

I am in heaven here alone, while also…

I release heaven here on earth through my very being – which is so clear now that I have given myself the space to see that this is so.  I heard an interview with Mark Nepo on my long drive yesterday.     His voice and words flooded my chest with warm remembrance.

LITTLE BY LITTLE (Mark Nepo)

Some days I plod like an ant so focused on the grain above my head that the next step holds all of life, and I feel in the lineage of slaves pushing the next stone up an unfinished pyramid. Then, without reason, life opens and flows with an unearned ease that I can’t describe. When it leaves, like a breeze of Spirit, I feel renewed and certain that God is in both the moment of lift and the moment of ease. In the moment before pain and after. So I’ve given up wishing for ease and running from pain. Everything on Earth moves by this inching between ease and pain. It’s how we grow. And praising both, surrendering to both, accepting both is the work of love. Little by little, the way an ameba pulses under a microscope, the soul within a human being pulses like a faint star throbbing in place. Our spirit seems to emanate as our psychology constricts. The contrast makes us glow and shimmer. It’s useless to want to bypass this journey. For it’s only by inhabiting it that we chance to know Eternity, not as some far off place reserved for saints, but as the Numinous Delta in which the very marrow of life forms and reforms. To live in this unending dynamism, between being and becoming, is the path of transformation. More than finding Heaven on Earth, we are asked to release Heaven by living here on Earth.

(My choice for words in bold.)

In these days of spaciousness, I fall into the arms of Peace while also meeting Challenge dead in her fierce(ened) face.   I no longer feel quick sanded by the pain; there is more ease is in the flow even in the midst of challenge, knowing this is part of the pulsing of the star that I am. 🙂   I am up here twinkling in that very same sky, this holiday season, with an overhead look down upon you all –  you with family, with friends, active, and festive, or perhaps you are alone like me, spacious and beautiful remembering with me as we go through our Holy days.   Big Starshine love travels from me to you and from you to me as we hang here in the seasonless sky –

I know you to be well in our togetherness!   So so shiny are we! 

what makes the world go round?

13 Dec

All of us have experienced often the vulnerability of clinging to the money raft on a stormy sea of change!

We are all students of supply and demand.  I have always had enough while also close to the extremes of way more than enough and extremes of need.  I have danced in many arenas and suited up this girl  well enough to fit into them all.   Ease is nice, but stress I found was actually higher in the higher dollar days I knew.  Imagine that!  I had more options, or more created options, that complicated the world I inhabited – I had to learn to navigate for myself the hard way.

Nowadays, I choose to live and interact in the realms where people have known a bit more struggle as opposed to the upwardly mobile movers and shakers.  I have had more eye-to-eye realness in a dollar store than on the she she sides of town.   I  also recognize and am grateful that among the money obsessed, I learned to be myself more clearly.  I learned to walk along my own way; I learned to find the needle of the others along the path in the haystack land of striving .  I got to watch the wheels of karma turn, sometimes, too.

Close to the bone, we have an opportunity to be real.  The struggle can embitter, or the struggle can break open the hard little seed of fear – we can share humanity in the bread line or at the tea party, though the tea party is a bit tougher to enjoy, for me.

The ebb and flow of needs met seems best left to such mysteries as the sea – I move up and down the sandy shore with the rhythms of the earth – I work hard – I try not to worry – I try to share – and not waste – I enjoy the pleasures when they come, often seeking out little indulgences for my tongue, my eyes, my skin that add beauty and joy to my experience and do not cause a moment’s hesitation of ambivalence or guilt.  What is guilt? 🙂

I started my 2nd job yesterday at a senior recreation center – and while the pay is unbelievably low – I liked it.  I feel somewhere deep inside, this is a logical next step  to something else I cannot see yet.   I can teach and also help a bit in a low stress place, full of sunshine through the windows and from within the people who come there.  I feel grateful.

I stare into the fog as it hovers this morning – unable to see but able to sense the green growth spurred on by the bright sun that is obscured but never leaves.

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