The sun typically illuminates the moon.
The moon relying on the sun to be seen.
On occasion they come into complete opposition.
The earth interferes with the sun’s capacity to light the moon.
For a moment there appears to be total darkness.
And then the moon emerges more strikingly in the sky than ever before, full of deep, rich color.
The moon becomes something new,
The dark more luminous,
The sun still shining.
Adversity the catalyst,
Throughout the darkness.
The deadline was met.
The difficulty has passed.
The challenge is complete.
Is there a way to just feel rest instead of collapsing into this state of completion?
Must dread and arduousness accompany the work?
Why have I created this belief that I need struggle in order to be worthy of the prize of rest?
Could I move instead from a place of ease in such a way that the work is joyful, the learning graceful?
Could challenge instead be reframed as delightful growth?
Yes, if I choose to make it that way.
Frequently I stumble over my desire to align myself with someone else, to feel liked, to fit in.
Then, I realize a little piece of me is already aligned with everyone else and that is what allows me to stand out.
When you are suffering, my smile does not mean I don’t care. It may be that I am just opening my heart more in a time when yours may feel closed off.
I am holding a space of warmth and hope in which you can feel sad but not alone.
Allow my smile to soften your pain and be not a blinding light but a guiding light.
Feeling and noticing love and joy in others does not negate the loss. It just reminds us of our capacity to heal and honor loss without getting lost in it ourselves.
For each of us there is a layer that surrounds and holds our thoughts and feelings, that ties physical material existence to a sense of being. Built into the walls of that container are our beliefs, values, and desires, ever connected and blending with the feelings of others. These characteristics are what give the container strength but can also become places of vulnerability, weakness, and destruction. Stress fractures can begin to appear over time in the container where the values, beliefs, and habits are challenged, become inflexible and brittle.
Signs of wear or weakness are not markers of fault in the container, but a means for assessing whether repair or replacement could be useful. It may be the values and beliefs woven into that section are ready for reconditioning.
When I visualize the materials, tools, and mending — stitching the fabric, soldering the metal, molding the clay – and give myself permission to reshape the container, perhaps even layering different media, I can begin to fill and empty with experiences in a way that projects and protects the me I have come to be.
Why is it that I am so regularly seduced by over work at the sacrifice of self care and compassion?
Caught in the net of a never ending to-do list that lures me away from rest and towards the mirage of success.
In the end, it is not the amount of work I get done but my capacity to enjoy the work I do and that is only possible with sufficient compassion and care.
Every morning through my window I watch the airplanes carve a path through the sky, a seemingly straight line built of swirling vortices.
The pilots consider themselves on a steadfast course, honed to the coordinates entered.
But as I watch the swath cover the sky, I see that one path dissipates into a thousand threads of opportunity to go in a different direction.
What one perceives as the path another sees as the starting point. A straight line swirls and morphs into a cloud.
There is nothing wrong with the trajectory on which I ride, but I find it quite fun to imagine where else I might go.
A tear carves a cool path along my skin. My heart pounds furiously against the constricted edges of my body. Focused on my imperfections, I am frozen.
Motionless, my attention is suddenly diverted to a deep and robust murmur in the sky. I slowly turn and open my eyes to find a hummingbird still yet racing in the sky before me.
Wings fluttering so quickly I cannot see them, heart beating 500 times the speed of mine, there it hovers, searching just like me for nourishment in its motionless.
It’s lightness as much a reality as my heaviness.
Joy and freedom projecting from its racing heart and pounding wings.
My racing heart begins to feel less burdened.
My constricted body is now inspired to move.
The illusion I’ve created of my suffering fades.
I find nourishment in transforming my experiences into joy and lightness, choosing the qualities of a hummingbird over failure.
When the energy in a situation gets big do you get bigger?
When the energy gets big, do you get littler?
Neither is right or wrong, they just produce different effects.
Where I match the energy carefully and skillfully in its bigness, riding the inhale to its peak, I can take that energy by the hand and usher it to a more stable space.
When I remain small in the big energy I model a means to come back to center, a way to arrive home on the wave of the exhale.
So I can choose whether to breathe in and ride up or breathe out and come back. Where I get into trouble is if I only head one way and forget that there is an inhale and an exhale in every encounter and that big and little are compliments as much as contrasts.
“Prepare your doors for departure and cross check, please” said the pilot before departing the gate.
How often in our daily lives do we launch without proper preparation?
The brief pause to transition from one moment to the other – to conduct a cross check and prepare for what comes next – provides clarity, confidence, and confirmation that I am ready to move forward.
This cross check also eliminates potential danger and reduces the likelihood of unfortunate outcomes.
On the rhythm of every breath lies the opportunity to prepare for departure, to make wiser choices, and be ready for what lies ahead.
And, with that next exhale, looking keenly and calmly ahead, I softly whisper, “Cross check complete.”
Monday Mindfulness 