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.
My mind says the work shows my value.
My emotions say the work provides purpose.
But my body say the work is tiring.
When out of balance, my body knows suffering, strain and illness.
It goes along with the plan for quite some time until systems become so taxed that it begins to breakdown, accelerating the natural limitlessness of this container.
And still I push on, the ego shouting louder about value and emotions crying for purpose.
Desperate for ease and repair the body collapses.
Foolishly, I believe that this is the only way.
Until I start to listen.
I hear my body’s call for balance now long before exhaustion.
I put down the baton and slow the doing.
I rest.
And I rest.
And I rest.
Sometimes it’s hard to turn off the voices of the doing, the voices of the wanting.
But it is in the space of rest where the tiny voice inside of me reminds me that greater value and purpose is born of nurturing.
Of nurturing this body, this mind, this heart.
Not just feeding, but honoring and loving, all of these aspects of me equally.
In this space, the desire to do and be something blends with the peace and stillness and then it becomes crystal clear that I need nothing more.
It is in the quiet space of rest where I am most powerful, most beautiful, and undeniably most complete.
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.
I am on the verge,
the verge of wondrous things or perhaps tremendous calamity.
It really makes no difference. The precipice is the same, the grander just the same.
There is beauty in it all,
Grace in it all,
Peace in it all,
Because all is love.
All is love.
Think with your heart. Have faith in your instincts. Place yourself in unfamiliar positions and you just might find you are more comfortable and happier than you ever imagined you could be.
I do not need high walls, thick armies, or heavy artillery to protect me.
I need just listen to the quiet, gentle voice within to know the path to victory.
My greatest strength is my inner knowing.
A rhythmic flow of thoughts, sensations and movement ripple along the surface.
There is a stillness in that rhythm, a fluid sense of presence, direction, clarity and completeness.
There is no pressing onward, no need for more. In the stillness, I am the me that I am to be.
So why do I seek waves and torrents when the stillness is the essence of my being?
Able to move great vessels
capable of such fury
so humbly bowing
at the edges of the earth
gently curling up
and cradling its shores
I am but a drop in this vast ocean
and yet without me
the ocean would not be complete.
May the littlest spirit of celebration inspire in you the greatest joy.
Monday Mindfulness 