Honor

My new routine involves me creeping out of the house in darkness. I attempt to move as swiftly and silently as possible so not to wake everyone sleeping. I ascend the steps to my car in darkness with some moonlight and the sound of the River singing the day arise. I drive to work in contemplative thought and discussion. Once at work, I go to my room and sit in darkness. Sometimes with some oil diffusing and sometimes with some music. I sit and drop into my willingness to be with the day in the best possible way. I practice yoga until it feels complete. Then, I sit again with the newness of myself.

And now I have added to this routine. I write.

I firmly believe this is more ritual than routine. I am connected.

Today my heart, body, and mind converged on a concept of Honor. Today I am charged with honoring the love. I am discovering that I want to be thankful for the love I have received in all forms at all times of my life. I want to honor the love I have given. In reflection of this I feel my breath deepen and know that this giving and receiving of love is breath. It is as essential and simple as breathing.

I am so grateful for those that have loved me throughout my journey. I am so grateful for the immense displays of conventional love as well as the man that stood in the rain and held the door for me this morning. The security guard that hollered “watch your step the floor is wet!”. I am grateful for such love. The love that came from the sleeping student in my class yesterday. I am thankful that he felt safe and comfortable enough to surrender to his needed rest. I am thankful for the kisses from my children as they recharge my soul and send me flung into the universe on a comet of love.

I am honoring myself for the love I have given. For the letters written, the drawings, paintings, and things made with love. The food I have prepared for others and myself. The presents, hugs given, and kisses shared. I honor the love I showed myself when I have stumbled out of despair to rise one more day no knowing why until now. The love that was bound in countless Yes’s and a few No’s. I am capable of such wondrous love and see now the intense beauty it has and the path it will take, the spiral and link to the love I have received and will continue to receive as long as I breathe or have someone’s thoughts breathed about me.

A dear friend said this morning that he is trying to live in the honor of someone whom he loved that recently passed. I think that is possibly one of the greatest things we all can do.

Live in honor of Love.

Give and Receive

Breathe

Love

A garden wall

It is a bustling day back to work and the air is crisp, biting, and awaiting direction from the wind. I am very aware that today is important. Always when I return back to my routine after I have spent time focused on prayer and meditation, those initials steps back into the regular rhythm of life are important. Especially if i have had time away from work, a holiday. Today I came to work early and filled all my water jugs to feed my plants and make tea. I sat in mediation, did yoga and sat again. I prayed for strength to stay focused on health and selfcare. I prayed for guidance in helping others and myself. I prayed for the understanding of boundaries and how to uphold them especially today. I knew I could easily take on more than needed.

I had a vision of a beautiful garden growing up around me creating a breathable, moveable, and glorious protective shield all around me. My garden wall shall wrap me and help me stay on my personal journey. The leaves and fresh blossoms wil caress me and adorne me. The wines will strengthen my limbs and help me to spread without breaking myself into pieces. I will walk through my day with my garden as my shield and inspiration.

Labyrinth

IMG_2336

I stepped into the labyrinth path not sure of what I needed, wanted, or why I was walking. I started slowly. One step at a time trying to listen to my breath and the wind. I was in pain and didn’t realize it. For a while I have been floating through my days acting as if I was happy and ‘in a good place”. And maybe I was. But there was pain. Pain that had not been introduced or acknowledged. It was small, sharp and tender. I have spent many hours in reflection confronting my pain and joy in hopes of embracing it all. It wasn’t until I stepped into the labyrinth, stepped in with a yielding heart did I notice this piece of myself. I had been praying for a door to be shown to me. A door to the next path of my journey. A new career, a new life, a new something to be presented to me so I could run to it and through it.

I tried to envision myself available and ready to be presented with this opportunity. I attempted to let the Universe know I was ready to leave what I knew as my daily routine and fly to something exciting and new. (Oh Universe, you are more clever and interesting than I give you credit!) As I walked I visualized a room full of doors that could be opened and I prayed that my walk, my weekend of meditation would rescue me from my current path and light up a new door. I thought about it flashing and flying open with a beautiful flourish and glorious light and music that I would dance my way into my true self.

I had been in this mindset where I didn’t like my job and the people I work for or at least the policies that dictate my day. I could feel a dread of returning to work after a holiday and it was not the typical “not wanting to leave vacation land” dread. It felt deeper and sadder. I felt like I was willingly digging myself into a hole that I would claim I was stuck inside. I was beginning to understand that I was walking myself to my despair. I was sad.

I stopped on the path and looked around. I took in the sounds of the meadow coming alive in the afternoon sun. I prayed again “please, please, please show me what is next, what is great, what is true.” I expected to get insight from the wonderful person that was Leading my workshop. I thought she would say or do something and tell me or even command me to try something new. I thought she would save me before I buried myself. The birds flew very close to me. The bees rested on my skin and I didn’t flinch. A mothy butterfly thing fluttered on my breath causing me to walk again. As I took each new step, I felt the pain again. A tiny piercing but gentle pain was awakening deep within my body. Tears started to swell in my eyes and drip from the corners down my cheek. At first I was confused, but I let it happen. I didn’t wipe them away, I let them go where they needed to go. I began to cry without understanding of why. I brought my mind back to my little pain. It was like a whisp of light and emotion somewhere deep in my shell.

