For the scientist,
challenge is information.
Information is not conclusion.
Interpretation is always just interpretation.
The experiment continues.
The results are never definitive.
The experience always formative.
And when the experiment enters deep water,
deep water calls forth the skills of a scientist turned diver.
Stability still exists on unsteady ground.
Certainty is fluid,
evolving,
flowing,
transforming with experience.
Clarity illuminates experiences,
blending shadows and light.
Truth exists in parallel forms,
compelling,
not competing,
with one another.
Curiosity,
Creativity,
Compassion,
Flexibility,
Forgiveness,
Courage,
Patience.
Certainty can be
enlarging,
depleting,
dynamic,
not always comfortable,
always informing.
Encountering uncertainty without surrendering discernment.
Inviting
assuredness,
clarity,
and wholeness
as life unfolds
Nourished by the sun.
Refreshed by the rain.
Cradled by the moon.
Lifted by the stars.
Watched over by the animals.
Fed by the earth.
Made resilient in being human.
Unlike any,
Connected to all.
Grateful for this artwork generously shared and created by Susan Kerr.
Flickering hopes.
Embers of struggle.
Burning desire
for connection,
belonging.
Peace sits
beside anguish
in the stillness.
Being
in the not being.
Embracing the shadow
and the light.
Feeling goodness.
Recognizing capacity for love and joy…
and pain and sorrow…
and confusion and disappointment…
Offering laughter and playfulness…
tears and aching.
Ever grateful.
Still longing.
Inviting.
Learning to receive.
Faith,
not hope,
guides discovery.
Recurring smiles
share space with unsettled emptiness,
offering glimpses of spaciousness.
Trust becomes the compass point,
as surrender calls.
Not giving up,
but diving in.
Relinquishing the tight reins of control
to allow the fullness of life to unfold on its own.
Turning towards the depths of the oceans of stability within,
to exist within it all.
Grateful for this artwork generously created and shared by Matt Buncik.
Murky are the surface waters,
Cold and dark, the mud feels heavy.
Abundant are the obstacles to expanding outward.
Unforgiving crevices entice, yet lead nowhere.
Solitary feels this existence.
And still it is called home.
An unknown force – courage perhaps – fuels a simple cell to activate.
A small stirring and restriction becomes the road map.
Containment provides clarity.
Movement replaces stagnation.
This incubation over.
Growth has begun.
Subtly and silently, a leaf
and then a petal.
More and more petals.
Surfacing.
Outstretching.
Unfolding.
Without ceremony.
So Beautiful.
The blossoming that reveals itself from under the mud and muck.
Looking into the web of life,
relationships and experiences overlapping.
Sorting.
Parting.
Finding
gaps and angles
through which to feel,
through which to see,
through which to move.
The veil of consciousness pulls back,
revealing that this filter isn’t to keep the negative, dark or painful elements out,
but to feel the self as
forever capable of
great joy,
ease,
and love,
regardless of all else.
Catching the truth.
Removing doubt
that this life
is here for any other
reason than to notice
and remember
what is
beautiful.
Blockages provide
the pause necessary
to consider
another way.
To look more slowly,
to be grateful for the path that led here,
and not need to make any further progress.
Opening to opportunities
with strength,
creativity
and courage.
Exercising ingenuity.
Obstacles are not a sign of worth.
They are an invitation to become.
I’m not always going to get my way,
but I’m always going to get what’s right for me.
When I let go of forcing outcomes,
stop relying on others for my happiness,
and see obstacles not as a sign of my worth but of my courage and strength,
even what seems like a paralyzing blockage
can be an invitation to take a different path,
go a different way,
or sit right where I am for a moment
and reflect
on the beauty,
awe,
and opportunity
that exists right here,
right now,
just the way things are.
Much gratitude to Shari Irby for contributing this photo.
I am not broken.
Although, perhaps to some I may appear that way.
When I sit in stillness, in the quiet of my own heart, it is clear that I may be chipped.
I may be cracked.
Parts of me may be loose or wobbly,
but there is such a profound beauty
in all of the scars and markings of this worn and tired being,
that I can only imagine
if I were completely broken
I would be even more beautiful.
