January 27th, 2011
“The moment in between what you once were, and who you are now becoming is where the dance of life really takes place.” - Barbara De Angelis –
The music began to fill up my cells. My feet filled up first and my toes began to tap. The music filled up my legs and my hips and whirled round through my belly and slid across my back and shoulders and I began to sway. The music filled up my head and my eyes began to shine and I laughed out loud.
He took my hand and led me to an open space right in front of the musicians. He looked into my eyes and I saw they were filled with the softness of light and happiness. He took my hands and we began to move. My feet were tapping and stepping and twirling me around. Back and forth, over-under, round and round.
For those ten minutes all I knew was the dance. The music. Moving. His eyes shining and us laughing at our sometimes awkward steps. No one taught us the correct moves. We were making it up however the music led us. For those ten minutes there was no fear, no judgments, no failure. Only joy.
Is this what it means to live Present? Maybe the smug little clichés like being fully alive, or living life to the fullest, are really only asking that I let Life begin to fill up all my cells, beginning with my feet (since they’re the part that take me to the next step). Planning is good. Dreams are necessary. Reflection and evaluation are helpful. But the living itself—where the plans are executed, the dreams realized, the learning processed—that is present tense. It is present tense even when I’m not present to notice. I can spend a lot of my life somewhere else besides the moment I’m living. I can spend a lot of my precious days treating life as an odious task to be endured.
I am waking up to the choice that I have as I move through my days: will I live like I’m dancing?
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Saturday, January 8, 2011
MY PATH OF TRANSFORMATION IS FORGIVENESS
December 11, 2010
Thoughts from the Enneagram for me this week:
• Your Path of Transformation is Forgiveness. Who do you need to forgive?
• "I now affirm that I am transforming my life into something higher."
I am transforming my life into something higher than slavery to the whims of my Ego. I am recognizing the strength in the delicate alliance between thought and emotion. I am recognizing also the differences in my thoughts depending on their origin. Thoughts from my heart, from my Higher Mind, align themselves with Universal Truths, with that which sustains Life and Harmony, with that which creates Beauty. Thoughts originating from my heart-mind are of the Light and shine brightly. They draw their strength from Love.
Thoughts originating from my Egoic, human mind vibrate at a lower frequency and are prone to be negative—even when they are superficially “happy thoughts”. These thoughts bend toward judgment and critique and look for what is lacking. These thoughts are self-protective while at the same time are self-destructive. These thoughts respond at a visceral level to whatever emotions are currently manifesting in my body. I look for reasons for the emotions, for someone to blame for them, rather than noting their message and adjusting my thoughts or my activities.
If my path toward this transformation to living from my Higher Mind is forgiveness, who indeed do I need to forgive?
At the very top of the list would be myself. My butterfly wings have been weighed down from flight by regret and guilt and shame. My Egoic mind lives in the past and plans for the future. I am not accustomed to savoring the moment in which I am actually living.
After myself, it will be those I find difficult to respect because of their own harmful, egoic-minded behaviors.
And in a given moment, it will be someone who has treated me with disrespect.
I see the reason that the path of transformation for me is forgiveness. Because in order to forgive I must move out of my egoic-mind into my higher mind. When I feel angry with myself for not doing what I wanted myself to do; or with the Universe for not answering my prayers; or with others because they are not as I think they should be, I must be willing to transcend these immediate negative emotions and pivot my thoughts to the higher truths of Love and Light, truths that transcend the “truth” of what I feel like in the moment. I must be willing to live in the present moment and in this moment notice what is good, what is right, what is lovely and holy. I must be willing to allow what is—and allow others to choose their own path and experiences. I cannot forgive myself or others without making this change in focus.
