Learning to step
without overstepping,
or stepping back.
Learning to care
without caring
about results.
Learning to feel
with feeling
instead of thought.
Learning to differentiate
between true joy
and fleeting excitement.
Cultivating peace
over emptiness
in the stillness.
Learning that love
is a state of being.
I’m not always going to get my way,
but I’m always going to get what’s right for me.
When I let go of forcing outcomes,
stop relying on others for my happiness,
and see obstacles not as a sign of my worth but of my courage and strength,
even what seems like a paralyzing blockage
can be an invitation to take a different path,
go a different way,
or sit right where I am for a moment
and reflect
on the beauty,
awe,
and opportunity
that exists right here,
right now,
just the way things are.
Much gratitude to Shari Irby for contributing this photo.
Bursting with excitement.
Tempted by fear.
To hold back.
To bring less of my
intelligence,
beauty,
creativity,
power
so as not to overwhelm them.
But they feel it anyway.
They want it.
And there is a good chance they won’t be able to handle it.
But that shouldn’t stop me
from being all that I am.
My allness
is ready
to bloom,
in all
of
its
magnificence.
Finding the balance between expressing and encroaching,
between stepping back and leaning in.
There are moments to blend
and times to expand.
Expressing one’s colors
requires softness and boldness,
the ability to complement and hold up another and still stand fully on your own.
Today, will it be accent or statement?
There are places to be both.
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 gift of sight is precious.
And the gift of sight quite limiting.
Energy bent,
refracted,
contorted,
to fit the confines of the mind.
Even with eyes closed,
the mind is seeing.
All of it fabricated.
If the image banks once overflowing were purged,
all unseen,
what would remain?
The seer.
The knower behind and beyond the images.
The opportunity to reimagine,
as in dreams,
as in daydreams,
as in reality,
all for the sake of being seen.
Curled up in a tiny ball,
breath pressing against muscles and bones heavy with the weight of not knowing.
The voice trying to find its footing,
wanting so desperately to be guided to its answers by the outside,
knowing it must dig deep and mine its own direction authentically from within.
In between each sigh,
a tear drops to the floor,
the only sign of motion
in this otherwise still
and down thrown body.
The simultaneous fullness
and emptiness
pulling at its core.
To be all
and
nothing.
Not afraid
to be afraid.
I fly out over the waves I call my home in search of nourishment.
In my seeking, I drift farther and farther from my nest.
Eventually, I am too tired to go on.
As I land, I find completely unfamiliar surroundings.
So unnerving, the experience of stepping out of the familiar, even when it’s for my own survival.
Do I retrace my steps and return to what was and where I came from, scavenging and settling for the scraps?
Do I settle into this new space and look ahead, embracing the unfamiliar and uncertain?
I can turn back or I can stand on these new shores.
I can forage and discover.
I pause and tuck under my wings where I find a consistent space of solace and reassurance,
to rest, to calm, and regain focus,
Here, I remember that to truly nourish myself,
I just may need to take flight and perch on new frontiers.
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The wind determines what I hear.
My eyes inform what I see.
The body interprets what I sense.
Thoughts form from what I hear, see, and feel as an experience.
Beliefs cling to these thoughts and this experience as truth,
setting emotions into action and reaction.
In reality, if there is such a thing, it is all just a choice, interpretation best when it comes not from my beliefs but in what I choose to believe.
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Across the barren soil of imagination are strewn seeds of desire.
They float through the air like translucent orbs, barely noticeable.
Gradually, they land, softly burrowing into the jagged and uneven ground before them.
They are compelled to nestle in,
trusting that as they are swallowed up by the soil somehow this is what they need to grow.
And so they make themselves small, quiet and still,
compelled to sprout in time,
willing to grow slowly with care.
They will face the drought of unworthiness,
resistance as they break through and change the barren land,
impatience as they require much tending before they produce any flowers or fruit,
and fear that they may not survive at all.
The patient gardener knows this.
With an eye on the potential magnificence, beauty, and need for these seeds to flourish,
nurturing instead of forcing.
Waiting joyfully,
the gardener balances hope with knowing,
confident that with proper care, attention, consistency, and flexibility,
in due time these seeds will fully grow into their potential
and from them will come more translucent orbs ready to contribute to the wildest, most beautiful, richest landscape imaginable.
Monday Mindfulness 