Darkness and Light

“Hello darkness, my old friend. I’ve come to talk with you again.” 

While Paul Simon takes us in a different direction with the rest of his lyrics, those beginning phrases speak beautifully to me of this time of the year. The days between the Winter Solstice and Christmas are special to me. They encourage me to pause. They whisper, “Hush now, be still.” And I feel myself welcomed back home after months of activity.

The Solstice occurred Friday at 3:22 p.m. and brought with it 5 hours and 38 minutes more darkness than we had at midsummer. Our culture, extroverted as it is, tends to be more comfortable with expansiveness and outward movement. We are primed for activity and like what can be seen and understood with the rational mind. Winter calls for something altogether different. Darkness encourages receptivity and listening with an inner ear. Winter offers us an opportunity to turn inward and, by its example, calls us to stillness. 

Attending to Earth’s cycles doesn’t mean we value one mode of being over the other. It means we recognize the gifts of both the Yin and the Yang, and consciously sync our own rhythms to them. 

And so, during this time of greater darkness, we might pull down into our roots, like the cottonwood by the riverside. And rest. In our stillness, we may also dream, as the cottonwood dreams, of stretching our branches to new lengths in the springtime and giving to the world fresh shoots of dazzling green. 

Dreaming, imagining, and opening to unrealized possibilities are exquisite wintertime activities. Yet we do these things from a state of repose, leaving the shaping of that potential to brighter skies and warmer weather. In reference to Paul’s lyrics, we may indeed talk with darkness, but now is primarily the time to listen to it, and let it gently guide us forward. 

I took a walk in the deepest darkness of that longest night of the year. All was silent. The moon shone in her fullness with a vividness all the more welcomed amid such inky blackness. And I thought of Christ and the Light he shone into the other kind of darkness that is also part of our human world.

The Solstice is not only a time for stillness, reflection, dreaming, and rest. It is also a remembrance of the light and a time to celebrate its return. Its pairing with Christmas thus seems apt, with the return of a seasonal light calling us to attend to the Light of the soul, with its innate capacity as a conduit for Love. 

So today, this is my prayer...May we greet the darkness of these winter days as an old friend, dropping down into the stillness it offers. And may the Light we find there illuminate our soul’s own path to a more fully embodied Love. Let it be so. Amen.

In Light and in Love,

Leia

            

Grace Arrives On A Cloud

These last few months have been a whirlwind. First, we had a ringside seat at the third largest fire in Colorado history, nearby mountains ablaze, emergency personnel on the ground, helicopters whirring overhead. A few weeks later, a hailstorm swept through our town, totaling cars, smashing glass, and pummeling enough homes to keep roofers and siding companies busy for months.

Then came very sweet visits with 15 family members in under three weeks, followed by a Sufi retreat. And I now move through the myriad planning details for a women’s winter solstice event I’ll be facilitating at a nearby hot springs. And all of this amid an already full life…and while humankind’s shadow side is being displayed all around us.

Yes, it has been a whirlwind, indeed. Fear, delight, anguish, love, despair, awe, angst, excitement, weariness, satisfaction. Each day finds me swept up by one of these emotions, often to be deposited soon into another. 

My task, of course, is to live it all while never losing that still point in the center. Or at least not losing it for long. Spiritual practice is not about sitting on a pew or meditation cushion. It is about living from that still point when all swirls rapidly, beautifully, or crazily within and around us. Because we’re all learning here, we do structure times to come back to center. We welcome, too, those moments when grace comes unbidden.

Such was the cloud I walked through this morning. It hadn’t been my plan to do so. It had seemed ages since I’d seen the vivid colors of dawn, and I had hoped to catch them today. As I dressed, though, it seemed darker outside than the clock said it should be. Sure enough, as I stepped off the porch, rime coated the bare branches of trees and the sky was leaden, only slightly lighter in the east than to the west.

