Some of the most beautiful things in the world are uneven, off kilter, imbalanced.
As hard as I try to always be in control, to have an answer for every unknown, and to maintain balance, there are those days that remind me that true harmony arises not in maintaining order but in remaining open to the form of the mismatched nature of my experiences with my expectations.
Sometimes imbalance is not only refreshing for the eyes, but needed to reset the soul.
The tightrope wire is taught and thin leaving not much room for play.
Inching along trepidatiously, the other side seems so far away.
Moved – or frozen – by memories and worry, I slide foot after foot on the barely visible line.
And then a pause to fill myself with breath returns me to my center.
Without any planning and responding only to the invitation of my breath, my body begins to relax.
My back leg lifts, my heart turns to the sky, and suddenly what I thought was only one path, becomes my playground.
There is still a bit of cautiousness – for I am in human form — but I give way to curiosity and before I know it there I am in a full arabesque on the wire.
Hanging on or flying free is the choice that is always there for me.
Thank you Jean McDonald for sharing this photo and your courage with all of us!
Mired in the fog of fatigue, loss, and self-doubt,
I am more fragile these days,
More prone to tears,
aware of tightness,
weakness,
imbalance.
Heavy and slower moving,
hyper-vigilant,
frenetic,
almost desperate to break free.
Oh, to relieve the longing,
the striving,
the insecurities.
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.
So much of this past year was spent retracted, curled inward, huddled up against myself. Darkness, distractions, and attempts to keep things all the same occupied much of my thinking. Circular thoughts woven into fears. Captive in this castle, spinning my time into the yarn of “what if.”
I imagined I was suffering, experiencing punishment of some sort. Separate from my routine, separate from others, separate from much of what I knew as familiar.
Now, a year later, I am being asked to do something with all the yarn that I have spun. I am being asked to go back to some form of the way things were, to put the yarn away. But I have rather come to enjoy the spinning and might just want to sit and spin some more.
Ah, but it could be time instead for me to learn to knit. There are endless possibilities of where I can go from here and what I can create. If I can only see that every moment is an opportunity to learn and create something new. How fortunate I have been to have this time to spin this yarn.
In this re-emergence as the gates slowly open, it is lovely to see what others have woven. Some have acquired new skills. Connected and inspired from within, they are already knitting. Some have rolled the yarn into balls to store away for another time. Some have just begun to make the yarn. In this experience, I have learned that I can resist the weaving, stumble and climb over all the yarn, or I can learn to knit.
I am happy to support you along the way.
I am always willing to remind you of your talents and your strengths.
I will continue to share in your surprise in discovering your gifts,
In realizing your power, and spreading your wings.
I will hold the door open as long as you need
And leave the window unlocked just in case.
I will scoop you up when you trip over the illusion of failure.
I will not let go until you feel your own steadiness.
I will lend words and gestures to guide you into your own being,
but I have never told you anything that you don’t already know.
I have never seen any part of you that you should withhold from your own sight.
I long for the moment when you free yourself from the tentacles of self-doubt.
And I delight in the prospect of you delighting in the greatness of you.
So focused on the work,
on striving to be something, someone…
The joy has slipped away.
But there is no need to run after it, seeking it.
You see, luv, the joy is always right here in your heart. Your heart just beats more loudly to the rhythm of some things, like walks in the park, playing in the woods, cooking delicious foods and wrapping up in snuggly blankets.
Include those rhythms in your daily routine and you will not need to seek joy for it will already be there dancing with you.
What’s yours is mine and mine is yours — at least that’s what we learn as children, right?
But sometimes it’s hard to share, to let someone have something we treasure…a favorite object, a delicious treat, our time, or our work product.
It sometimes makes me want to stop creating, contributing, doing and having!
But we know that renunciation — refraining, withdrawing, doing without — or non-action does not eliminate the fears and attachments. In fact it may even make them grow as in the unknown still lurks the possibility – even in doing nothing – that I might have something to share.
Instead, I think I will listen more, align myself with actions that fulfill me as I do them, and find such joys in the doing, creating, and connecting that I can unconditionally share anything of mine knowing that I am satisfying the tenants of pure love and that in giving to you I give to me.
There lies a place in me that has grown numb and is forgotten, a place that in the cool darkness has fallen asleep.
The every day routines of existence have turned off the spigot of kindness, creativity and possibility. Even many of those rituals established to keep me awake and alive are void of meaning, passion, and connectivity.
I must step out of the sleepiness, the lethargy, and the isolation. I can no longer await the awakening. I must create it.
In the darkness I will dance until the vast potential and possibility within me are moved and my heart connected to the fullness, freedom, and gift of my essential self.
In the daylight hours and through the night, I will stay alert to those parts of my life that have fallen asleep, that are passing me by…and I will sing and dance and engage in such revelry and play that no part can remain unmoved, I cannot escape the awakening.
There I will find my essential self, my capacity to joyfully meet my needs as well as yours, and celebrate the wonder of life.
Special thanks to Greg Young of RGY Photography for the beautiful photo accompanying this post. See more at http://www.rgyphotography.com or on Instagram @randygyyoung.
Why is it when something good happens, I assume I am dreaming? Good fortune couldn’t possibly come to me just because it is a way of living.
Our dreams allow us to live out endless possibilities, to experience great joys and work through sufferings. Yet it is more often the sufferings that we bring with us into the waking world. It is the sufferings we expect to find in the daylight hours.
As we settle into the darkest time of the year, let us awaken in this darkness to the fact that we are intended to live in joy and peace, and to thrive in the living more than in our dreams.
It is the suffering that is the illusion, not the success. It is the discomfort that we can relinquish to the dream state.
In the darkness, I awaken to know that this being is intended to be miraculous, exuberant, joyful and abundantly filled with ease.
It is time to give ourselves permission to celebrate our successes and well-being, fully awake and aware in our right to thrive.
Both chairs are always available to you. One sits above and allows you to sprinkle your wisdom confidently, but also requires you to hold a caring space, to lift me up. The other sits at the feet of the first, providing a place to listen, learn and receive, ignighted by curiosity and wonder.
Which seat do you choose? Can you find a way to sit under, to humbly receive and accept knowledge and perspective from others? Can you sit above without looking down and casting a shadow?
Is there a way you can fit in either seat depending not on what you desire but on what I need?
Please come sit with me for a spell.
Monday Mindfulness 