Gratitude 1/1/20

1. The rush of aliveness that comes with my spring phase.

2. Chosen silence.

3. I’m excited to breath deeply and push all the passion bubbling up inside me through my veins and finger tips and toes and beyond.

4. I’m excited about the possibilities a day does bring. The blessings and gratitude and understanding or just the light that will be shining somewhere that I feel even if I cannot see.

5. I’m excited for coffee and stretches and snacks and vitamins and making offerings of love and affection to my Earth bound body.

6. I’m excited for a late night and late morning.

7. I’m excited for meditations and visualizations that open windows and doors in the dusty, dark, and lonely rooms of my mind and let freshness and light flood in.

8. I’m excited for me. And all the time and energy and love and peace that was inherited in my seed. I’m thankful for the ways it makes me live.

9. I’m excited I might share this with someone and they could feel a connection with me and move into an empty place in my life that I’ve been saving for them.

10. I’m excited for the magic and wonder and unique texture of this day. And how it can hold me no matter what and I will not sink through or break it’s seams with any amount of my human concern. It will just hold me sure and steady and a little bit rhythmic like you hold a young thing, swaying left to right and pressing it’s little head to your chest so that it can hear and feel the strong beat of your willingness and mentorship.

11. Thank you to the Being or Beings that have picked me up and rocked me all my life.

Body of Light

I do feel better now. The last few days my mind has been tripping over all kinds of things. Searching. Taste testing. Falling from heights I did not realize were inside of me.

Then I decide to go home – The simple but often forgotten practice of rediscovering my body. It’s a slow, patient, process that I don’t always believe there is time for. But I can’t forget it’s power. I bask in how it went. Grabbing toes, turning on the little muscles that make my ass and thighs shake. Twitching, counting, dancing, having little contests with myself. The smell of my hair as it tickles my nose in a long held pose, hints of sage and cinnamon. The stretch and lengthening that my breath creates, against the beat of rhythms that turn the lights down in my mind, make all the rough spots smooth, and the uncertain spots strong.

Remembering that I have a body always helps with the anxiety that comes this time of year. Remembering My roots, remembering I belong in this place, in this vessel that is governed by universal laws. I am not “on the outside” of anything. This shelter I call my body is made of the same elements that have produced planets, including the one I live on. All the lifeforms here (including me) are bits of her flesh. The same processes that propel the moon and stars move me through time and space as well. I am part of the body of life. I’m a sliver of the infinite.

And it’s all going to be ok.

Then there is nothing “too” big anymore. Things are small and put in there proper proportions. Human drama = minuscule, loneliness = impossible, Life = unstoppable, this moment = everything I need.

I know I am loved now. I can relax into unfathomable billows of love. Because this body, this planet, this Life are propelled by a kind of life-giving love. And it shows me how to be the one who loves me. Because Love is embedded in this “going” we call time. It is the ancient root that tendrils us all.

Ps. This song.

Delight in slow deliberate growth.

Don’t force it.
Just enjoy the build up.
So it’s slow.
Let it be slow.
Let your breath and limbs relish in its tension.
Let trust envelop the philosophers in your mind.
Let it wax.
Let it wan too.
It will come back around.

Press into it.
Appreciate its pulp.
The sweet illusive magic of its essence.
Explore its subtle edges.
That bleed like water color into the rest of life.

Because I want to

I Know contentment.
Reverence.
Wonder.

I Know the power
of my varied edges and sides.
I Know they are just right.
They are serving me.

I Know patience.
I Know its waves of anticipation
also, its warm incubation.

I Know my Source.
It’s endless loving essence. 
Its assurance, it’s ability, and delight.

I know because I want to. 

Ps. Here’s a similar piece called What I Know (A Birthday edition)

And now, move.

Sometimes I wish I were different already.
That I could untie the knots in my mind, on demand.
Make my limbs reach more readily for the love that I crave.

But there’s this ravine it seems, between me and the creature I wish to be.
There’s some big long journey  involved?

…Or is there?
Is that just an excuse, a story of resistance?
Did words not create this story to begin with? As they do so many other things? As they will my freedom.

Is all I desire simply one step away?
My untrusting mind frozen in place?
I wish I could thaw it.
Perhaps I can..
Perhaps I just need to speak the warm words that will melt my trepidation.

Say:

“Thaw.

Fear not! – where your next step will land you.

Know that you are only everything you say you are.”

Say:

“I am Veracious Love.”

And now, move.

All I need.

Tonight I drove home from work in a snow storm. The world looking like a Lite-Brite smeared behind cold glass. The snow flakes just pouring down under street lights in every direction. Sugar rain from an endless source.

And I thought to myself…
“Abundance.”

And then I felt that each snowflake that landed on my car brought something that I needed into my life. Each a solution, a blessing, or surprise.

One for a peaceful house when I get home. One for words that untie the tangles in my soul. One for the exercise my body is craving. One for every single person who will feed me their soul-chips.

Countless specks for love and laughter. Some for the music that soothes me. Some for joys, some for strength, some for ease. Some for the way through uncertainty.

On and on it went. A lifetime of everything I need landing on me. Even the things I can’t name yet or things that may never have a name. Even the things that have come and I’ve forgotten them but they left a kind of peace.

Endless, endless, endless, support in each landing. Until soon each crystal drew a whisper from my love drenched heart.

A soft and happy “Thanks.”

For Kim, Priestess of Pronoia – who taught me this concept with falling leaves.