As I reached the lake, all was shades of gray, and I could see only a few yards ahead of me. The rest was lost to cloud, a dense, gift~giving cloud. The hush was palpable, muffling by its presence the internal chatter that so often claims me. I walked forward nearly blind and, with vision and sound altered so, time stood still, if it existed at all. And I discovered anew and in a deeper way, that when we can’t see where we’re going, we can more fully be where we are. 

A dear friend recently shared a quote from author Gunilla Norris: “In the end, where we are going is where we already are—deep in the Heart that holds everything.” Yes. That was the experience given me by whirlwind and cloud. We ARE held deep in the Heart that holds everything. And that is something to give thanks for on this holiday weekend, one devoted to gratitude.

With gratitude overflowing,

Leia

If you'd like to learn more about the Winter Solstice Women's Retreat, click here.

                        

Women's Retreat, Part II

Darkness & Light

A Winter Solstice Women's Retreat

at 

Joyful Journey Hot Springs

December 20th~~December 22nd

I'm so glad you've made it to this page, because it means you're considering attending the Solstice Retreat. I hope what you read here will grow your interest further and, if it feels right, lead you to take the leap to register. 

About the Retreat...While the schedule for Retreat events is still being finalized, the Retreat will begin at 5 p.m. Thursday, December 20th and end by 1:00 p.m. Saturday, December 22nd. The Winter Solstice occurs on Friday, the 21st just before 3:30 p.m., and the Moon will be at peak fullness on Saturday, the 22nd just before 11 a.m. Retreat activities will work with the combined power of these energies to assist you in clarifying where you've been, support you to release whatever has served its function, and ready you to leap into the future that awaits you, the one you will take an active part in creating. You'll receive additional Retreat details in early December.

About me...I am in my early sixties and have been a life~long seeker and spiritual traveler. I am fascinated by all things transformative, and my work as a group facilitator, spiritual mentor, psychotherapist and reiki master has enriched me in so very many ways. I maintain a vibrant spiritual practice and am committed to doing my own personal work, so that I can continue to grow into the fullness of my own being and authentically assist others in doing the same. In this retreat, it is my heartfelt intention to honor the unique beauty of each one of the dear souls who chooses to attend, and to offer steady support as you use the Retreat's offerings to continue the exquisite soulwork of moving forward on your own path to wholeness and a rich experience of living. 

About costs...The prices below cover: 

• All Retreat activities, lovingly crafted to assist you in moving forward into all you can be; 
• Lodging Thursday and Friday nights in lovely hotel rooms, yurts or your own RV, with robes and towels provided;
• Breakfasts Friday and Saturday mornings, dinners Thursday and Friday nights, and snacks throughout. To keep costs as low as possible, I'm suggesting that we each bring something to contribute for Friday's lunch;
• Use of a spacious and beautiful meeting room, outdoor labyrinth and fire pit throughout our Retreat;
• Access to those magnificent hot pools for three full days~~all day Thursday, Friday and Saturday;
• Breathtaking views of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, and access to the healing and rejuvenating magic of this sacred place.

The fees below do not cover optional spa treatments, which you would arrange with Joyful Journey directly. I've provided their website link below, but please wait to book treatments until you receive the final Retreat schedule. 

About accommodations...Joyful Journey has given us some great discounts for this Retreat. The eight options are:

• Sweet and comfortable hotel room, single occupancy; 
• Sweet and comfortable hotel room, double occupancy; 
• A uniquely lovely yurt, single occupancy...a bit more cozily rustic, with a shared bathhouse and walks to and fro perfect for moongazing; 
• A uniquely lovely yurt, double occupancy...cozily rustic also, and ditto on the shared bathhouse and those moonlit walks; 
• A uniquely lovely yurt, triple occupancy...ditto on above;
• A uniquely lovely yurt, quad occupancy...ditto;
• RV with electric hookup, single occupancy; 
• RV with electric hookup, double occupancy. 

Photos of hotel rooms and yurts can be found on the website linked below. Please note: While you're free to use the pools from open to close all three days, hotel and yurt check~in is at 4p.m., with check~out at 11 a.m.