I have often thought that to have this tolerance and acceptance toward myself or others was weak, passive, apathetic. Like so many other things, I see now that this is indeed the case when we try to love or forgive through the Egoic mind. When we “forgive” or “tolerate” through our egoic nature, we have a tendency toward passive acceptance—I call it the “doormat syndrome”. I don’t think we can truly and deeply forgive, in the way that Jesus talks about in the Christian scripture or the Buddah or any of the Masters, through our egoic nature. We must transcend this and love and forgive from a deeper place within ourselves—from the essence of who we really are, from our divine, eternal, spirit-self.
So, indeed, my path of transformation is the path of forgiveness. Because it is the path of love. Because it requires me to move beyond my Ego into the present,
Thoughts from the Enneagram for me this week:
• Your Path of Transformation is Forgiveness. Who do you need to forgive?
• "I now affirm that I am transforming my life into something higher."
I am transforming my life into something higher than slavery to the whims of my Ego. I am recognizing the strength in the delicate alliance between thought and emotion. I am recognizing also the differences in my thoughts depending on their origin. Thoughts from my heart, from my Higher Mind, align themselves with Universal Truths, with that which sustains Life and Harmony, with that which creates Beauty. Thoughts originating from my heart-mind are of the Light and shine brightly. They draw their strength from Love.
Thoughts originating from my Egoic, human mind vibrate at a lower frequency and are prone to be negative—even when they are superficially “happy thoughts”. These thoughts bend toward judgment and critique and look for what is lacking. These thoughts are self-protective while at the same time are self-destructive. These thoughts respond at a visceral level to whatever emotions are currently manifesting in my body. I look for reasons for the emotions, for someone to blame for them, rather than noting their message and adjusting my thoughts or my activities.
If my path toward this transformation to living from my Higher Mind is forgiveness, who indeed do I need to forgive?
At the very top of the list would be myself. My butterfly wings have been weighed down from flight by regret and guilt and shame. My Egoic mind lives in the past and plans for the future. I am not accustomed to savoring the moment in which I am actually living.
After myself, it will be those I find difficult to respect because of their own harmful, egoic-minded behaviors.
And in a given moment, it will be someone who has treated me with disrespect.
I see the reason that the path of transformation for me is forgiveness. Because in order to forgive I must move out of my egoic-mind into my higher mind. When I feel angry with myself for not doing what I wanted myself to do; or with the Universe for not answering my prayers; or with others because they are not as I think they should be, I must be willing to transcend these immediate negative emotions and pivot my thoughts to the higher truths of Love and Light, truths that transcend the “truth” of what I feel like in the moment. I must be willing to live in the present moment and in this moment notice what is good, what is right, what is lovely and holy. I must be willing to allow what is—and allow others to choose their own path and experiences. I cannot forgive myself or others without making this change in focus.
I have often thought that to have this tolerance and acceptance toward myself or others was weak, passive, apathetic. Like so many other things, I see now that this is indeed the case when we try to love or forgive through the Egoic mind. When we “forgive” or “tolerate” through our egoic nature, we have a tendency toward passive acceptance—I call it the “doormat syndrome”. I don’t think we can truly and deeply forgive, in the way that Jesus talks about in the Christian scripture or the Buddah or any of the Masters, through our egoic nature. We must transcend this and love and forgive from a deeper place within ourselves—from the essence of who we really are, from our divine, eternal, spirit-self.
So, indeed, my path of transformation is the path of forgiveness. Because it is the path of love. Because it requires me to move beyond my Ego into the present,
THE CLOCK WINKED
December 2, 2010
I looked up from this email I’ve been writing instead of the article I was going to write. The clock winked. “Gottcha!”
The afternoon sun has dropped behind the ridge line. My day is spent—on emails and family concerns. It is the fourth day running that my work has remained untouched. I don’t know how to make this happen—this scheduled writing work day. Panic is roiling through my stomach like flood waters through a crevice so that I can’t even think clearly to write now I’ve set myself to the task! Negative thoughts are chasing their tails round and round my brain.
The clock winked. Ahhh, these thoughts; make them sit up and beg with big, sad eyes that will make me smile! That clock will not win.
