Open the box.
Release the wounded,
dejected, and painful parts.
Be not afraid
that they will multiply
or grow bigger
if you let them out,
for as soon as
you hold them
on a platform
to be seen,
they become
fragile,
small,
sweet,
needing nothing
more than the space to dissolve,
into the open air,
into the rolling sea
of being,
where they become
nourishment
for our greatest
dreams,
successes,
and gifts.
Across the barren soil of imagination are strewn seeds of desire.
They float through the air like translucent orbs, barely noticeable.
Gradually, they land, softly burrowing into the jagged and uneven ground before them.
They are compelled to nestle in,
trusting that as they are swallowed up by the soil somehow this is what they need to grow.
And so they make themselves small, quiet and still,
compelled to sprout in time,
willing to grow slowly with care.
They will face the drought of unworthiness,
resistance as they break through and change the barren land,
impatience as they require much tending before they produce any flowers or fruit,
and fear that they may not survive at all.
The patient gardener knows this.
With an eye on the potential magnificence, beauty, and need for these seeds to flourish,
nurturing instead of forcing.
Waiting joyfully,
the gardener balances hope with knowing,
confident that with proper care, attention, consistency, and flexibility,
in due time these seeds will fully grow into their potential
and from them will come more translucent orbs ready to contribute to the wildest, most beautiful, richest landscape imaginable.
There is not one giant awakening.
There is no detachment from pain.
There is not one moment of clarity that instantly falls upon the eyes or mind. There is not one instant one experiences freedom.
It happens bit by bit.
Awakening in the darkness,
in the suffering,
in the discomfort,
and in the dis-ease.
We begin to know it, like a dear and cherished friend.
There is a gradual unclogging, unfogging, and unraveling – that is the mystery of change.
That is the beauty of opening oneself to the potentiality of growing into something different.
Bit by bit, moment by moment, like pieces of a puzzle, thoughts and feeling, sensation and experiences, twist and turn and gradually find their way to fit together.
In that coming together, there is a sense of harmony and ease, perhaps even joy, that surfaces on the horizon,
not in overcoming the obstacles,
not in seeing the finished product,
but in feeling the creative process and drinking it all in.
Hold happy,
Tenderly like a baby bird,
Freely like a paintbrush,
Opening like the ocean.
Let in roll and splash.
Let it rock and sway.
Let it ripple and toss
With laughter and lightness.
But most of all
Let it be fully expressed
Without letting it go.
Let happy be
A natural extension
Of all that you do
Until all you are is happy.
As the moon waxes,
so does my confidence.
I boldly embrace the lessons of the past,
peeling away the darkness,
revealing with wisdom, grace, and humility,
the path of mistakes,
missteps, and injury,
owning them all as
valuable elements,
as every lesson
forms the substance of
what fills in
as the shadows step back
and the moon softly shines.
A bird flies overhead,
magnificent in its form and grace,
perfection in flight.
So present in its existence, movement, and being.
So seemingly joyful and at ease, even as it efforts to ride the currents of air, finding its own way.
A feather lies on the ground,
long, lush, and of complex substance and form,
once essential to the bird’s form and function.
Even the bird,
relying so heavily on its feathers for form, movement, and survival,
molts and looses critical parts of itself to maintain its dynamic essence and functional existence,
growing into its fullest capacity.
It does not wallow in the loss of its parts.
It revels in the new found strength and skill that comes from letting go
and reforming with integrity
and wholeness
over and over again.
Sometimes the light is too bright.
It is quick, and big, and so expansive.
Uncomfortable.
Unfamiliar.
Intimidating.
Too adventurous.
It feels great,
But a little unsafe.
Taking sips.
Feeling cautious.
Going slow.
Becoming curious.
Letting it tingle and flicker.
Allowing glimmers of ease.
Breathe by breath,
Becoming just a little lighter,
Peeling open with an achiness and stiffness,
Untangling and unfurling,
Nourished and relaxed by the light.
Beginning to awaken and transition.
Now softness and trust expand.
Permission granted to feel,
To release,
To become
Something else.
Freedom to be, anew.
Today I choose
curiosity,
clarity,
and confidence
to guide me,
releasing control,
as my purpose presents itself most fully
when I play freely
with my challenges,
not anticipating
or crafting
precisely what will pop up,
but knowing
it will be beautiful,
if I just let it be.
There is such magic in this world.
In the way my body carries me.
The movement of the wind as it caresses my cheek.
The coolness of the tears that release my tension and heaviness and fall as readily with joy as sorrow.
In the songs of the birds and insects busy with their work.
The smile of a loved one.
The deep knowing in the eyes of a child.
The way the earth holds onto me.
The playful dance of the ocean under the moon.
The squish of sand…mud…and grass between my toes.
The twinkle of the sun peeking through the forest leaves.
The wiggle and prance of unconditional love in a dog’s greeting.
The soul connection of a cat’s purr.
The goodness in the food I eat.
The nourishment and brain power in a sip of water.
The laughter of my children.
The echoes of love that I feel as unborn babies prepare to create more magic in this world.
The gifts are endless, seamless, and there for me even when I forget, become distracted, or look away.
The magic remains and returns again and again.
All I have to do is be still and it appears so clearly before and within me.
It’s really not magic at all.
What a beautiful thing to let love guide me and choose to see the good in the world today.
I follow my breath to the small, tender space of my heart.
This is where I find security and assurance.
This is where in the quiet and stillness I hear the sweet voice of my Self.
I feel the very center point of my existence.
From this center, I am clear as to what I am and what I am not.
From this center, I am kind, courageous, creative, curious,
and, oh, so, very smart and strong.
From this center, there is enough of me to hold both of us joyfully in our play as humans.
From this center, bright light radiates out and all around me full of unconditional love that doesn’t just give and fix and please.
No, this bright, magnificent light protects, defines, and honors my deepest self which in return brings forward my best self for all of us.
Centered in my Self I know more clearly who I am, and who I am not, washing away fear and doubt, posturing and grasping, and external pressures to conform or contract.
Centered in my Self I experience peace and confidence, ease and joy, harmony and health.
I long to be Self centered.
Monday Mindfulness 