Hold happy,
Tenderly like a baby bird,
Freely like a paintbrush,
Opening like the ocean.
Let in roll and splash.
Let it rock and sway.
Let it ripple and toss
With laughter and lightness.
But most of all
Let it be fully expressed
Without letting it go.
Let happy be
A natural extension
Of all that you do
Until all you are is happy.
Always pointing true north,
inner guidance says
trust your instincts.
Remember how your intuition has served you.
What makes you feel alive? Where can you trust inner guidance more?
What feels right?
The internal compass can carve a path to prosperity.
Prosperity shows not just in material wealth, but in spiritual growth, the love you share, the peace you cultivate, the joy you spread.
Forgive yourself along the path and there will be no need to forgive others as they will fall into grace.
Listen to the whispers of your soul and watch as things fall into place more gracefully than ever envisioned.
Witnessing
the immediate state of
the breath,
the thoughts,
the body.
Melting
conditionality,
quality,
quantity,
purpose,
direction.
Recognizing
perceptions of
loss
challenge,
failure,
imperfection,
and resistance
as a readiness
to be
seen,
felt,
and expressed
otherwise.
The next moment,
a transition,
a transformation.
Loving
and cherishing
what shows up
rather than what comes next.
I came into this world knowing only me.
Somewhere along the way,
As I grew to know there were others,
I let them define who I came to be.
I thought I should follow.
And as a child, like a duckling, I did.
For that was my only sure source of food, shelter, survival.
But along the way, I noticed
I could forage, swim, and tuck my beak into my own wings
in a way unique to me.
It didn’t mean the others were wrong…
I just didn’t seem to be an exact fit to how they did these things.
I wrestled with knowing that I could make it on my own.
I convinced myself that I still needed to follow and be how and what they dictated.
And then one day, I gave it a small try.
I wandered a little farther away.
I showed up last to the waters edge.
I sat a bit longer in the sun than the rest.
There I found ease and a new sense of knowing.
The aloneness still haunts me from time to time as I am now no longer part of that brood.
And yes swimming on my own takes a new kind of effort.
But I’ve noticed
The others haven’t gone away.
Just their influence over my choices has.
Now we search for food near each other but don’t have to fight for the same piece.
We gather closer together when we need warmth and give space as needed.
We swim in the same waters but no longer in each other’s wake.
It’s a new way of existing,
This coming back to knowing me,
And it seems to be just the way it is supposed to be.
Sometimes the light is too bright.
It is quick, and big, and so expansive.
Uncomfortable.
Unfamiliar.
Intimidating.
Too adventurous.
It feels great,
But a little unsafe.
Taking sips.
Feeling cautious.
Going slow.
Becoming curious.
Letting it tingle and flicker.
Allowing glimmers of ease.
Breathe by breath,
Becoming just a little lighter,
Peeling open with an achiness and stiffness,
Untangling and unfurling,
Nourished and relaxed by the light.
Beginning to awaken and transition.
Now softness and trust expand.
Permission granted to feel,
To release,
To become
Something else.
Freedom to be, anew.
You are safe and loved.
I support you.
I will protect you.
It’s okay to feel sad, scared, or anxious.
It’s okay to say no.
I love you the way you are.
You are kind, smart, and funny.
You are important.
I am happy you are here.
An enthusiastic and naïve seagull swoops down on a tiny fish sparkling near the surface of the softly rippling waves.
It eagerly dives in and grasps the silvery treasure.
A simple maneuver performed hundreds of times in the past turns immediately to struggle as a hook and clear line at the end of a poll entangle the unsuspecting.
Soon the sky fills as the silent call for help produces a furry of circling, screeching, and diving.
All are now hovering, pensively and purposefully.
A shirt comes off to cover the bird as nimble hands work to untangle the lines.
The air is filled with insecurity and uncertainty.
A cloud of judgment forms.
It is the bird’s fault.
It is the fisherman’s fault.
They are saving the bird.
They are hurting the bird.
All is a swirl in the energetic exchange of emotions and actions.
Soon there is a release, a cutting free, a letting go.
And none are left untarnished.
There is not an immediate sense of relief as one might expect.