Let's see. How about a quick peek at what is true about the day? Today I did my qigong meditation and took a shower and went to the doctor for my annual exam. I answered email and made breakfast and read an article about a young man in a coma and his father’s care for him and his hatred of the boy who beat up his son. I was thinking of doing my writing prompt about that…all the hurt we don’t know what to do with. I researched dental insurance for my husband so he wouldn’t have to do that on top of everything else. I did the dishes and a load of laundry and cleaned the toilet downstairs and resupplied the toilet paper in the bathrooms. I got out the pot for the plant from under the back steps so it could thaw. I did another qigong meditation. I worked on learning how to use the tape recorder thinking I would work on transcribing my interviews. I looked up information for my son and compiled it. I listened to my daughter and encouraged her. I made her a smoothie. I went for a walk with the dog. I made supper and chatted with another daughter and did the dishes again. I wrote some more info for my son. I greeted our guest when he arrived. I read about a teleconference and sent the info to my girlfriends. I’m writing this prompt.
I will not judge the day as good or bad. It was a day; another day that I lived. Another day given to me to love my family. Another day that I was able to think about God and my place in the world. Another day that I was able to walk through the snow under the stars and look at the neighbor’s Christmas lights. Another day that I was able to cook and eat healthy, delicious food. Another day to read and write and listen to music and play with the dog. Another day to hug my husband and my girls and see their beautiful faces. Another day of simple pleasures.
The clock winked. I winked back. Time flows like the stream on the hill above my house. I am flowing with it—experiencing many things as I am tumbled along. Only that. Now I am enjoying my meditation music and my tea and my candlelight and then I will rest. As I sleep my body will regenerate so that tomorrow I can continue to experience things and learn and enjoy all that I can.
I have nothing to regret; certainly nothing to fear.
The clock winked. I smiled.
I looked up from this email I’ve been writing instead of the article I was going to write. The clock winked. “Gottcha!”
The afternoon sun has dropped behind the ridge line. My day is spent—on emails and family concerns. It is the fourth day running that my work has remained untouched. I don’t know how to make this happen—this scheduled writing work day. Panic is roiling through my stomach like flood waters through a crevice so that I can’t even think clearly to write now I’ve set myself to the task! Negative thoughts are chasing their tails round and round my brain.
The clock winked. Ahhh, these thoughts; make them sit up and beg with big, sad eyes that will make me smile! That clock will not win.
Let's see. How about a quick peek at what is true about the day? Today I did my qigong meditation and took a shower and went to the doctor for my annual exam. I answered email and made breakfast and read an article about a young man in a coma and his father’s care for him and his hatred of the boy who beat up his son. I was thinking of doing my writing prompt about that…all the hurt we don’t know what to do with. I researched dental insurance for my husband so he wouldn’t have to do that on top of everything else. I did the dishes and a load of laundry and cleaned the toilet downstairs and resupplied the toilet paper in the bathrooms. I got out the pot for the plant from under the back steps so it could thaw. I did another qigong meditation. I worked on learning how to use the tape recorder thinking I would work on transcribing my interviews. I looked up information for my son and compiled it. I listened to my daughter and encouraged her. I made her a smoothie. I went for a walk with the dog. I made supper and chatted with another daughter and did the dishes again. I wrote some more info for my son. I greeted our guest when he arrived. I read about a teleconference and sent the info to my girlfriends. I’m writing this prompt.
I will not judge the day as good or bad. It was a day; another day that I lived. Another day given to me to love my family. Another day that I was able to think about God and my place in the world. Another day that I was able to walk through the snow under the stars and look at the neighbor’s Christmas lights. Another day that I was able to cook and eat healthy, delicious food. Another day to read and write and listen to music and play with the dog. Another day to hug my husband and my girls and see their beautiful faces. Another day of simple pleasures.
