Sweet Reminders

I am surprised at who I’m waking up with.  Life is morphing this woman-girl-mystery and she is utterly unknowable.   I witness my usual tendency to grab onto an insight and weave a story around it, beginning to soften into a tender stillness and ease.

I remember a moment, over a decade ago, standing face-to-face; heart-to-heart, with a dear beloved, David Cates.   Attempting to transmit what I was experiencing in that season of my life, I told him “I feel like all of my life is de-constructing. I’m curious and excited to see what gets re- constructed.”  From the presence in his eyes I knew he lived in the response he gave me  …. “Maybe nothing has to get re-constructed.”  

Six simple words changed my world. (and I’m not even certain those were his exact words. Lol)

I woke-up with David’s words this morning and they moved me with a wisdom deepened by the decade between then and now.  

The grub doesn’t have a choice. Her deconstruction happens. Her own immune system resists the changing; yet, by grace, it is the resistance itself that initiates her transformation. And it happens. She couldn’t control it. She couldn’t anticipate what was next. She couldn’t understand it. 

And, one day, in some unknowable perfect timing, she emerged and fluttered by.  

She wasn’t a story, a re-construction or an understanding.  She was alive, alive, alive.    

And it could not have been any different.

With transformative love,
Sharon

I realize how incredibly fortunate I am right now. I’ve been given sanctuary on lovely Ecuadorian land dedicated to ceremony, healing and awakening.

Each morning I come to the maloca (ceremonial lodge) to practice.

I breathe here. I shake here. I dance here. I sit here. I pray here. I chant here. I Be here.

A few days after I arrived to this place, I felt my ripe need to bring grief here, too. Raw, vulnerable, wild, true.

In the maloca I step into sacred space and unleash the grief that arises in this unknown.

I invite my lungs, the organ of grief, to have their voice.

I invite grief, herself, to break me open and un-defend my heart.

I invite my practice to clear the trauma of these times from my body-temple.

I pray that the grief that moves through me also serve those who aren’t able to be present to their own grief.

I pray that grief will open me to deeper compassion. And that maybe, by grace, it would even open me to gratitude.

I open my arms wide, turn my face to the heavens, and like an animal howling at the moon, I unleash my wild, deep, belly-heart sounds.

I wail the piercing fears I have for my family and friends and for the heartache of being miles and borders away from my beloved husband.

I wail for the immense fear, sorrow and overwhelm Health Care Heroes and their families are living in.

I wail the heartbreak and anguish felt when a loved one dies with no one there to hold their hand or witness their last breath.

I wail for the ones who are frozen in terror and for the ones who don’t have the resources or support to navigate the challenges of this time.

I wail in sorrow for the most vulnerable of us: impoverished, homeless, refugees are just part of a way-too-long list.

I wail into the separation and divisiveness that we’ve created in our global family.

I wail my sorrow at how we humans have been a virus on this precious planet. I wail at how I have lived as a virus on this precious planet.

I wail for the unspoken and for the unknowable. I wail for that which is too deep for words.

I wail for hope. I wail to make room for new possibilities. I wail because I am alive. I wail for my freedom. I wail for love.

My tears are cleansing. My sounds are birth sounds. Connecting with the heart of grief opens me. And I know that I am, indeed, living in Holy days.

With love to you,
Sharon

Hello Precious One,

Touch. It’s a vital and primal need of ours.  Touch. It stimulates our immune system. It releases the hormone oxytocin which creates a sense of connection with others and makes us feel yummy. It reduces stress and anxiety.  It does lots of other cool things, too.

Now we’re in serious no-touch time.  Even cuddling with intimate family members might not be prudent for you right now.

So, I’ve turned into my own best toucher.

Last night I wrapped myself up in my arms. With the tenderness that I’d touch a beloved child who was facing a terror, I soothed this animal part of myself that has found herself in unfamiliar territory.  I met her with slow, present, conscious touch, imbued with love.  I gently stroked my entire body (well, except those places on my back that I can’t reach) with gentle, intimate, conscious, touch.

We’re all in unfamiliar territory.  The animal of our being is on high-alert; vigilant, protective, amped up with hormones of fear.   Our animal-self needs to be calmed down, welcomed and comforted.

Curl up to this innocent, vulnerable, soft-bellied-ness that longs for the safety of the familiar.

Stoke and caress this creature part of you with your loving touch.  Hold this one gently in your reassuring embrace.  Whisper the sweetness that will calm the body and open the breath.

I absolutely know that I will be alright.  With the body alive or not. I will be alright.  Oh, but the body itself had been stirred to her core. So, she soaked up that touch and dropped into peaceful sleep.

With cyber-hugs and love,
Sharon

Not long ago, while I was sitting in the “what’s next?”, I wrote about my experience of waiting.  Here’s an update on what’s been unfolding for me.
 
I was waiting; and then I wasn’t.   The next movement became clear; invitations; commitments; airline tickets bought.  And here I am; writing this from Ecuador. 

The Holy often moves beyond the confines of the linear time and space that I’m most comfortable with.   It’s a continual practice to deepen in my trust of the impeccable timing of “The Holy Tickle That Moves My Feet”.  

Here some of the thoughts that have been stirring in me:

*  At times that impulse to move can look like a small, insignificant step. Take that step!

*  At other times following that impulse can seem like stepping off a cliff into thin air. Leap!

