When you are suffering, my smile does not mean I don’t care. It may be that I am just opening my heart more in a time when yours may feel closed off.
I am holding a space of warmth and hope in which you can feel sad but not alone.
Allow my smile to soften your pain and be not a blinding light but a guiding light.
Feeling and noticing love and joy in others does not negate the loss. It just reminds us of our capacity to heal and honor loss without getting lost in it ourselves.
For each of us there is a layer that surrounds and holds our thoughts and feelings, that ties physical material existence to a sense of being. Built into the walls of that container are our beliefs, values, and desires, ever connected and blending with the feelings of others. These characteristics are what give the container strength but can also become places of vulnerability, weakness, and destruction. Stress fractures can begin to appear over time in the container where the values, beliefs, and habits are challenged, become inflexible and brittle.
Signs of wear or weakness are not markers of fault in the container, but a means for assessing whether repair or replacement could be useful. It may be the values and beliefs woven into that section are ready for reconditioning.
When I visualize the materials, tools, and mending — stitching the fabric, soldering the metal, molding the clay – and give myself permission to reshape the container, perhaps even layering different media, I can begin to fill and empty with experiences in a way that projects and protects the me I have come to be.
I stand at the edge of what appears to be a barren and desolate canyon, seemingly incapable of supporting my growth.
Between the jagged and piercing crevasses, I reach down and discover I don’t need as much as I thought to thrive – simple and small gifts of connection are enough to sustain me. Humility, patience, and kindness soften the edges of the canyon like a gentle rain just enough to allow me to take hold and flourish.
Here I learn of my own fortitude and resilience. Here I may appear to stand out but it’s really just where I belong.
I stand at the edge of what appears to be a barren and desolate canyon, seemingly incapable of supporting my growth.
Between the jagged and piercing crevasses, I reach down and discover I don’t need as much as I thought to thrive – simple and small gifts of connection are enough to sustain me. Humility, patience, and kindness soften the edges of the canyon like a gentle rain just enough to allow me to take hold and flourish.
Here I learn of my own fortitude and resilience. Here I may appear to stand out but it’s really just where I belong.
Every morning through my window I watch the airplanes carve a path through the sky, a seemingly straight line built of swirling vortices.
The pilots consider themselves on a steadfast course, honed to the coordinates entered.
But as I watch the swath cover the sky, I see that one path dissipates into a thousand threads of opportunity to go in a different direction.
What one perceives as the path another sees as the starting point. A straight line swirls and morphs into a cloud.
There is nothing wrong with the trajectory on which I ride, but I find it quite fun to imagine where else I might go.
A tear carves a cool path along my skin. My heart pounds furiously against the constricted edges of my body. Focused on my imperfections, I am frozen.
Motionless, my attention is suddenly diverted to a deep and robust murmur in the sky. I slowly turn and open my eyes to find a hummingbird still yet racing in the sky before me.
Wings fluttering so quickly I cannot see them, heart beating 500 times the speed of mine, there it hovers, searching just like me for nourishment in its motionless.
It’s lightness as much a reality as my heaviness.
Joy and freedom projecting from its racing heart and pounding wings.
My racing heart begins to feel less burdened.
My constricted body is now inspired to move.
The illusion I’ve created of my suffering fades.
I find nourishment in transforming my experiences into joy and lightness, choosing the qualities of a hummingbird over failure.
Settling into my breath, I find the spot where the inhale meets the exhale – the moment of attachment of my body to the breath, the point of connection to my inner knowing.
At that point, I find stillness. Projecting from that stillness is a clear and receptive space of awareness.
From that awareness, I follow the path of least effort to discover my intention – the sensation, word or object that reflects my true state of being. In that intention I find reassurance, guidance, and confirmation in my decision making.
I sit for a moment longer in the stillness, awareness and intention until I can let go of all discomfort. Full of ease and comfort, my sails fill confidently with my inner knowing, fulfilling my purpose and potential.
Finding stillness, awareness, intention, and letting go, I sail away home.
Together we navigate the waves and sands of life,
Asking simple questions like “what shall we eat today?”
Or “do you think it will rain?”
We sometimes gather with the flock to catch up and share in our collective presence and strength.
There is always the hierarchy to navigate and the stories of others that come into play – no less delightful but requiring a different form of focus and care nonetheless.
But when we walk alone at the waters edge in the silence,
knowing each other’s thoughts,
sensing the world together,
equal in the space we occupy,
that is when I feel at my best
and know my Self the most.
When I feel angry, my world appears abrasive and confrontational.
When I am confused, all is cold and insensitive.
The more beautiful my world feels, the more gentle and receptive it seems.
As I play in this world with wonder, curiosity, and awe, the world invites me to laugh and be free.
When I feel wrapped in care and comfort, I find the world worthy of love.
My world is a reflection of my beliefs, a reflection of what I see on the inside.
My world gives me just what I see.
This is what is real, as long as this is the story I want to see.
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.
Monday Mindfulness 