The clock winked. I winked back. Time flows like the stream on the hill above my house. I am flowing with it—experiencing many things as I am tumbled along. Only that. Now I am enjoying my meditation music and my tea and my candlelight and then I will rest. As I sleep my body will regenerate so that tomorrow I can continue to experience things and learn and enjoy all that I can.
I have nothing to regret; certainly nothing to fear.
The clock winked. I smiled.
MORGAN'S MESSAGE
BABY MORGAN
October 2010
Tiny boy body. Blue eyes filled up with thoughts. He studies me. Joy, amusement, curiosity, wonder--they are visible in the big blue eyes, the bright smile.
Delight. It is the best word. He is a delight--but he also is delighted with Life. He will be insatiable in his exploration of this world he came to. Every minute he is learning, taking in information, just enjoying being alive. Thoroughly enjoying being alive.
There's a lesson for me here. Enjoy being alive? Thoroughly enjoy being alive and doing all the things I can do each day? Writing. Walking. Experimenting with Energy and meditation. Sorting photos. Making a video. Eating. Cooking. Cleaning. Reading. Hugging someone I love. Seeing beauty around me. Looking into our Dog's big brown eyes when she is "talking" to me. Enjoying being alive with all of Life's contradictions and dualities. Enjoying being alive when I make a choice that doesn't serve me well. Just enjoying being alive.
Morgan. Blue eyes. Smiles. Waving hands. Drumming feet. Squeals and shrieks and giggles and gurgles. My grandson.
Morgan.
October 2010
Tiny boy body. Blue eyes filled up with thoughts. He studies me. Joy, amusement, curiosity, wonder--they are visible in the big blue eyes, the bright smile.
Delight. It is the best word. He is a delight--but he also is delighted with Life. He will be insatiable in his exploration of this world he came to. Every minute he is learning, taking in information, just enjoying being alive. Thoroughly enjoying being alive.
There's a lesson for me here. Enjoy being alive? Thoroughly enjoy being alive and doing all the things I can do each day? Writing. Walking. Experimenting with Energy and meditation. Sorting photos. Making a video. Eating. Cooking. Cleaning. Reading. Hugging someone I love. Seeing beauty around me. Looking into our Dog's big brown eyes when she is "talking" to me. Enjoying being alive with all of Life's contradictions and dualities. Enjoying being alive when I make a choice that doesn't serve me well. Just enjoying being alive.
Morgan. Blue eyes. Smiles. Waving hands. Drumming feet. Squeals and shrieks and giggles and gurgles. My grandson.
Morgan.
LIKE DROPS OF THE SEA
The Sea rolls over and over upon Itself
coming suddenly to this rocky shore of Blue and Earth.
I am flung from Heaven Earthward--
a shining liquid diamond--joyfully airborne--
igniting Fire in the heart of this earthen body-suit.
I have only a few delicious moments
to experience this separateness--
to nourish Life where my foot falls,
to heal what my hand can hold
And then the Sea rolls over and over upon Itself
and I am gathered up again
into the arms of this Sea of Light--
this Universe--
this Pure Love
from Whom all things have their Being.
coming suddenly to this rocky shore of Blue and Earth.
I am flung from Heaven Earthward--
a shining liquid diamond--joyfully airborne--
igniting Fire in the heart of this earthen body-suit.
I have only a few delicious moments
to experience this separateness--
to nourish Life where my foot falls,
to heal what my hand can hold
And then the Sea rolls over and over upon Itself
and I am gathered up again
into the arms of this Sea of Light--
this Universe--
this Pure Love
from Whom all things have their Being.
LOVE THY NEIGHBOR AS THYSELF...
September 20, 2010
When I watch others malign themselves, emotionally abuse themselves, belittle, judge, and condemn themselves I see how ridiculous it is that we do this. What part of us is doing the hating? What part of us do we hate? Why?
I can buy into how precious someone else is—a baby, an old person, a stressed out mother, a teenage boy who is struggling to become a man. Why can’t I have the same compassion and respect for myself?