Heads hang heavy, perhaps even filled with shame and remorse.
The drenched shirt, the cut line, the disheveled demeanor of all reminds us that even when the urgent rescue and the struggle dissolve,
There is a residual current of pain that must be allowed to dissipate and transform.
Even in the shortest-lived trauma, there must be a space following for grief, loss, and healing.
No participant in this event is untouched.
Only those who feel fully, surrender to the flood of intense sensations, and tend the wounds of the entanglement will be fully free.
A period of rest and repair is needed for all.
Shaking,
pruning,
pacing,
sounding,
slowing down,
and reconnecting
to the earth,
the water,
and the air,
each participant is offered a blanket of grace, compassion, and love to wrap around them in order for the judgment, fear, shame, and pain to subside.
In due time, as they forgive one another, they once more wander the edge of the sea, seeking nourishment, seeing differently, and feeling a part of something greater,
a net of seemingly invisible lines meant to connect and secure us, and sometimes harrowingly entangling,
always informing and forming
who we are,
where we go,
and how we get there.
I came into this world far from perfect.
I came into this world, carrying a satchel of burdens, broken pieces, and suffering.
I came into this world to learn that whatever imperfections,
whatever brokenness,
whatever missing parts,
I am no less complete.
I am no less whole.
I am no less beautiful.
I am no less worthy.
I am no less valuable.
In fact, I am more striking,
more exceptional,
more capable,
more intriguing,
and more powerful,
as I embrace the contrast.
Unpacking the contents of the satchel,
I bravely weave together all the pieces with a thread of light and love that enjoys a lack of symmetry,
dances in the gaps,
Expands to fill the holes,
and revels in the spaces.
It is in the imperfections, the scars of journeys past, and the history that we carry,
That we remember the inner layers and the threads of who we truly are.
Within this great time of change, unsettledness, and loss, comes an urge for clarity, knowing, and security.
It becomes more and more elusive with grander and grander efforts to find a connection, a grounding, a holding on place.
Clawing furiously at the earth, desperate for a sense of being held, folding so close to its surface, the breath and body become lost, unable to find the satisfaction of security.
Perhaps the rooting down into connection is not what is needed.
Rather, the courage to rise up to it,
To release the bonds and tethers that built an illusion of having a home.
To become the ether,
The soft chord that aligns with the core of our being,
That has no home because it is our home,
That needs no latching on as its connection is found in the releasing, trusting, and cutting of cords.
The ether holds timeless wisdom in quietude,
A space where the walls of understanding, reason, and storytelling are replaced with wide expanses of clarity, simplicity, ease, and knowing.
Ethereal connections need no validation or roots but remind us of unity in the unknown.
It is time not to hunker down into the ordinary, the familiar, and the history, but to embark on a journey of discovery, exploration, and love within,
A greater belonging,
A time to take flight.
There in the ether exists
An absence of need,
A discovery of true essence,
And the freedom to truly be home.
Pain provides an opportunity to turn towards lessons and lessening or to adopt as a wounded state as a part of identity.
For sure, the wave of wound on the heels of pain can feel logical and essential. It may perhaps be needed in order to make a choice. The wound from pain can be like a riptide that is easy to get caught in…that can provide great struggle and even the potential to drown.
However, to ride that current, perhaps even begin to understand it’s make up and direction and feel more fully into it just briefly, produces the wisdom to release the struggle and be propelled to its edges by its own force.
Without resistance, the riptide has nothing to hold onto and pushes away what it cannot drag down.
In due time, the churning and swirling when met with curiosity, tenderness, and patience has the capacity to deliver an object once more to calm and safe waters.
It is in returning to this calm space where wisdom is found…the pain lessened and the wound converted to a lesson.
While woundnedness perpetuates a perceived lack of safety imposed externally, wisdom reinforces the notion that safety is created in the choice to experience but not drown in the wound.
While ideally the sea of life hopes to offer smooth, calm, clear waters, it also aspires to shape future landscapes and to never remain the same, retaining unintentially in its purpose the potential for pain.
And in this way, there lie endless opportunities to ride or resist, to learn or succumb.
Monday Mindfulness 