Oh, to be in a state of body and mind in which I am
wholly connected to my inner radiance,
my vitality,
my strength,
my wholeness,
my joy,
in such an unconditional way that I interact with the world
with such grace, vibrancy, and connection
that I glow and flow
in all that I am.
Soft and focused,
Clear and free,
Confident and humble,
Knowing and speaking universal truth,
that I am
Powerfully chill.
Like begets like.
Peace leads to peace.
Kindness breeds kindness.
Suffering can lead to ease.
Mistakes become opportunities for growth.
Loss makes room for freedom.
Fear dissolves in faith.
Whatever I cultivate as my experience, I have the ultimate power to accept or shift the paradigm. Every experience serves me even when on the surface it may look grim. When I align an experience with the goal of knowing love, the love that is there always – not between people but that creates people – everything comes into balance, harmony prevails.
I no longer need to label my experiences as good or bad when I know that all experiences unfold before me so that I can explore what it is like to be my best self.
This is the process of trust.
I am experimenting more and more with loving myself these days…not being safe or shoring up relationships to develop a sense of connection but authentic appreciation for who and where I am. I am showing up in the knowing that I have my intuition (that I will call Self) as a guide and while connection with community is an important element of the human experience, connection with my Self is just as crucial.
As I am learning to love myself, I am maneuvering through the awkward balance between selfish and selfless to find the sustainable space between…where ego informs, intuition guides, and I hold onto no preconceptions of what that will look and feel like as I determine what best serves.
The chain that secured the familiar is rattling. Full of insecurities, yours and mine, it informs as I release its grip on my heart, rusty links untangling for all of us to see that freedom is possible.
As I am rattling the chain around my heart I ask that you consider letting your chain rattle too to make room for a new way of showing up for you and for me.
Either way, I will be free but it might be more fun to conspire in the unchaining together.
The Ackland Museum at the University of North Carolina Chapel Hill just hosted an exhibit entitled “Good Object/Bad Object,” inviting visitors to examine works of art that defy customary decorum and could be called “bad” because they are unpredictably designed yet they achieve an emotional depth and resonant beauty equal to “good” art.
Bad objects are opportunities to explore the edge of our comfort zone and try on new ways of seeing the world.
When the role is taken on responsibly, a bad object can be the catalyst of change and inspire different thinking.
Isn’t it interesting how quickly we humans need to label things as good or bad when often those characteristics are circumstantial. Nature doesn’t operate that way.
In humans, often when a bad object occurs without sufficient planning and understanding, the artist might become defensive or even resentful, denying accountability for their creation. If they have not been provided the encouragement and freedom to create outside of traditional constructs, the artist might try to hide the bad object, its potential emotional depth and beauty lost.
More often than not these days I find myself stronger, more confident, and more accomplished when I step into the role of “bad object.” It is not that I am not good at these times. It is that I willingly take responsibility for non-conforming, breaking a patterned interaction, and inciting a shift in perspective to achieve a familiar level of resonance in an unfamiliar way.
There is a role for each of us as good objects and bad objects. The contrast reminds us of our undeniable ability to contain emotional depth and resonant beauty in the most surprising ways.
There is something timeless in the rolling sea.
Individuality is lost as droplets leap into the air then instantly become consumed by the primal tugging, pulling, pushing, of the random rhythms.
There is something familiar in the curling, crashing surf. A sound and feeling calling me into its whisper, a deafening roar somehow barely audible.
It speaks of protecting me,
clearing my hurts and the world’s imperfections even before I know of them.
The spray catches my cheek.
Resonance of life force and love pulsing on the tide, pulsing through me.
I am consumed, transported back to the space and time when all I knew was the wooshing, whirling roar of silence in the womb.
My individuality is imperceivable.
I know precisely who I am…I am all.
It is with this magnificence that I crest the next wave dancing momentarily, singularly in the air and time and time again am happily reabsorbed into the flow,
into the moment of truth where I know I am the love and the life force that pulses with and through it all.
I am the resonance.
Cracks in the foundation.
Gotta dig deeper.
Move more dirt.
Secure the footings.
Rising fear like flooding waters.
Climbing higher
Full of frailty
Mounting doubt
Insecurity
in the instability
existence threatened
Could it all crumble?
Maybe it should.
Digging deep.
So many times I have wished for a window into the future, into the consequences of my choices.
Seeking certainty in my decisions, weighing my intuition against the feedback in my environment, just to be sure I am getting the best deal, walking the right path, doing the proper thing.
All along I have sought clarity to fuel my certainty. I thought that clarity would provide assurance as if my choices could ever be right or wrong.
The day I chose acceptance over assurance is the day I began to realize there are no good and bad choices, no right or wrong.
When I seek assurance in my choices, I am doubting my capacity to be flexible, creative, and resilient.
When I seek to accept my choices I engage compassion for myself and confidence that I will be ok no matter what choice I make.
To cross the stream, I search for stones that seem fixed despite the moving waters.
These stones suggest a level of safety in my crossing as they seen unmoved by the current,
stronger than I could be on my own.
Is the stream really too deep and forceful that I need the stones or
can I make the crossing?
I question my capacity to carry myself,
despite the quiet flash of reassurance in my belly suggesting I could navigate the waters just fine on my own.
I turn instead to the stones’ promise to hold me.
Without hesitation, I step wildly, quickly, with hope that they will be what they appear to be.
I put my trust completely in the stones
Only to find them unbalanced, slippery, unable to hold me, and
Depositing me completely and fully into the water.
My trust in the stones vanishes into the darkness.
I fight the current…the message…trust no one.
Suddenly the flash returns…trust…trust yourself.
It doesn’t have to be steady, clear, easy, or look a certain way.
I dive into the self-reliance that holds me, guides me, connects me with the edge of safety.
There in that moment I find trust on the inside that inspires more reliable trust on the outside.
What is regular? Normal? The way things are “supposed to be?”
It seems our nature is to crave stability and consistency, to look around us for the expected.
Can the expected really be a constant pattern of change, redefined based on circumstances?
In the fall every tree chooses a slightly different timing and color and pattern of change based on its relationship with the earth, the air, and its surroundings.
Even the evergreen loses some leaves, changes shape, and becomes something different year after year.
This shifting is considered beautiful, an often awe-inspiring evolution.
No tree taking the exact same steps, no one looking the same, yet all normal, regular, naturally changing.
This change allows the tree to thrive.
I must remember there is no right or wrong in change, simply an opportunity to be unafraid, vulnerable, and resilient.
Think about the possibility.
Sweet, ripe, bits of tartness, sometimes mushy, juicy, occasionally messy and on the verge of rotten.
Dripping with flavor and full of surprises.
A steady flow of tastes and textures that overlap and give way to each other.
It has taken me all these years to realize I am not just the piece of fruit.
I am the whole fruit salad, meant to be experienced and enjoyed as a whole.
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Monday Mindfulness 