It feels to me like the more aware I have become of my egoic nature, my higher Self, and my purely human self, the more I am aware of the schisms within myself. I realize the need for there to be integration and harmony within myself.
We are like drops of water flung from the wave of the Sea as it rolls over itself. For a shining moment the drop is independent, experiencing the world separate from the Sea. Does that drop wish to have it’s own name, a history to stand upon, a vision for it’s future? Does it plan to do great and mighty things and leave a sparkling legacy before it finally is reclaimed by the Sea? Is it content to fall upon the rock and feel the icy breath of winter crystalize it—and then the heat of the Sun as it melts and is taken up into the clouds? Is it envious of the drop that fell upon the sand, or the passing ship, or the one that clung to the arm of the swimmer as she walked along the beach?
I have only this brief, shining moment in Time to experience Life and what is being created from the perspective of a human woman at this time in history and in this place. I come from the Sea of Light, and to it I will inevitably return. My body came from Mother Earth, and to her it shall return. Only this brief, shining moment in the world is mine. What do I want most to do and to see and to learn and to be?
And why in the world should I waste the precious minutes of this very brief opportunity to be in the world doing violence to myself and to others for not being something other than we are?
When I watch others malign themselves, emotionally abuse themselves, belittle, judge, and condemn themselves I see how ridiculous it is that we do this. What part of us is doing the hating? What part of us do we hate? Why?
I can buy into how precious someone else is—a baby, an old person, a stressed out mother, a teenage boy who is struggling to become a man. Why can’t I have the same compassion and respect for myself?
It feels to me like the more aware I have become of my egoic nature, my higher Self, and my purely human self, the more I am aware of the schisms within myself. I realize the need for there to be integration and harmony within myself.
We are like drops of water flung from the wave of the Sea as it rolls over itself. For a shining moment the drop is independent, experiencing the world separate from the Sea. Does that drop wish to have it’s own name, a history to stand upon, a vision for it’s future? Does it plan to do great and mighty things and leave a sparkling legacy before it finally is reclaimed by the Sea? Is it content to fall upon the rock and feel the icy breath of winter crystalize it—and then the heat of the Sun as it melts and is taken up into the clouds? Is it envious of the drop that fell upon the sand, or the passing ship, or the one that clung to the arm of the swimmer as she walked along the beach?
I have only this brief, shining moment in Time to experience Life and what is being created from the perspective of a human woman at this time in history and in this place. I come from the Sea of Light, and to it I will inevitably return. My body came from Mother Earth, and to her it shall return. Only this brief, shining moment in the world is mine. What do I want most to do and to see and to learn and to be?
And why in the world should I waste the precious minutes of this very brief opportunity to be in the world doing violence to myself and to others for not being something other than we are?
IS HEAVEN FOR REAL?
December 1, 2010
Thoughts on "Heaven is for Real"—a book about a little boy who visited heaven during his surgery.
What do I do with this information? I spent an hour in the store skimming through the book, Heaven is For Real, a “true story” written by the boy’s father who is a Christian pastor. The little boy, in bits and pieces the way a young child would do, over weeks and months and even years, related what and who he saw and talked to while in heaven. His descriptions matched those given in the Bible--the book of Revelations in particular. What the little boy said Jesus looked like ended up matching a painting done by a 12 year old girl who has claimed to also have visited or had visions of heaven and other-worldly beings including Jesus and angels—and has been able to paint them. While there, he says he met a sister that his mother had miscarried so early in the pregnancy there was no way of knowing the sex—and a fact the boy had no way of knowing. He met his great-grandfather and later easily picked him out of a photo when the man was only 29 years old and the boy had never seen photos of him, young or old.
The heaven he described, however, seemed strange to me. Especially what he describe while "hanging out" in the throne room. It almost sounded like a scene from Mount Olympus with the robes and sashes, the crowns and rainbows, the swords and wings and the golden gates with pearls.
