An enthusiastic and naïve seagull swoops down on a tiny fish sparkling near the surface of the softly rippling waves.
It eagerly dives in and grasps the silvery treasure.
A simple maneuver performed hundreds of times in the past turns immediately to struggle as a hook and clear line at the end of a poll entangle the unsuspecting.
Soon the sky fills as the silent call for help produces a furry of circling, screeching, and diving.
All are now hovering, pensively and purposefully.
A shirt comes off to cover the bird as nimble hands work to untangle the lines.
The air is filled with insecurity and uncertainty.
A cloud of judgment forms.
It is the bird’s fault.
It is the fisherman’s fault.
They are saving the bird.
They are hurting the bird.
All is a swirl in the energetic exchange of emotions and actions.
Soon there is a release, a cutting free, a letting go.
And none are left untarnished.
There is not an immediate sense of relief as one might expect.
Heads hang heavy, perhaps even filled with shame and remorse.
The drenched shirt, the cut line, the disheveled demeanor of all reminds us that even when the urgent rescue and the struggle dissolve,
There is a residual current of pain that must be allowed to dissipate and transform.
Even in the shortest-lived trauma, there must be a space following for grief, loss, and healing.
No participant in this event is untouched.
Only those who feel fully, surrender to the flood of intense sensations, and tend the wounds of the entanglement will be fully free.
A period of rest and repair is needed for all.
Shaking,
pruning,
pacing,
sounding,
slowing down,
and reconnecting
to the earth,
the water,
and the air,
each participant is offered a blanket of grace, compassion, and love to wrap around them in order for the judgment, fear, shame, and pain to subside.
In due time, as they forgive one another, they once more wander the edge of the sea, seeking nourishment, seeing differently, and feeling a part of something greater,
a net of seemingly invisible lines meant to connect and secure us, and sometimes harrowingly entangling,
slippery mud warns of the potential danger in crossing.
Yet here I am, knowing this is the way to go.
I watch as the current jets and swerves around the moss and algae covered rocks scattered in the creek.
I find the most narrow crossing and yet it seems like still an impassible ravine.
My body tightens with anxiety,
For a moment I choose fear in response to this opportunity to move in a new direction.
In the tightening, frozen, I am,
dreading staying where I am equally to where I know I must go.
Then the anxiety speaks more loudly.
My breath grabs at my chest.
Sweat speckles my skin.
I must make the crossing.
That is my destiny.
I step out onto one rock and
with breath unconvinced of my safety the path begins to unfold.
I pause.
Instead of dashing quickly across the precariously and wide spread rocks,
I reach out to the rock before me and test its steadiness.
In the past I might not have made a connection – I might have tried to move urgently, wobbly and unsure, holding my breath and perhaps even crashing in the cold rushing water…blaming the rocks.
Today, my anxiety informs me of my power to pause,
to narrow my attention, my body, and my focus.
I don’t need to take the path as it is.
I tense not with fear but with agency as I move my muscles into action.
I reach down and shift the unsteady rock before me.
It’s heavy and at first won’t move.
So I narrow and tighten more until I funnel the tightness into strength.
The rock moves…and so do the others beyond it…and so do I.
The rocks settle.
I settle.
My chest releases.
My breath deepens.
My body advances forward,
grounded and a bit more sure.
There are a few more stones to go but I now know I don’t need to take them as they are.
Why is it when I step out of my suffering, I am uncomfortable with the suffering of others?
Guilt arises at the feeling that I am free of pain somehow at their expense.
It is difficult to exercise compassion for the suffering of another when I hold no compassion for myself and the value of feeling pain free.
Compassion wrapped in guilt results in creating a false story in order to take on someone else’s.
True empathy is understanding suffering, holding a space of great strength and courage – enough for both of us – rising from my own pain and rising even higher from my own joy and knowing that by maintaining my balance, finesse, and freedom I offer more room for healing than by falsely taking on the suffering of others.
Compassion without guilt provides a clear path to alleviate suffering.
Compassion filled with joy brings independence, hope and healing.
It doesn’t matter how much power you have if you don’t allow it to burst out and serve you.
So many times I have used my power to suppress my own needs, my voice, my self-advocacy…all for the sake of “preserving the peace.” But, how can peace be preserved when a battle rages within me to suppress my own feelings and needs simply to avoid the risk of imploring you to revel in my power to know myself. Ah, yes, there is a chance that you will be wounded in the wake of my power, but that wound I can hold with much greater compassion than the devastation that comes from turning my power against myself.
My power transforms from exploding within to bright and shining rays of love and truth when authentically attuned. I begin to recognize that honesty is a demonstration of true prowess and the recognition of woundedness an opportunity to be powerful in kindness, forgiveness, and grace.
My power magnifies when I allow it to burst out and serve me, so much so that it can hold all of the discomfort, all of the woundedness, all of the needs and feelings — yours and mine – and in that outburst peace is preserved.
I am experimenting more and more with loving myself these days…not being safe or shoring up relationships to develop a sense of connection but authentic appreciation for who and where I am. I am showing up in the knowing that I have my intuition (that I will call Self) as a guide and while connection with community is an important element of the human experience, connection with my Self is just as crucial.
As I am learning to love myself, I am maneuvering through the awkward balance between selfish and selfless to find the sustainable space between…where ego informs, intuition guides, and I hold onto no preconceptions of what that will look and feel like as I determine what best serves.
The chain that secured the familiar is rattling. Full of insecurities, yours and mine, it informs as I release its grip on my heart, rusty links untangling for all of us to see that freedom is possible.
As I am rattling the chain around my heart I ask that you consider letting your chain rattle too to make room for a new way of showing up for you and for me.
Either way, I will be free but it might be more fun to conspire in the unchaining together.
Individuality is lost as droplets leap into the air then instantly become consumed by the primal tugging, pulling, pushing, of the random rhythms.
There is something familiar in the curling, crashing surf. A sound and feeling calling me into its whisper, a deafening roar somehow barely audible.
It speaks of protecting me,
clearing my hurts and the world’s imperfections even before I know of them.
The spray catches my cheek.
Resonance of life force and love pulsing on the tide, pulsing through me.
I am consumed, transported back to the space and time when all I knew was the wooshing, whirling roar of silence in the womb.
My individuality is imperceivable.
I know precisely who I am…I am all.
It is with this magnificence that I crest the next wave dancing momentarily, singularly in the air and time and time again am happily reabsorbed into the flow,
into the moment of truth where I know I am the love and the life force that pulses with and through it all.
Monday Mindfulness 