Pricing inclusive of all Retreat activities, except Friday lunch and any spa treatments you choose to book on your own, is as follows:

• Hotel, Single Occupancy: $501.30
• Hotel, Double Occupancy: 421.77
• Yurt, Single Occupancy: $472.90
• Yurt, Double Occupancy: $392.35
• Yurt, Triple Occupancy: $366.92
• Yurt, Quad Occupancy: $354.21
• RV with electric hookup, single occupancy: $370.00
• RV with electric hookup, double occupancy: $337.87

Here is a link to Joyful Journey's website for additional info and to get a feel for what awaits you during Darkness & Light, A Winter Solstice Women's Retreat~~

http://joyfuljourneyhotsprings.com

Wow! That last line makes it sound like you've already signed up! Please ask your intuition to weigh in on the decision and, if it feels right, take the leap to register. If you choose to attend, I will do whatever I can to make it a safe, transformative and delightful experience.

To register, please email me at silvermountain@mac.com with your accommodation preference, and I will send you a payment link. Email me, too, if you would like further info. And please remember that REGISTRATION CLOSES ON DECEMBER 3RD, with space limited to 10~12 women, so don't delay!!!

Blessings!

Leia Marie

silvermountain@mac.com 

Women's Retreat, Part I

Darkness & Light

A Winter Solstice Women's Retreat

at 

Joyful Journey Hot Springs

December 20th~~December 22nd

The longest night of the year will be accompanied this time 'round by the moon in all the glory of her fullness. A perfect time for journeying, healing and deep transformation, with the experience gently enhanced by the magic of the Colorado's San Luis Valley and its sacred thermal springs.

Join us as we tap into the energies of this time and place. Together we will weave a vibrant and safe circle of support to integrate the gifts of what has been, surrender that which has served its purpose, and welcome all that longs to move through us and out into the world. Through guided meditation, cathartic sound and movement, individual reflection and group sharing, collage and, of course, moongazing and soaking in those magnificent healing waters, we will journey inward and come back to the world refreshed and renewed.

Please consider giving yourself the gift of this deeply transformative experience during this time of darkness and light. For more information, including pricing and accommodation options, click here: Women's Retreat, Part II. 

Registration closes on December 3rd. Space is limited, so take the leap soon! Contact Leia at silvermountain@mac.com to register and for additional information.

Blessings!

Leia Marie

Tikkun Olam

It has been a season of grandchildren, beginning in late August and ending just last week. As part of that family time, I watched movies I might not otherwise have seen, with themes that stretch far beyond the ken of little ones.

In A Wrinkle In Time, Mrs. Which warns of a darkness that “invades the place inside of us where hope and joy live, and replaces it with jealousy and judgment, pain and despair…until fear takes over, and fear turns to rage, and rage leads to violence.”

That darkness is laid out before us now, clearly apparent in the baser human impulses it fuels. Things seem rather bleak, and even the most optimistic among us can feel helpless at times. Perhaps even hopeless. 

Enter Mr. Rogers, with his gentle and reassuring presence. The film about his work, Won’t You Be My Neighbor? includes a Public Service Announcement  filmed after the World Trade Center attacks of 2001. In that clip, Rogers looks straight into the camera, eyes direct, open and loving as always, and tells us that, in the face of such horror, “we all are called to be Tikkun Olam, repairers of creation.” 

Repairers of creation…what a phrase! While some might find it arrogant to think that creation needs our help in any way, the ancient Jewish practice of Tikkun Olam urges us to do what we can. And we can do much. At the very least, we can be repairers of our own creation. 

We create minute by minute…by the thoughts we nurture, the actions we take, the values we enact within the context of our individual lives. We get to choose what we sow and what we nourish. Although, as Mrs. Which tells us, it’s challenging to “stay focused on light when darkness is present,” help is available. We are not in this alone.

Rogers shares that when, as a child, “I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’” Those helpers can help us as well. They remind us that we, too, have a choice: to give ourselves to the darkness of fear and negativity, or to be helpers ourselves, doing what we can, whatever the context.