What really began to upset me though was the little boy’s impression that unless someone had Jesus in their heart, they wouldn’t be allowed in. He didn’t say where they would go so the reviewer, who automatically assumed these others would be damned, might not be on target. So, I thought, are there lots of Mount Olympuses, one to mirror each culture’s idea of the hereafter? And will you only be allowed into the one you align with? Are these places and Beings really what in scientific terms we would call “other worlds”, or “other dimensions” or alien Beings and planets?
Religious groups speak of gods and all the rules and regulations that must be honored and obeyed in order to please them and thus be found acceptable and be blessed. Other people talk of the ancestors and a Great Spirit. Others speak of other “alien” Beings and space ships and things right out of science fiction. Others are saying we are all One and part of the Energy Field that is God. Who to believe?
Having been rooted in the Christian stories and traditions for most of my life, it isn’t difficult for me to want to gravitate toward Jesus—to wanting the story of his life to be true. It is hard when some historian points out that the myths around Jesus are only another version of much older stories. It is hard to know how to reconcile what science has begun to prove about energy and the connectedness of all things--the power of our thoughts to create--with a simple “be good, ask Jesus in your heart, and you will go to this heaven when you die”; all very passive, really, for we ask “God” to do everything for us--help us, strengthen us, heal us, provide for us, protect us, give us wisdom, let us win the game or the war or the lottery.
I know how I feel when I read Eckert Tolle, or listen to Keisha Crowther, or watch the people from tribes all over the world come together to call the whales. I feel moved to do better, to care more, to love more, to invite more light into my being. When I read Heaven is for Real I feel afraid, I feel left out and confused, I feel angry for all those who according to this won’t be allowed "in" because they sought to love and be light through a different way and tradition.
I am so impatient with this veil that is between me and the “other side”. I want to rip it down, to understand and to see what is true. Some people are allowed to slip through while still living in these body suits here on Mother Earth. But perhaps most of us will not be allowed through until we leave these bodies. I understand better what she means when Keisha Crowther says what a wonderous thing then it is, that even in this darkness, we would choose to reach for the light and to love, even not knowing exactly what or who is out there watching us, waiting for us, cheering for us or opposing us.
I suppose that is my answer. Lay aside my demand to know. Embrace my life as it is and what I can comprehend of the Universe. Do the one thing that I do know has been asked of me: to learn to love well. To walk, run, breathe, eat and sleep love and acceptance. Not passively, but yet without judgment. Loving Mother Earth. Loving the animals. Loving people—the ones I agree with and the ones who do harm, both. Forgiving. Feeling and acting with compassion. Being directed by kindness. For myself, for others, for all.
Also, to accept whatever comes into my life today, even while asking for what I desire, what I believe I need. To envision the good for others and the world that I desire to be reality.
In the end it doesn’t matter which god might be in charge of all the others, or who is seeing what visions or having encounters with what Beings. Is their message about love? Is it about creating a world of light and beauty and health and strength and love for all beings?
Am I choosing to love?
Thoughts on "Heaven is for Real"—a book about a little boy who visited heaven during his surgery.
What do I do with this information? I spent an hour in the store skimming through the book, Heaven is For Real, a “true story” written by the boy’s father who is a Christian pastor. The little boy, in bits and pieces the way a young child would do, over weeks and months and even years, related what and who he saw and talked to while in heaven. His descriptions matched those given in the Bible--the book of Revelations in particular. What the little boy said Jesus looked like ended up matching a painting done by a 12 year old girl who has claimed to also have visited or had visions of heaven and other-worldly beings including Jesus and angels—and has been able to paint them. While there, he says he met a sister that his mother had miscarried so early in the pregnancy there was no way of knowing the sex—and a fact the boy had no way of knowing. He met his great-grandfather and later easily picked him out of a photo when the man was only 29 years old and the boy had never seen photos of him, young or old.
The heaven he described, however, seemed strange to me. Especially what he describe while "hanging out" in the throne room. It almost sounded like a scene from Mount Olympus with the robes and sashes, the crowns and rainbows, the swords and wings and the golden gates with pearls.
