Smiles and laughter have a beautiful way of resonating in our hearts forever, like the vibration of music carried on the wind. The music is always there…we just sometimes have to stop to listen for it.
A tear carves a cool path along my skin. My heart pounds furiously against the constricted edges of my body. Focused on my imperfections, I am frozen.
Motionless, my attention is suddenly diverted to a deep and robust murmur in the sky. I slowly turn and open my eyes to find a hummingbird still yet racing in the sky before me.
Wings fluttering so quickly I cannot see them, heart beating 500 times the speed of mine, there it hovers, searching just like me for nourishment in its motionless.
It’s lightness as much a reality as my heaviness.
Joy and freedom projecting from its racing heart and pounding wings.
My racing heart begins to feel less burdened.
My constricted body is now inspired to move.
The illusion I’ve created of my suffering fades.
I find nourishment in transforming my experiences into joy and lightness, choosing the qualities of a hummingbird over failure.
Sometimes I eat to soothe.
I eat to drown.
I eat to fuel,
to ease my nerves,
Sometimes I eat to fit in.
Sometimes I eat to feel loved.
There should be no shame or guilt in my eating. It is in the stories I weave of need, of loss and pain, where the suffering sets in. Stories of worthiness, of import. Stories based in anger, fear, and greed…towards the outside world and more strikingly towards myself.
Sometimes our stories weave together and then again we may just appear odd to one another.
So, we hold a space for each to simply taste, receive, be grateful and full, where there is no longing…no gaps to fill, no stories to write or rewrite,
where the order of eating is founded in mercy, grace, and love.
When I feel burdened, I go outside
and feel the whispers of Mother Earth through my feet,
knowing I am held in the vast container of the Universe
where there is ample room for me
and all of my emotions,
There where the earth meets the sky, I can pour it all out
and let the knot at the center of this struggle
begin to unravel.
There I feel the freedom in knowing I am not alone.
I am, in fact, cradled lovingly,
in these arms,
my breath as full and free as the sky,
my spirit rooting down.
When I step outside,
I step into being all of me.
Holding out hope for resolution or dissolution of pain or suffering brings heartache…a direct misalignment of the brain and heart as the heart knows that change is needed but the head resists the shift because it’s too much work to reorganize the memories, beliefs, stories. Gestures we make toward evolution instead of resolution free us to make transitions knowing all will be ok.
The shift doesn’t erase or do away with feelings – it alters receptivity and focus, it forges new pathways of being and seeing and offers a beautiful contrast informing contentment, the capacity to just be, absent good or bad. Contentment when fully present and balanced fuels joy and joy fuels awe…unconditional delight in experiencing evolution over resolution.
Together we navigate the waves and sands of life,
Asking simple questions like “what shall we eat today?”
Or “do you think it will rain?”
We sometimes gather with the flock to catch up and share in our collective presence and strength.
There is always the hierarchy to navigate and the stories of others that come into play – no less delightful but requiring a different form of focus and care nonetheless.
But when we walk alone at the waters edge in the silence,
knowing each other’s thoughts,
sensing the world together,
equal in the space we occupy,
that is when I feel at my best
and know my Self the most.
Mired in the fog of fatigue, loss, and self-doubt,
I am more fragile these days,
More prone to tears,
aware of tightness,
Heavy and slower moving,
almost desperate to break free.
Oh, to relieve the longing,
To return to my true nature.
I am more fragile these days,
but not broken.
Tucked away for now,
but I will surely bloom again.
I tried to grow straight and tall like them. I worked just as hard as they did to grow.
But, it seems I am unfolding differently. I wonder if you see me as suffering, wilting or weak. Do you think I am lacking in nourishment or attention? Perhaps I strike you as non-compliant or maybe even deformed.
Why can’t it just be that because of me their poise and beauty are more prominent while my stature is no less dear?
Could there be room enough in this vase for all of us to be equally valued and admired?
Every day, I tenderly pluck and sort the unwanted guests between the treasured plants in the garden of this life of mine. I carefully reach between the stalks and flowers I choose to keep and arrange them all just so.
And, even with the most careful attention, I never leave my garden without scrapes, brush marks and bruises.
Yes, some of the most treasured plants in my garden have thorns. I move with particular sensitivity around them lest they snag my flesh. And somehow even as they cut me, I am still able to see their beauty and feel their special worth. They reach out and brush against me as if they just want to touch, to say “isn’t this all so grand that we are here?!”
It is at that moment when I am wounded but still capable of loving – even those plants with thorns – that I recognize that this coexistence is the essence of thriving.
So proud of you for letting those tears go, no longer clinging to the emotions to which they had attached themselves.
When you cry, I do not see sadness. I see freedom. I feel the release of beliefs and emotions that are out of balance with your natural state of being.
When you cry, I see you coming home to the love and peace within you and coming into a greater knowing of who you really are.
Enjoy the cry my friend. Let the river of love crest it’s banks and pour out of you so that you can once more rest along its edge or swim in its soft currents as it washes away the imbalances, injustices, inequities, and imperfections that may feel as if they are confining you.
Let love flow freely on every tear. Fall into the comfort and release of crying.