I heard a voice. Or maybe I heard myself. But the words of Rumi rang out clear and soft, “The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”

“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”

“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”

My breath latched on something sharp like a crack and then poured out with tears and a warm, fluid light. This sounds so unreal even as I write it, but I swear this is what I felt. My mind showed me images of cracked glass, shattered Earth and then a small flower bud with small bits ripping open to bloom. At that image, I understood something with out words. I was the shattered cracking beauty ripping to bloom. I began to laugh and walk faster. I talked to myself about allowing myself to crack open and bloom. Could I do it? Could I be brave? Along my walk ,I saw many small flowers trying to open in the sun and my chest ached. ACHED so intensely I actually stumbled and cried out. I am fairly certain there were others at the Labyrinth when I entered but in that moment it was only me. Only me.

Then my walk became more steady and directed. Only me…became simply me. A glorious Me. The meadow around me seemed a few shades brighter or more vivid. I tried to clear my eyes, thinking it was the tears distorting my world into a technicolor land of OZ, but it was real. I thought back to my initial concerns. What did I hope to achieve from this weekend and meditation? I was hoping for a door, an escape into my new life. I wanted to be shown a door to the next Me that I would love. A door. I focused on this image I had been obsessed with, a door. As I neared the center of the Labyrinth a door was presented to me in my mind. It became more clear but somewhat frustrating. I kept trying to see it open up and show me the new world that would make my life better. To my confusion, it did open but not out to something. The door swung in…it lead me inward. Inside this door was that concentrated ball of light trying to escape.

I stopped in my tracks and blinked several times. I shut that inner door and took some breaths. What was happening?

The way to my true self is through me…the place I have not wanted to go. The place I have tried to transform and escape. I thought back to the flowers beginning to burst open. We never think of those places of green ripping to reveal such vibrance as glorious pain. Maybe pain is not the right word anymore. It is more like a release after a strong hold. I began to pray and walk with energy thinking about myself bursting into bloom. I wanted to embrace the idea that I too could crack and allow the light to enter and escape. That light can fill me and the world to be part of a one.

Leonard Cohen says, “There is a crack in everything, that is how the light gets in.” I have spent so much time trying to fill the cracks. Now perhaps I can focus on being the shattered, cracking, beauty ripping to bloom.

A Case of You

Love hate mitts

Love hate mitts

Somewhere in the middle of the night before my daughter was born, I was struggling and thought she would never come out.  I had a very long labor.  I cherish every moment now but at the time, I was scared.  I was exhausted.  I was confused.  I was scheduled to be induced at 41 weeks.  I would have to go into the hospital on Sunday evening.  I felt defeated.  I didn’t want to be induced.  I wanted that unexpected “oh my God it is happening” moment.  We decided that we would do whatever we could to get this started.  I ate spicy food, went for a mile walk and had sex. Finally at 5pm on Saturday I started to have labor pains.  They progressed and became very difficult to manage but I did not begin to dialate.  In and out of the hospital we went from Saturday evening to Sunday afternoon. Our doula, Randy, came to the house to help me through.  I was vomiting and unable to keep anything down.  I was dehydrated.  Randy had helped me push through many hours at home and then recommended I head off to the hospital in the afternoon. Visit after visit from the midwife I was not dialating.   Each hour that approached we were convinced that it would bring the birth of our baby girl.  And each hour passed with major pain and no progression.  My husband sat in a horribly uncomfortable chair, playing video games, telling stories and trying not to be impatient while having a chat with me.  I was tired.

 
Somewhere in the blur of time and pain, an incredibly familiar and soothing voice cut through to my heart.  Joni Mitchell brought me into a place of calm, courage and connection to my inner spirit. It renewed my sense of self and I felt as if everything was blissfully as it should be – pain, fatigue and confusion were now my friends. It is amazing what music can do for me.  I salute you Joni as you have saved me countless times from being swallowed into darkness or despair.
I looked over and saw my husband’s eyes.  He was rubbing my feet and smiling.  ~How did he know?  How did he know I needed him, needed Joni, I needed.  
I could drink a case of you.
We traveled the next haze of labor with a soundtrack that was so perfect that even on my best day I couldn’t have planned it.  It was as if the universe saw that we opened a door and it swept in and flooded me with a musical support system that touched all of us.  With every song, we giggled and inhaled at its poignant timing.  Sometimes opening Pandora’s box reveals wondrous things that are beautiful, funny and perfect. Joni wafted in and out of that morning.  I feel like she was present at the birth of my daughter.  I thank Neil Young, Eva Cassidy, Stevie Wonder, CSN, Dylan, the Dead and many others that connected Matt, Juliana, and I even stronger to each other.  My daughter was born at 9:50 in the morning to Buckley singing Leonard Cohen’s classic “Alleluia” song.  
Love
 
original post 16 Feb2013