What really began to upset me though was the little boy’s impression that unless someone had Jesus in their heart, they wouldn’t be allowed in. He didn’t say where they would go so the reviewer, who automatically assumed these others would be damned, might not be on target. So, I thought, are there lots of Mount Olympuses, one to mirror each culture’s idea of the hereafter? And will you only be allowed into the one you align with? Are these places and Beings really what in scientific terms we would call “other worlds”, or “other dimensions” or alien Beings and planets?
Religious groups speak of gods and all the rules and regulations that must be honored and obeyed in order to please them and thus be found acceptable and be blessed. Other people talk of the ancestors and a Great Spirit. Others speak of other “alien” Beings and space ships and things right out of science fiction. Others are saying we are all One and part of the Energy Field that is God. Who to believe?
Having been rooted in the Christian stories and traditions for most of my life, it isn’t difficult for me to want to gravitate toward Jesus—to wanting the story of his life to be true. It is hard when some historian points out that the myths around Jesus are only another version of much older stories. It is hard to know how to reconcile what science has begun to prove about energy and the connectedness of all things--the power of our thoughts to create--with a simple “be good, ask Jesus in your heart, and you will go to this heaven when you die”; all very passive, really, for we ask “God” to do everything for us--help us, strengthen us, heal us, provide for us, protect us, give us wisdom, let us win the game or the war or the lottery.
I know how I feel when I read Eckert Tolle, or listen to Keisha Crowther, or watch the people from tribes all over the world come together to call the whales. I feel moved to do better, to care more, to love more, to invite more light into my being. When I read Heaven is for Real I feel afraid, I feel left out and confused, I feel angry for all those who according to this won’t be allowed "in" because they sought to love and be light through a different way and tradition.
I am so impatient with this veil that is between me and the “other side”. I want to rip it down, to understand and to see what is true. Some people are allowed to slip through while still living in these body suits here on Mother Earth. But perhaps most of us will not be allowed through until we leave these bodies. I understand better what she means when Keisha Crowther says what a wonderous thing then it is, that even in this darkness, we would choose to reach for the light and to love, even not knowing exactly what or who is out there watching us, waiting for us, cheering for us or opposing us.
I suppose that is my answer. Lay aside my demand to know. Embrace my life as it is and what I can comprehend of the Universe. Do the one thing that I do know has been asked of me: to learn to love well. To walk, run, breathe, eat and sleep love and acceptance. Not passively, but yet without judgment. Loving Mother Earth. Loving the animals. Loving people—the ones I agree with and the ones who do harm, both. Forgiving. Feeling and acting with compassion. Being directed by kindness. For myself, for others, for all.
Also, to accept whatever comes into my life today, even while asking for what I desire, what I believe I need. To envision the good for others and the world that I desire to be reality.
In the end it doesn’t matter which god might be in charge of all the others, or who is seeing what visions or having encounters with what Beings. Is their message about love? Is it about creating a world of light and beauty and health and strength and love for all beings?
Am I choosing to love?
TAKING THE RISK TO LIVE
TAKING THE RISK TO LIVE
August 30, 2010
“If you don’t risk anything, you risk more.” Erica Jong
When I shrink from living, I risk wasting my life. Everyday that the sun gets up and I am still breathing is a gift. This sounds cliché; Hallmark cardish. Sappy Mom stuff as my kids might say. But it is never-the-less, true.
My good friend’s sister died a year and a half ago after several years of struggling to survive what began as breast cancer. During that time she recorded a song that has stuck with me. The refrain: Simple pleasures take on new meaning for me when I think that I might cease to be. Making a piece of toast in the morning and a perfect cup of tea and having breakfast on the couch…buying a tomato from the Farmer’s Market down the street…going outside in the pale moonlight…dancing in the kitchen, these were some of Pam’s simple pleasures.
