Poor behavior is a sign of a loss of agency.
Lashing out at the circumstances around me instead of diving into the power within me.
There within I always have the capacity to choose, to “re-cognize” and bring back into my mental awareness my own tools of agency. I don’t need someone else to pick me up, to defend me, or clear the way for me.
I can feel confident, strong, and happy through my own decision making.
Whatever the story, with agency I can produce my own powerful, beautiful ending.
In the darkness, fear and anger deepen their grip on me. Bumping up against ideals, opinions, and stories that I have formed, with urgency I am compelled to avenge imbalances and inequities. I dash in to sweep up the broken pieces of what I perceive as attacks against me and struggle surrounding me. I am driven to defend principles that through my ego’s eye define me.
This posture that I take implies superiority and gives way to judgment. In my rush to right the wrongs, I become the being I so justly argue against. Resentment bubbles up and my ego says, “they are not worthy…they should be punished…they do not belong…silence them…shun them.”
And then my heart whispers, “wait…they too are suffering.” Those opinions I defend and just as importantly those I oppose are here to guide, test, and inform me.
To release my struggle, my fear, my anger, and my suffering, others do not need to pay a conjured debt for who they are.
Compassion, patience, and trust become my weapons against the injustices, inequities, and imbalances that swirl around me.
Allowing it all to exist and maintaining harmony, care, and peace…that is the true work of an activist.
Tucked into the crevices,
Buried between the rocks and sand,
Are little moments,
Precious little glimpses of life’s greatest gifts hiding just beneath the surface.
I could easily pass them by if not for the jagged edges that reach up, poking at my being.
This uneven landscape calls for greater awareness.
I draw upon my deepest core for balance so that the pressure and discomfort do not become too great.
Those jagged edges remind me that I have not chosen the easy path, but I am capable of walking this path just the same.
Those jagged edges belong to the moments that will require the greatest courage and persistence, but unquestionably will cause rise to the fullest form of me.
My heart feels quickly, as if flowing on subtle currents in the air. Ego moves faster, thrusting against the wind. Emotions lag behind but still they dance closely together, ego and feelings.
Guided by the dance, I strut and swirl around with urgency, bravado, and sprawling feathers. Responding to surface winds, impulsively flying in a defensive posture, these auto-pilot movements are built on the residue of my stories.
Something shifts and suddenly I am still. For a moment, my intuition takes the lead. There is no need for flight , no rush to action. I know all I need to know as I slow these frenetic motions.
I land. I unruffle. In the not-doing, I am even more than I was just moments before. I hang here in the peace and stillness of slow-looking.
When I land, I am my most powerful.
In the midst of the storm, I feel small and helpless. There is fear that the storm will overcome me.
I know of the danger in advance, but I ignore the warnings to back away. Instead, I hunker down. That is when the floods start, conflict swirls in all directions and visibility is reduced to nothing.
My heart pounds. I struggle to catch my breath, to make logical choices, and to know how to care for me and those around me.
And then I remember back to the time when as the hurricane developed I watched it from above. I saw it’s wild bands expanding, its dark center churning. From above I could see its boundaries. From above I noticed clusters of calm, bright sky swirling in the darkness.
In every storm since, I have acknowledged that I have a choice to turn away and even when I neglect that choice, I can find calm within the bands of chaos if I can just remember flying above it.
I love finding joy in unusual places.
In the raindrop that pokes my cheek and the wind that tosses my hair.
In the pattern of seeds that accidentally scatter on the floor.
In the slow looking that comes with the crowd of cars extending my commute.
In the exhale.
Here I am in my natural state of being. I feel no urgency, only a sense of calm and strength. I begin to know the essence of love.
Maybe finding joy is my super power.
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.”
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.
Instinctively, as I get caught in the tugging, dragging, pulling pressure of the rip tide, I tense, tighten, and fight for control. I can’t see it but I struggle violently against this force that seems bigger than me. Then, just when all seems hopeless, I let go. I allow the tide to carry me.
Suddenly now I am floating on its surface instead of kicking against its hold on me. Instead of feeling I have lost control, I trust the waters to carry me.
Just then the fighting stops. When I release the resistance, I gain my freedom.
The current carries me farther and farther out but I relax more and more into the rocking motion of the water and the excitement of going somewhere new.
And then the current changes. I gradually float closer to the shore. I arrive not in the same place but still me, having lost nothing by giving up that control.
I stand at the water’s edge now wondering what other hidden currents are calling me to let go of resistance in order to arrive at some place new.
What is it to be the mountain?
To stand strong, deeply rooted in the earth, proudly displaying your majesty and power.
Or, to bow humbly, providing the contrast to the sky and the scaffolding on which the sky balances, sprawls, and expands.
It is our role as teachers and leaders of today’s children to do both. To stand strong, firmly rooted in our values and beliefs, and at the same time submit to the greater knowing that resides in our children as we invite them to sprawl and expand into their own greatness, feeling only our love and trust as we remain firmly planted under them, fully supporting them exactly as they are.
Monday Mindfulness 