When I am balanced mind and body, I am just ripe. There is no bitterness, no tough skin to cut through. I am neither too soft and falling apart.
Picked too soon, I am raw, needy, unready. Left to ripen too long and I begin to sour and decay.
Perfectly cultivated and connected to my core, I am a source of sustenance, giving flavor and nourishment without expecting anything in return.
Delicious, sweet and juicy, is what you get when I give myself ample time on the vine.
At my core, there is a fiery hot center, a burning ember that stokes my will, drives to protect me, and provides great strength.
When guided by my intuition that fire burns bright as the sun in the distance, like a gentle warrior claiming victory through kindness and compassion.
When led by ego, it becomes blinding and oppressive, randomly erupting in all directions.
That is when I call upon the moon.
The moon with its still darkness brings calm, restores balance. Gathering and redirecting the excessive sun energy, the moon cools the fire to a soft, gentle glow once more.
The mist of ego retreats and the inner wisdom once more shines humbly.
The moon provides just the right light for me to see my way.
Inside, bright and shining. Outside soft and calm.
Harnessing the strength of the sun and the peace of the moon, I am whole once more.
I no longer have weekdays and weekends. I simply have days.
I no longer have good days or bad days. I simply have days.
Some days feel heavier and on those days I go slow.
Some days feel lighter and on those days I shine a bit brighter.
Whether heavy or light, I live fully and freely in each day.
It feels better to live without labels.
Instinctively, as I get caught in the tugging, dragging, pulling pressure of the rip tide, I tense, tighten, and fight for control. I can’t see it but I struggle violently against this force that seems bigger than me. Then, just when all seems hopeless, I let go. I allow the tide to carry me.
Suddenly now I am floating on its surface instead of kicking against its hold on me. Instead of feeling I have lost control, I trust the waters to carry me.
Just then the fighting stops. When I release the resistance, I gain my freedom.
The current carries me farther and farther out but I relax more and more into the rocking motion of the water and the excitement of going somewhere new.
And then the current changes. I gradually float closer to the shore. I arrive not in the same place but still me, having lost nothing by giving up that control.
I stand at the water’s edge now wondering what other hidden currents are calling me to let go of resistance in order to arrive at some place new.
What is it to be the mountain?
To stand strong, deeply rooted in the earth, proudly displaying your majesty and power.
Or, to bow humbly, providing the contrast to the sky and the scaffolding on which the sky balances, sprawls, and expands.
It is our role as teachers and leaders of today’s children to do both. To stand strong, firmly rooted in our values and beliefs, and at the same time submit to the greater knowing that resides in our children as we invite them to sprawl and expand into their own greatness, feeling only our love and trust as we remain firmly planted under them, fully supporting them exactly as they are.
There are those who walk within the crosswalk and those who create their own lines. Endless ways to reach your destination. Different challenges in each one. But, when you walk confidently, fully present and in tune with your vibration, there is an unquestionable spring in your step, a natural joy in knowing that you are moving forwards in your own way.
Stepping off the curb is often the toughest part.
Connect with your inner essence and conduct yourself in alignment with what is best for you – not what is best materially or socially, not what is best to correct the past or to position you for the future, not what you are craving or what you believe you need, but knowing your place and greater purpose.
Stand up fully for yourself and confidently guide your experience with grace.
This is what it means to be present.
If there is ever a time when I feel lost, overwhelmed or confused by the voices of mind and emotions, I need only to take a deep breath. Like a giant bright-colored arrow, my breath points me right back to the space of my heart. Each inhale reminds me of the limitlessness of my self knowing. With each exhale I find the power to trust the truth in my heart, to fearlessly and squarely face whatever lies before me, inside or out. There I find true courage.
There is an artistry to the life we live. The patterns and colors that emerge as a result of our presence here in this space are unique. No two of us the same, yet all of us connected, we weave together the tapestry of this existence. The fabric of each moment carries the design of what we choose to contribute and what we choose to leave behind — spaces forever colored by our presence…long after we have left the room.
Snowflakes are gently falling, wet, heavy, cold. The air is still. Yet, as if aligned with a predetermined path down, they fall, curling and dancing on invisible threads. How beautifully and carefully they weave the fabric of the newly formed blanket of white.
The landscape now changes. Familiar objects and colors fade as I grasp for their memories. Each flake masking more and more of what I know, as more of my roots and my foundation fade.
They blur my vision as they spin and race to weave the blanket. They only create the illusion that what I know is no more.
For when I pause to breathe, I see. These dancing flakes inspire a new kind of looking, as if through a clouded window that needs to be cleared. My breath the cloth that wipes the window clean.
Faith reminds me that I know where I am, who I am, even as all I know disappears under the blanket.
And then, almost as quickly as the storm started, the flurry ends. Almost as quickly as they appeared the flakes melt away.
With this new moment, the sun shines. With this new moment, rays of light now dance on the same threads that wove the blanket.
Once more I am reunited with the familiar. Finding my roots and the landscape just as I had left it – once buried, never lost.
Monday Mindfulness 