I have opportunities every day to connect with my family, with my friends, with strangers. I have opportunities every day to meditate and enjoy my healthy body and walk through my beautiful neighborhood here in the Northland. I have opportunities every day to care for my little house and to cook healthy and tasty food. I have opportunities every day to write. Ceasing to be is not staring me in the face as it was Pam, but it will come eventually.
Yet, even knowing this, I struggle not with cancer of my body tissues, but with a more insidious kind of cancer, a cancer of my mind—one that robs me of my desire to embrace the opportunities in my life. What I must risk is living. I used to wrinkle up my forehead at the overused phrase: living life to the fullest. What does that really mean, I would wonder? I think now for me it means to appreciate every opportunity I have to live with awareness of the present moment beginning with being able to get out of my bed and stretch and wonder what the day might hold for me. What blessings, what lessons, what pleasures, what opportunities to give to others, to love people and animals and the earth—what will I be able to experience of life today? And then to live the day fully by embracing whatever comes, whatever I am privileged to experience, to learn and to do.
It sounds simple on paper. But my mind can create illusions of hardship and fatigue so real that I crumble and allow another day to slip away, barely lived, barely noticed, unappreciated. Sometimes I really do not do those things that I might have and that might have brought me much pleasure and joy or growth. Sometimes I lose sight of what I have done or experienced because I am focused on what didn’t happen, or a mistake I made, or something in the world that angers me. I rush along not noticing.
When I don’t risk embracing my life, I risk losing it.
When I don’t risk writing, I risk taking my gifts to the grave, unshared.
When I don’t show up in my own life, there is a vacancy.
August 30, 2010
“If you don’t risk anything, you risk more.” Erica Jong
When I shrink from living, I risk wasting my life. Everyday that the sun gets up and I am still breathing is a gift. This sounds cliché; Hallmark cardish. Sappy Mom stuff as my kids might say. But it is never-the-less, true.
My good friend’s sister died a year and a half ago after several years of struggling to survive what began as breast cancer. During that time she recorded a song that has stuck with me. The refrain: Simple pleasures take on new meaning for me when I think that I might cease to be. Making a piece of toast in the morning and a perfect cup of tea and having breakfast on the couch…buying a tomato from the Farmer’s Market down the street…going outside in the pale moonlight…dancing in the kitchen, these were some of Pam’s simple pleasures.
I have opportunities every day to connect with my family, with my friends, with strangers. I have opportunities every day to meditate and enjoy my healthy body and walk through my beautiful neighborhood here in the Northland. I have opportunities every day to care for my little house and to cook healthy and tasty food. I have opportunities every day to write. Ceasing to be is not staring me in the face as it was Pam, but it will come eventually.
Yet, even knowing this, I struggle not with cancer of my body tissues, but with a more insidious kind of cancer, a cancer of my mind—one that robs me of my desire to embrace the opportunities in my life. What I must risk is living. I used to wrinkle up my forehead at the overused phrase: living life to the fullest. What does that really mean, I would wonder? I think now for me it means to appreciate every opportunity I have to live with awareness of the present moment beginning with being able to get out of my bed and stretch and wonder what the day might hold for me. What blessings, what lessons, what pleasures, what opportunities to give to others, to love people and animals and the earth—what will I be able to experience of life today? And then to live the day fully by embracing whatever comes, whatever I am privileged to experience, to learn and to do.
It sounds simple on paper. But my mind can create illusions of hardship and fatigue so real that I crumble and allow another day to slip away, barely lived, barely noticed, unappreciated. Sometimes I really do not do those things that I might have and that might have brought me much pleasure and joy or growth. Sometimes I lose sight of what I have done or experienced because I am focused on what didn’t happen, or a mistake I made, or something in the world that angers me. I rush along not noticing.
When I don’t risk embracing my life, I risk losing it.
When I don’t risk writing, I risk taking my gifts to the grave, unshared.
When I don’t show up in my own life, there is a vacancy.
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