inner journey

Like This

Listen to Life. She has a lot to say. Go into the still, quiet room in your heart. Rest there, and listen. Her subtle voice is heard through rustling leaves, through the call of the mourning dove echoed against the stillness at dawn, the cry of the hawk against anciently carved canyons, through continuously lapping waves, through wind, and rain. It is heard in your breath, and in your courageously beating heart. Let’s not be too busy to hear Her. Relax there, in that still, quiet room. Life’s natural state is one of ease, as the deeply rooted tree yields to the fierce, powerful storm. The resistance is optional.

The pain, the grief, the anguish, the sadness, the feeling of emptiness and loss—they’re all just something deep within necessarily cracking open. Like the snake who sheds her skin in order to go on. They require no analysis, no explanation, and no answers. Just room to be. This process is as natural as thick impregnated clouds letting their rain fall steadily. The rain never needed a big story. It just needed to fall. And in so doing alchemizes potential into an explosion of powerfully colorful being. Learn not to be halted by these things, but rather grow around, with, and through them. Breathe into the density instead of contracting around it in a desperate attempt not to feel it. The strength and capacity to be with this level of intense discomfort is already there. The resistance is optional.

When you find yourself tossed about—identified with the turbulence of the wave—don’t forget to access the deep resource of the entire ocean. That which you’ve always been is yours to remember. What you’re rooted into goes as deep as you let it. BE your way into it. You are the eye of the storm, not the storm itself. This ride isn’t optional. You said yes to life long ago. Let it merely be happenstance, or deliberately chose to turn your sails into the wind. Take great care when sewing your seeds. Your inner and outer garden (one and the same) are a reflection of this. Be steadfast and persistent. Keep turning toward Life with an open heart, though it feels at times like being eviscerated. The strength and capacity to be with this is already there. The resistance is optional. 

This

     There are times in life when utter doubt, confusion, and chaos move in like a dense fog settled upon the land. It seems as though we’ve lost the ability to see even our hand in front of our face. During times like this we have the propensity to begin a furious search for meaning, for answers. We go to this therapist, that book, this spiritual path, or that teacher. Desperate for clarity and meaning—for clear sunny blue skies—we begin seeking as though our very lives depend upon it. Sometimes guidance is appropriate. Another’s wisdom can serve as a signpost, an arrow.

                One reason that we have such a difficult time with these internal weather patterns is because they are uncomfortable–at times so uncomfortable that we feel as though we are being eviscerated. Most of us aren’t taught how to be with this intense discomfort. At times, instead of being with this intense discomfort we unknowingly project our hurt onto others in the form of blame, in a sense becoming a victim. Or we eat, drink, or binge watch episodes in a desperate attempt not to feel what we’re feeling.

                The potential for the capacity to be with all of it is there. It is inherent within us. It is quite possible to stop squirming against discomfort and instead allow it. To stop blaming others for our pain—or using other numbing behaviors—and begin to use our discomfort as the teacher, the guide, the therapist. All this takes is a willingness to stay, a willingness to stay with the intense physical sensation that is present in your chest, your gut, your pelvis, or wherever it may be. This intensity needs to breathe. It needs space and allowance. Continued resistance of it can result in a state of contracted energy buried deep within that ultimately turns into a state of dis-ease. Would you ever shout at a cloudy or foggy sky, “Hey, you’re not supposed to be here! I’d prefer a sunny sky instead!”? It would seem like madness to suggest to the present moment that it ought not be here.

                Our capacity cannot stretch if we do not open the door to what is uncomfortable and stand unwaveringly before it. While our culture distinguishes between physical and emotional pain, at the most subtle level they are not distinguishable. Next time you experience the unpleasantness of sadness, anger, confusion, or doubt, drop the concepts of sadness, anger, confusion, and doubt and simply be with the physical sensations, the breath. Go into a quiet room and drop the story, the explanations, and the analysis of your experience and simply be with your experience. Stay with it. Eventually it might not seem difficult to stay with discomfort. What felt charged, painful, and uncomfortable might just begin to lose its juice.

                As our capacity stretches we begin to find the strength and the courage to trust ourselves. We begin to realize that the very fibers of our being are suffused with the profound and outrageous intelligence of the Eternal itself—the same intelligence that beats our hearts, pulses life force through our veins, and births nebulas, black holes, and galaxies. The very same inexplicable intelligence that keeps us upright on earth with gravity, breathing oxygen, our innards staying in while we rotate around the sun at 67,000 miles per hour and hurl through space at 420,000 thousand miles per hour. That intelligence.