Attuning to the force of good and bringing it into the world is at the heart of all spiritual traditions. We know this. We also know that standing in the light feels so very much better than offering ourselves to darkness. And as each person who stands in light bolsters the resolve of others to do the same, who knows what might be possible?

This post ends, as did that PSA from 2001, with these sweet words from Mr. Rogers. “Thank you for whatever you do, wherever you are, to bring joy and light and hope and faith and pardon and love to your neighbor and to yourself.”

Yes, thank you, neighbors of mine!

Leia

While I couldn't find an online video of Fred Rogers speaking about Tikkun Olam, here's the Netfliks DVD link to Won't You Be My Neighbor? where you CAN find it (alas, it wasn't available on streaming last I looked).

And I did find these two other short and very sweet clips...Helpers and Lifelong Friends.

The Treasure We Seek

While cleaning out a file last week, I came across a quote attributed to Joseph Campbell. Set beautifully upon an image of a cavern, light spilling from an opening far above, were these words: The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek.

Campbell was a scholar of mythology and comparative religion. His work, however, was not meant to be abstract. No, his genius was in gleaning truths from tales told across cultures and throughout time, and using that knowledge as intended: to illuminate the pathway toward wisdom and a rich experience of living. 

            

It’s hard being a human being. Not only is our external world often demanding, but inside we’re a confusing mix of conflicting emotions and competing desires. Complicated creatures, we are each a mix of light and dark. For those of us on a spiritual path, it is essential that we explore this inner territory, for what lies outside our awareness exerts a powerful control over it. 

            

And yet, such work is not easy. We may prefer to avoid recognizing that a current pattern is harmful or the niggling sense that it’s time for a change. Perhaps we’re in a destructive relationship. We might have a soul~numbing depression, an explosive temper, or past emotional wounds that hurt us still. Maybe we drink, use prescription meds, cannabis or food to numb ourselves. Or we may have simply not yet found a way to live fully, offering our unique spark to the world. 

            

No shame in any of that. It can be frightening to turn to face what whispers, even hollers at times, for our attention. But as Campbell’s metaphor reminds us, there are compensations if we answer the call. As we step into that cave, we surrender our fear and open to the flow of life coursing through us, moving into greater harmony with that force many call God. 

            

On the other hand, when we resist doing as we know we need to, we create barriers that wrench us out of balance. And because such blocks go against nature, they must be continually reinforced in harmful ways. 

            

So we step into that cave instead, not knowing where the path will take us. And as we do so, we might find that we are, as Campbell puts it, “met by a thousand unseen helping hands.” Spirit is on our side in this endeavor.

            

Aspens are flaming a vivid yellow on the mountainsides, and nights have turned cooler at last. Autumn has returned once again, with its urgings to turn inward. 

And if in that inward turning, we recognize that there is some aspect of our soul that needs tending, let us tend it now, knowing that we will be supported in the task and trusting that the treasure we seek shall indeed be found.

Happy spelunking, everyone!

Leia

Breaking Open...Yet Again

We almost refuse. The bank of clouds to the east seems much too thick to allow a view of the rising moon. But the night calls to us, and we respond. 

We take a seldom~used path, and let it wind us this way and that until we find our spot, its trampled grass showing it to be a favorite resting place for deer. That’s good enough for us. We ourselves need a place to rest, a patch of nurturing Earth to bring us back to center after summer’s wild ride.

            

We step off the path, put our things down. Making a slow circle, we greet each direction in turn. We then sit beneath that large expanse of darkening sky and quiet ourselves. The still waters of the lake stretch out before us, with magnificent mountains rising across the valley to the north and west. Above us, billowy clouds are lit from a moon we cannot see. 

            

Gnats and the occasional mosquito consider making a nuisance of themselves, but their presence summons a group of nighthawks, the gymnasts of the bird world. In crazy, drunken, joyful arcs they swoop and soar as they feed, white wing bars glowing in the night sky. They fly so near that their fluttering is felt, as well as seen and heard. 

