Of varying form and purpose, we all arrive in a beautiful and powerful way – the key is to remain here not with force but with formidable grace.
The ocean rolls in and out, finding a rhythm in the irregular beat of its waves on the shore, a consistency in the inconsistency.
It asks that I bend more, stay more still, listen more closely, find my entry, consider a way to dive in while still feeling my feet.
Restless…rejecting…beautiful…inciting…matching breath to motion.
Sometimes steady and full, sometimes roaring in…sometimes barely there.
Here together, a push and pull of synchrony.
Even in the struggle you connect me with my breath.
You awaken my senses.
You remind me what it means to exist and give me permission to settle into my unsettledness.
I breathe in, filling with the life force that moves me into every adventure, like the climbing of a roller coaster to the peak of its highest rail.
I teeter at the top, momentarily suspended in the gap of the breath the frozen space of fear.
And then I soften, surrender, and remember I am bigger than the gap. When I become bigger in the space of fear, fear becomes a place of play.
I can wade, jump, dive, trickle or race through the gap, inviting the breath to meet me at the other side. As I move more fully into each turn, each bend and dip in the rail, I become bigger and bigger with every breath.
In the bigness, I am fluid and free. There, in that space, I cannot help but smile in the excitement I find in being me…in breathing excitement into fear.
Every day, I tenderly pluck and sort the unwanted guests between the treasured plants in the garden of this life of mine. I carefully reach between the stalks and flowers I choose to keep and arrange them all just so.
And, even with the most careful attention, I never leave my garden without scrapes, brush marks and bruises.
Yes, some of the most treasured plants in my garden have thorns. I move with particular sensitivity around them lest they snag my flesh. And somehow even as they cut me, I am still able to see their beauty and feel their special worth. They reach out and brush against me as if they just want to touch, to say “isn’t this all so grand that we are here?!”
It is at that moment when I am wounded but still capable of loving – even those plants with thorns – that I recognize that this coexistence is the essence of thriving.
There are thinks I follow through on and thinks that follow me.
There are thinks that motivate and thinks that discourage.
There are thinks that build me up and thinks that crumble me to the ground.
There are thinks I think of doing and thinks that do on their own.
There are thinks I engage and thinks I avoid.
There are thinks I want to have and thinks that seem to taunt me.
There are thinks I hope to have and thinks that linger long past their usefulness.
It seems my thinks are here to stay.
Thankfully, I know they are not all that is me…they are just my thinks…just resting in a small crevasse of my being…
…and it is okay to let some get away.
Whatever you do, do it with the essence of ease.
It doesn’t mean stop what you are doing. It means stay connected to your source, as if you are carrying your home with you, so you are not impatiently trying to get somewhere.
Slow down from the inside, even if the outside is wanting or needing to move swiftly. You can move swiftly, full of purpose and zeal, but on the inside remain steady, slow moving.
When I slow down on the inside, I find I don’t need to push so hard on the outside because I know I’m already where I should be.
So proud of you for letting those tears go, no longer clinging to the emotions to which they had attached themselves.
When you cry, I do not see sadness. I see freedom. I feel the release of beliefs and emotions that are out of balance with your natural state of being.
When you cry, I see you coming home to the love and peace within you and coming into a greater knowing of who you really are.
Enjoy the cry my friend. Let the river of love crest it’s banks and pour out of you so that you can once more rest along its edge or swim in its soft currents as it washes away the imbalances, injustices, inequities, and imperfections that may feel as if they are confining you.
Let love flow freely on every tear. Fall into the comfort and release of crying.
Waiting for my thoughts to quiet.
With each breath, feigning an attempt to soften the tension in my muscles.
Always on high alert, my body is the ever faithful soldier standing at attention, ready to advance, attack, or defend.
My thoughts and feeling providing constant counsel, conducting their business at all hours of the day and night as if essential personnel.
It is a strange request I make that all the components that serve me in my daily busy-ness are called upon now to rest.
They are troubled by this pause as it could imply they may no longer be needed. They resist – the body…the mind…the emotions that want to protect and define me.
And yet, a strange and delightful spaciousness coats my experience when I am willing to just sit down and breathe.
It frees them all to not disappear but to serve me better. They become my friends, sipping tea on the deck, holding hands and dancing in the absence of mission and doing.
Oh, the joy of knowing my thoughts, my feelings, my body in the absence of need.
We rest here for a bit together, finding a freshness in how we coexist…
…and then we agree to do this much more often.
Rain pounds down on the door of the earth.
The soil parts, making way for movement.
Creatures on the move rise to the surface.
Suddenly the water rushes in carrying us to unfamiliar spaces.
Momentarily stunned with uncertainty this new uncomfortable vantage point becomes home.
Gradually settling into a new way of being and heading in a new direction provided solely by the force of another.
Sensing the way, knowing now a different path.
Facing challenges and significant dangers, but moving forward just the same… determined to make good on this shift.
With the pouring rain comes fresh possibilities to establish new pattens, make new discoveries, test adaptability, and make good in the face of adversity.
Tolerance is not ignorance.
Just because I tolerate your actions does not mean I condone them.
It does not mean they do not wound me, make me bristle or rattle my confidence in my own internal guidance systems.
Tolerance simply means that I am giving you room to be you – to learn and teach us both through your actions – to allow us to explore anger and fear, but also know patience, compassion, and forgiveness.
Tolerance is grace flexing its muscles. Tolerance is the power of my will to know my truth and allow you to explore yours.