     All of a sudden it becomes much easier to trust ourselves and our capacity. To stop doubting who and what we are and instead open up to and allow the magnificence that we already are (that we just temporarily forgot about) with all of its weather patterns, not just the sunny, calm, and pleasant ones. We realize that we erroneously decided somewhere along the line that discomfort meant bad and not magnificent. We drop that false notion and instead let our discomfort morph into our wisdom. We develop the capacity to allow what is uncomfortable—just like eternity allows the birth and destruction of everything. As we remember what we are we begin to trust ourselves, to listen to our own intuition—that wordless voice that is our only true compass and hums louder as the noise dampens and the dust settles. Ultimately, we no longer need that teacher, that book, that spiritual path, or that therapist because we realize we were always all of those things. Ultimately, our evisceration becomes our liberation.

The Great Remembering

 

There is a revolution taking place—one that does not call for weapons. Gather ‘round, gather ‘round friends. Reach for the person’s hand on your left, and the person’s hand on your right. Link up in a circle of communion.

In our center rests a glowing ember—a hot smoldering thing that has inherent within it the potential to transform the world. With the deepest breath you can muster, steadily blow on that ember. Listen to the crackle as now a small flame advances, consuming branches of hate, fear, and judgement of self and other. With your entire being, keep blowing. Propel the flame of compassion, love, understanding, kindness, and forgiveness. Blow just a little harder still.

Witness the flame consume negativity, hate, fear, judgement & doubt of self and other, as it hisses and crackles, turning into a wildfire. Feel relief wash over you as the stress of carrying all of THAT for millennia washes away from your shoulders, your mind, your entire body. The weight of those mind-created concepts turned beliefs turned reality is stifling enough to have pinned humanity under it for aeons.

Now your own deep reverberant cries begin. From unfathomable depths—deeper than your chest or belly—emerges a wail that is echoed from the walls of the farthest reaches of eternity. With vulnerability and tenderness, feel those heaving cries that spring out of the contraction that embedded itself in you the moment that you forgot you were anything other than the SACRED DIVINE. You cry harder still with the relief that comes as you forgive yourself, and everyone else, for ever having believed the false notion of separateness, the false notion that the body is anything other than a HOLY TEMPLE within which all of your prayers are received. All of them, without exception.

This is the only fall from grace that ever occurred—the great forgetting of what IS. The great forgetting that heaven is here and now, that we are manifestations of the divine, inherent within us the same power that birthed the universe, that birthed the vast expanse of eternity within which we are privileged to do our life dance. We are that.  It never has been, and never will be, any other way. The return pilgrimage begins here and now. Existence itself is cheering for us.

As your warm salty tears fall to the earth with the relief of releasing that false notion of separateness, with self-forgiveness for ever having looked into the eyes of another and seen anything other than your own divinity peering back at you, you might fall to the earth on your knees. You might hear her whispering. You might just place your palms on her exquisite aliveness (one that is daily forgotten), your forehead to her Earth forehead, and listen as she pleads for a softer, gentler touch. “Your survival depends on it,” she says softly, “Not my survival but your survival.”

 All the while, never stop blowing on that fire of kindness, compassion, eternal love, understanding, and forgiveness. For now she’s raging, threatening to consume us all. With my hand linked to yours in communion, I march into that raging fire and let any vestige of separateness consume itself.  And should I ever forget again—for a moment or a year— please, please remind me. While it is a self-remembering, we cannot do this alone because we never were separate. May we develop the strength not to forget in the face of those who have not yet remembered.  We are responsible for all of us. Yes to the Great Remembering. Yes to this revolution. 

Formless Play

There is no structure,

no form

made tangible.

As soon as form emerges

it transforms.

There is only

fluid

free-form

Eternity.

 

Rest into this.

 

It is benevolent

and brilliantly color-splashed.

It is feminine.

It had to be

to birth itself.

 

It is both

teacher and student,

living,

and not living.

 

It is playing.

We're IT,

so we might as well

play too.

 

 

Life Dance

This morning I was reminded about dancing fluidly with life.

 I saw that I’d begun to get ahead of myself in a future goal-oriented kind of way … my energy, my life-force jumping ahead of me in that patterned brain response of goal-orientation.

It was brilliant when I realized this. And I took a deep breath.

When I go about things that way, the spontaneity, the vibrancy, and the richness are lost to me. I’m no longer able to experience the fullness of life--its textured, undulating, spontaneous, effulging, aliveness.

Bring it back, I remind myself. Here and now is where it already is. There is never actually a future. Only now. And how I engage with now determines the quality of the nows to come. Now is the sum-total of all of the nows that have come before. What seeds am I sewing?

I’d rather all of me show up to dance fluidly with life as she moves through me--feel her breath on my neck, experience her essence vibrating and pulsing within every atom of my being, behold her wild musings, her delightful whispers, move with her, be still with her. I'd rather let her lead, let her show me the way.

This. Human. Life.