            

And then, suddenly and quite spectacularly, the moon clears the hillside behind us, moving into a patch of clear sky. It shines out huge and white and breathtakingly beautiful in the glory of its fullness.

There is a palpable sense of aliveness in this place. The very air seems to hum with it. We speak in hushed tones or not at all, as folks do in church. Fitting, for we know that we are in the presence of the sacred. 

            

My companion, stepdaughter whom I have known since she was a little thing of three years, speaks softly of her own journey. She shares with such wisdom and wonder that my heart breaks at the beauty of her. 

This is not a wounding heartbreak, but an enlivening one. I am broken open by this night, by the natural world offering itself so freely, by the radiance of this woman grown. And in the breaking open, I become more fully alive. 

I am also in love, in both senses of that phrase. I actively love this sweet earth and all who walk with me upon it. I also know that I exist quite literally IN love. I feel myself surrounded by it and held within it.

            

Love is everything. It is the only thing, actually…the alpha, the omega and the magic that fills the space between. We are immersed in a sea of love. Our task is to know it and then act out of that felt experience.

            

Rather simple in theory, but harder in practice. But that’s okay. We have a lifetime to learn. That is, after all, why we are here.

Loving you,

Leia

Greeting What Is

It is time. My husband and I drive into the nearby mountains where the third largest fire in Colorado history raged a few short weeks ago. 

The swath of darkness I’ve seen from afar soon resolves itself into blackened tree after blackened tree, acre upon acre of scorched earth. We drive in near silence as the enormity unfolds, each turn of the road bringing new views of the same reality, punctuated by stands of miraculously living trees, their green dazzling to the eye. 

We stop at a clearing off the main road. I walk to a group of four burnt trees, and lie amid blackened pine cones on blackened earth. I look up into jet colored branches set starkly against a vivid blue sky. I gaze at death.

Maranasati is an ancient Buddhist practice in which one meditates on the universality and inevitability of death. Such awareness, though, is not intended to be abstract. No, it is to be felt in the bones. 

Buddhist Larry Rosenberg writes of sitting through the night with his teacher on an isolated beach in Mexico beside the “bloated, blue and festering corpse” of a drowned fisherman. As they awaited the arrival of the man’s family, Rosenberg shared feelings of fear, nausea, and resistance with his teacher, who encouraged him to simply greet whatever arose. 

Though his experience was extreme, Rosenberg writes that maranasati is “not meant to be an exercise in morbidity or self~pity, or in terrorizing ourselves.” It’s just that in turning to face what frightens us, we can finally stop running. 

While maranasti involves contemplation of one’s own physical death, life provides any number of opportunities to sit with endings, each a death in its own right. An aging body. A promising job or relationship gone sour. Sudden change with outcomes unknown. Each of these allows us to sit with what is, greeting life on its own terms, whether or not it is to our liking.

On an early morning walk recently, I heard terrified shrieks in the distance. As I reached a break in the trees, I saw into the valley below as a coyote first separated a fawn from its mother, then carried it by its neck off into the bushes. Helplessness, horror, anger and heartbreak rose alongside the awareness that this small body would likely nourish a litter of coyote young. 

Similar feelings wash over me now. As I sit up amid the fire’s destruction, though, I find myself moving a bit closer to an in~the~bones acceptance that death is simply part of life. For blades of green are breaking through the charred soil at my fingertips. So soon after such enormous loss, life is begetting life, rising quite literally from the ashes of death.

And so, today this is my prayer: May green growing things sprout always from the burn scars of our lives. And may they lead us back to joy.