* Following that impulse doesn’t always look neat and tidy. It’s not always a rosy, smooth road. It doesn’t necessarily lead to where or what I expected. (more accurately, it has never  lead to what I expected. lol) My thoughts might get tangled up in confusion; but, there is a place, when I am still, where  that impulse feels absolutely right.

*  When I’m moved by an irresistible impulse one of my habits is to act like the waiting ceases and  it’s time for me to take over with action.  It’s like I tell God “Thanks for the direction, I’ve got it from here.”    So, I come to the practice of letting go of my compulsive doing-ness and slip back into spaciousness that invites the doings to emerge and flow with ease, through presence.

* I have  become curious about cultivating a deeper experience of “waiting in presence” in contrast to “waiting in distraction”.

Here’s the paradox that makes me smile…
When I go deeper, there’s no such thing as waiting. 

Every moment is the only moment.
Breathe this Now Moment.  
Feel what’s here right now.
See the aliveness that permeates everything.  

Life is happening in what I called the waiting moments.   

I meet Love here. Love meets me here.  
There’s a shit-load happening in the waiting.  
I’m reminding myself not to miss it.

Sharing my thoughts from Ecuador and sending you love,
Sharon

I’ve been pondering the potential for change and transformation that comes hand-in-hand with the Coronavirus.   When I widen my vision beyond the fear-based barrage of news, I see the ripe potential that this time holds.  This time will change us.  It’s up to each one of us to decide if we will collapse in fear or rise in Love.

Everyone’s gifts are needed right now.   You are needed right now.

In the midst of the fear, panic and uncertainly, staying rooted in presence, love, and vision is as important as thorough hand washing and ramping-up our immune system.  

Ground yourself in why you’re alive on this planet.  Cultivate new ways to share compassion and connection with others.  Disconnect from the constant diet of information/misinformation and bathe in messages of inspiration and creativity.

Find your practices: the ones that keep your energy flowing;  that ground you in presence; that support you to relax into your natural state; that invite the gifts that are uniquely yours to come forth.

Notes to myself …  Be still, dance, laugh, make-love, cry, sing, pray, play, howl, nap, smile, shake, feet on the earth, get in water, drink water, be nurtured by nature, listen to nature, listen to uplifting music, call a friend, cultivate gratitude. Hands on my heart, breath into my belly.  Find things that bring me delight, like this cartoon …

Yes, it’s like this poem by Dorothy Hunt ….

THE INVITATION
When God comes in your house
it is only by your invitation,
but even your invitation is God’s,
for she has always been
landlady and tenant,
windows and walls,
the fire in your hearth
and the cold wind blowing at your door.
 
At first, her visits seem so welcome.
She brings tea and cookies and loves you
so sweetly inside your own heart.
You keep inviting her back
by your prayers and meditations,
imagining you’ve found the one you always wanted
who will hold you on her endless lap
and take away your pain forever.
 
But pretty soon, she starts arriving
unexpectedly, at odd hours of the day and night,
and every time she comes,
she takes something away–
a pretty picture here, a bookcase there,
maybe even some trash
you are happy to be rid of
in your basement.
 
But at some point, it occurs to you
she intends to move in completely.
And now the mind starts backing up:
“Perhaps you could come back another day,
after I’ve worked on my house,
after I’ve bought nicer furniture,
after I’ve finished my fight with evil,
after I’ve planted a peace garden.”
 
But you must know
that if you invite God in,
sooner or later she will set up house,
and when she does, beware;
for she tosses out every single thing
she does not need, which,
in the case of the personality,
is every single thing you thought you were.
 
Every thought and cherished belief
she just throws out on the garbage heap;
and that might be fine if she replaced them,
but she never replaces those sacred thoughts;
she utterly destroys them. She strips the coverings
off the walls, and peels the paper from the window glass,
opens the door to invite in the wind,
and every creature you wanted kept out.
 
Sometimes she cleans your house gently,
dismantling it room by room.
But often, she just comes in with a torch,
and you feel in your gut the fire burn
in the center of your separate comfort,
and you watch the contents of your house
melt and turn to ash,
and the roof blow off.
 
And just when you think
there is nothing more that she could take,
she opens the ground beneath
the barely intact shell of your house,
and all the levels of your being
fall into the space that has no name;
and you are left alone in all the world,
without a map, without a path, without a point of view.
 
And you know you are creator of your dreams,
your dreams of mountains and rivers,
calm seas and storm clouds,
crashes of lightning and spacecraft,
beautiful babies asleep at the breast,
joyful dancing and puppies at play,
Spring’s new blossoms,
and the threat of Winter’s war.
 
And at this point,
what you are inside your house
is simply What is looking out.
Nothing’s left but what is looking,
yet everything you see is you.
Now your life turns inside out.
 
Your body is the world of being
looking out of Just What Is.
And strange as it seems
to the mind of your memory,
you enjoy each dance of yourself,
even the pains you hoped to be rid of,
you experience fully without regret.
For everywhere your eye may look,
all it sees is infinite love
displaying itself in creation.
 
And just to be completely honest,
there are times you might be tempted
to rebuild your house of concepts,
for the mind just loves to think;
but the fire of Truth resides within you,
where it always lived before you knew,
and it keeps revealing moment to moment
what is false and what is true.
 
So what can be said about what happens
when God takes over her house?
She laughs and simply sips her tea,
washes her dishes and sleeps when it’s time,
then goes to find another house
where there has been an invitation,
an invitation to come in
from the deep, deep love of Herself.
 
~ Dorothy Hunt

Yes, it’s like that.
With love,
Sharon