Monday Mindfulness

Cultivating Strength, Joy, Peace & Resilience


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Hold Out Your Hand

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As you navigate the path of life, never forget how special you are, how worthy you are of love.  Of self-love.

Hold your own hand, cradle your own heart in your healing palms.  Feel the full bond of acknowledgement, acceptance, and allowing.

When you love yourself, all the other relationships in your life will thrive. No need for anything more.  For by loving yourself, you are loving all.

You are perfectly imperfect, divine and beautiful, whole in every aspect of you…just the way you are.

Love all of that, all of you, and the path will be clear.

 

[due to a publication glitch, the earlier version of this post was inadvertently deleted…apologies for any duplicity]

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Aware versus Analytical

I don’t need a “why.” I just need an “oh.”

Noticing something, my mind quickly jumps in to create a story.

I have this sensation. I will label it. I will now connect it to good or bad. My mind will attach it to a memory and define it as an experience.

How splendid it would be to just notice with curiosity, not the critical mind, as each thought occurs like drops of water. Inquisitively, I watch the water dripping, not seeking to explain its circumstance but simply present in its occurrence.

Awareness without analysis, knowledge for discovery, not proof or justification.

When I “oh” instead of “why”, I “be” instead of “do.”


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Less labeling, more living

I no longer have weekdays and weekends. I simply have days.

I no longer have good days or bad days. I simply have days.

Some days feel heavier and on those days I go slow.

Some days feel lighter and on those days I shine a bit brighter.

Whether heavy or light, I live fully and freely in each day.

It feels better to live without labels.


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Step by Step

There are those who walk within the crosswalk and those who create their own lines. Endless ways to reach your destination. Different challenges in each one. But, when you walk confidently, fully present and in tune with your vibration, there is an unquestionable spring in your step, a natural joy in knowing that you are moving forwards in your own way.

Stepping off the curb is often the toughest part.


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Courageous

If there is ever a time when I feel lost, overwhelmed or confused by the voices of mind and emotions, I need only to take a deep breath. Like a giant bright-colored arrow, my breath points me right back to the space of my heart. Each inhale reminds me of the limitlessness of my self knowing. With each exhale I find the power to trust the truth in my heart, to fearlessly and squarely face whatever lies before me, inside or out. There I find true courage.


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Crystal Clear

My mind says the work shows my value.

My emotions say the work provides purpose.

But my body say the work is tiring.

When out of balance, my body knows suffering, strain and illness.

It goes along with the plan for quite some time until systems become so taxed that it begins to breakdown, accelerating the natural limitlessness of this container.

And still I push on, the ego shouting louder about value and emotions crying for purpose.

Desperate for ease and repair the body collapses.

Foolishly, I believe that this is the only way.

Until I start to listen.

I hear my body’s call for balance now long before exhaustion.

I put down the baton and slow the doing.

I rest.

And I rest.

And I rest.

Sometimes it’s hard to turn off the voices of the doing, the voices of the wanting.

But it is in the space of rest where the tiny voice inside of me reminds me that greater value and purpose is born of nurturing.

Of nurturing this body, this mind, this heart.

Not just feeding, but honoring and loving, all of these aspects of me equally.

In this space, the desire to do and be something blends with the peace and stillness and then it becomes crystal clear that I need nothing more.

It is in the quiet space of rest where I am most powerful, most beautiful, and undeniably most complete.


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The Flurry

Snowflakes are gently falling, wet, heavy, cold. The air is still.  Yet, as if aligned with a predetermined path down, they fall, curling and dancing on invisible threads. How beautifully and carefully they weave the fabric of the newly formed blanket of white.

The landscape now changes. Familiar objects and colors fade as I grasp for their memories.  Each flake masking more and more of what I know, as more of my roots and my foundation fade.

They blur my vision as they spin and race to weave the blanket. They only create the illusion that what I know is no more.

For when I pause to breathe, I see. These dancing flakes inspire a new kind of looking, as if through a clouded window that needs to be cleared. My breath the cloth that wipes the window clean.

Faith reminds me that I know where I am, who I am, even as all I know disappears under the blanket.

And then, almost as quickly as the storm started, the flurry ends. Almost as quickly as they appeared the flakes melt away.

With this new moment, the sun shines. With this new moment, rays of light now dance on the same threads that wove the blanket.

Once more I am reunited with the familiar. Finding my roots and the landscape just as I had left it – once buried, never lost.