Thinking…thinking….thinking….
No room for the heart to heal.
The cast iron vault concealing deep and splintering wounds too fragile to expose.
Can the world handle the explosion?
Is it ready for the imprisoned love and joy to be released?
Will critical thoughts, past hurts, and fear prevent the unleashing?
Oh, to find creativity again…
For creativity to find me.
Touching once more vitality,
vibrancy,
and free expression.
All that is left to do is to
Feel…feel…feel…
I stop to touch the tree trunk as I walk by.
My nose perceives the sweetness of bright white clusters of flowers on the horizon and the moistness of the ground beneath me.
I watch as stillness and movement come and go.
I sense the invisible currents of the air
that bring me sounds,
some familiar and many more curious.
This is the work of being on this earth.
Not leaving memories,
but making them.
When I peel away the stories,
When I release the plans I made,
When I drop into this very moment,
I see and feel so clearly
The peace,
The grace,
The love,
And the joy
At the core of my being.
I know this as the truth.
This mountain could not have been built of anything less.
This mountain I now climb provides the vantage point from which I launch into my unboundedness.
I am so powerful that I can command my own suffering to inform change.
I am so creative that I can find solutions to the underlying mysteries of my experiences.
I am so brave that I can step into my full consciousness and awareness with grace.
I am so smart that I can turn to love, kindness, and joy at any moment,
cultivating it within and inspiring it around me,
even in a world focused on being something else.
The air turns cool.
Sound becomes distorted.
Sight goes offline.
Simultaneous smallness and vastness set in.
Swaddled simplicity meets rattled uncertainty.
The compass loses its point of focus,
directionality irrelevant.
Bending and moving through unfamiliar spaces,
offering lessons in courage,
the darkness is only temporary.
In her enormity,
unruliness,
and most unyielding state,
she is soft,
subtle,
clear in her direction,
ever capable of moving,
shifting,
adapting,
aligned,
attuned,
resonate,
in her power
and beauty.
We drink of her,
ride upon her crests,
sink cradled in her stillness,
follow her home,
allow her to absorb our burdens,
as we find peace by her side.
She reflects back to us always
what we need most to see.
The gift of sight is precious.
And the gift of sight quite limiting.
Energy bent,
refracted,
contorted,
to fit the confines of the mind.
Even with eyes closed,
the mind is seeing.
All of it fabricated.
If the image banks once overflowing were purged,
all unseen,
what would remain?
The seer.
The knower behind and beyond the images.
The opportunity to reimagine,
as in dreams,
as in daydreams,
as in reality,
all for the sake of being seen.
The current flows through me like a lightening bolt.
Jaggedly it rips at my center.
The burning wake of hollowness almost crumbles me to the ground.
As the charge hits the earth,
it dissipates,
diffuses,
extinguished in a flash.
Breath and smoldering flesh hang on.
Roots cling to the soil,
unhinged by the destruction.
The sky still dark,
the air now still,
droplets descend from the clouds as a small peace offering and attempt to soothe.
Shhhh….
calls out the rain.
You will prevail.
Forever changed, yes.
Wearing the beautiful mark
of challenge overcome,
and your willingness to be a conduit
for the powerful energy of
change.
This existence
is not to be hijacked
by a search for meaning.
It is an opportunity for knowing.
There need not be searching
or seeking,
striving or controlling.
Engage the senses.
Unlock the mind.
Move the body.
Come into the knowing.
Of gentleness as strength.
Of vulnerability as power.
Of tenderness as intelligence.
Tap into the council of thoughts and feelings.
Enlist curiosity
as a teacher,
and grace as the doorkeeper.
Flanked by patience and excitement as treasured friends,
need nothing,
lack nothing,
owe nothing,
prove nothing.
Let truth be clouded by nothing.
Nothing needs control.
In a state of knowing,
nothing matters.
If our morals and beliefs suggest that we should all
love,
support,
and guide one another,
then wouldn’t true,
authentic
moral conviction
show up in the form of
grace
and forgiveness,
not shackles?
A calling back of the misguided to the embrace of
patience and gentleness,
not humiliation
and chastisement.
The invitation
to not be isolated,
but to come closer.
To take accountability.
To grieve in communion
for the loss
of others wounded by their actions
and
for their own internal suffering.
To wail in the arms of
a community
that shoulders mistakes,
missteps,
and misdeeds,
with understanding and humility,
no matter how egregious
on the surface.
To shed tears together to cleanse,
not punish,
embrace,
not discard,
teach,
not convict.
Monday Mindfulness 