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.
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.
The light turns green.
Out of the depot pours the continuous stream of yellow-orange pods.
They move like ants,
single file at first,
jockeying for the lead,
then dispersing.
Like homing pigeons
with seemingly choreographed maneuvers,
they dance across the dashed lines and in between the rows of trees.
They scurry off to their destinations,
one single mission,
primed to transport their precious cargo,
conveyors of potentiality.
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.
Frenetically charging ahead.
Pushing to make something happen.
Squandering the gift time has given of ponderance.
Moving and changing is exhilarating.
The powerful rush of adrenaline
on the grand loops and dips of the roller coaster.
Is that sustainable?
Movement for the sake of movement can release and even bring progress.
Advancing into action
can relieve pain and fear.
It can also bring injury and dis-ease.
There is great potential for harm with repetitive movement absent proper supports and conditioning.
Every decision is filled with regret or acceptance.
Every decision is likely being made in response to fear.
It may be the greatest fear we have is remaining where we are.
Every decision can be empowering.
It may not require striving,
movement
or big changes
to demonstrate prowess,
intellect,
and power.
It may be adventurous.
It may untangle the bonds of current conditions.
Or, it may be escapism,
grandiosity,
avoidance.
It may be a means of hiding
or running away
from the lessons available right where we are.
Just being,
in the stillness,
in the simplicity,
in the temporarily perceived lack
and stagnation
could be just what is needed
to truly free the heart,
open the mind,
and honestly and gratefully embrace one’s spirit.
To boldly go where no one has gone before
may be an invitation
to stay right where we are.
In the space of silence and stillness,
there is an enormous void,
fabulous,
wide open,
freeing.
Or hollow,
isolating,
lonely?
It is one space.
In encountering this space,
there is a choice made instantly.
Inquiry,
assessment,
judgment
all rush in to
analyze,
identify,
interpret.
The recoiling in the stark emptiness is natural –
that moment when the stillness startles and unnerves as it presses against the constricting familiar.
And, each and every time,
that space can be met with
curiosity or fear,
acceptance or resistance.
It is the potentiality that resides in the peace of the heart.
It is a choice to receive it
as a gift
or a challenge
when feeling so fully
and completely
into ourselves.
Gnarled or free flowing.
Grasping or outstretched.
From its center point,
form expands in two directions,
mirrored in the spread of itself confidently into the earth
and it’s expansion courageously into the air.
Nourishment flowing.
Survival impossible without the reflections
of grounding,
of stretching,
of growth,
of change.
One feeding the other,
feeding the other.
Separate in apparent function.
Symbiotic existence as one.
Oh, the wisdom and the entanglement of memories that accompany me
along the path of rising over resistance.
Cutting through the cords of debris from the past.
Mired in the mud of judgment and unmet expectations.
Stuck in the quagmire of fear.
The truth, like a sword, clears the rumination,
making way for the realization that
I can choose growth over stagnation,
healing over habits,
and triumph with awareness and agility,
as I change and make good,
drawing with power on my past.
Fresh water mixes with salt.
The gateway brackish,
murky,
churning.
Swimming against the angry currents of
struggle,
despair,
and loss.
Riding the tides with
flexibility
and fortitude,
trust
and patience.
Constantly changing conditions stir hope and determination.
Survival requires adaptability.
Leaving the familiar marshes of the small, quiet stream
to swim in the wide open playground of the ocean.
This choice
a devotion.
This river of tears
leads to an ocean of joy.
Monday Mindfulness 