Namasté, dear ones,

Leia

Here are a couple of links to Rosenberg, first on maranasati~~

Maranasati I

This second one is a short video excerpt of him talking quite refreshingly about what it means to live through difficulties as a fully alive human being, with our emotions intact~~

Sometimes ya just gotta cry

And finally, there can be a stark beauty in death. Here is a burnt branch heavy with blackened pine cones that came back from the mountains with me, a gift of those four trees. It lives now in our living room to remind me of this part of life~~

Heartbreak and Gratitude

I write this on Monday, July 2nd, Day 6 of the Spring Fire in southern Colorado which has now burned over 60,000 acres, destroyed numerous human dwellings, and killed wildlife in numbers impossible to tally.

We have watched, helpless, as our beloved mountains burn, checking weather forecasts often, hoping for rain and dreading high wind predictions. Our eyes are ever pulled to the west, alert for changes in the pattern of smoke. The air is often so thick with it that breathing is labored. Ash falls at times from the sky.

Those of us who’ve been on pre~evacuation status for days find ourselves disoriented, not knowing what to do as we wait, households and psyches turned upside down. But as we learn of community members who’ve lost everything, our own disruption is brought into perspective even while our heartbreak grows.

We live in a state of preparedness. Anxiety embraces us. We are bereft. And the fact that such widespread devastation was caused by a single human being adds another horrific layer to it all.

Spiritual traditions urge us to cope with tragedies such as these by connecting with something infinitely larger and more enduring than this temporal reality. But when fear sparks frequently, much like the fire itself, that counsel is easily forgotten. As we re~member ourselves into that larger awareness, though, the churning calms and we can better see beyond the destruction. Given high levels of agitation, this is not easy and requires conscious, sustained focus.

Whether or not we find soothing, another spiritual truth is quite apparent: we are all in this together. An individual cannot fight a wildfire, nor can a single town. We need a vast network of assistance~~a host of talented and committed strangers, governmental resources, neighbors, and loved ones near and far. During a crisis of this magnitude, political and religious affiliations, personalities that appeal or repel, categories of race, age, sexual preference…all these fall away. And as divisiveness melts into the background, love shines out. 

Love is all. Love and gratitude overflowing…for those who save our lives through risking their own, for those who reach out to say they care, for these hearts of ours that keep on pumping, offering this opportunity for life.

Pain is a given in this realm we occupy, and nothing can obliterate that hard fact. Our task is to learn to live well with that reality, to grow wiser and to love better, while experiencing fully what it means to be human. 

I took advantage of Sunday morning’s clear air to walk to the lake. Fresh plumes of smoke rose from places hitherto untouched by fire. The winds, though, were calm and free of the smell of smoke. 

This valley I love so dearly spread itself out before me. Oh, but this world is precious and so very, very beautiful!

Leia

Note: As of Monday morning, July 9th, the Spring Fire has grown significantly north to south, and now covers over 107,000 acres and is the 3rd largest fire Colorado has ever seen. It is, however, 70% contained and though we remain on pre~evacuation status, we have been fortunate enough to still be in our home...and to have a home to still be in. There have been a total of 1811 firefighters on the job. And I was pleased to learn that, despite the fears I shared above, not a SINGLE dead or injured animal was found. As Shane Greer, Incident Commander of the South Spring Fire said, "They're a lot smarter than we are. They sense these things and they get out." He also assured us that, were they to see an injured animal, standard policy is to take them to rehab.

For those who wish to do so, donations can be made to the fire department of our town at http://lavetafire.org or county http://huerfanofire.org. Also, Team Rubicon, a non~profit disaster relief agency is on the scene, offering free home cleanup services to homeowners who now have dead trees blocking their drive or other hazards that they need help with. Not only have they have been praised by the fire response folks, but I just read a portion of their website and their secondary purpose is to give purpose to veterans, their organization's primary base. Here's their site with a Donate button in the upper right~~ https://teamrubiconusa.org

If you would like further information, you can check out the fire's facebook page at  https://www.facebook.com/SpringFire2018/

Petals Unfolding

It’s happening again. Days stretch longer into night, and trees have exploded into green. Flowers bloom, and edible plants promise food to nurture body and soul. Springtime has once more given way to summer, and the outer world has come alive. Vibrancy that was hidden just a few weeks ago bursts forth now for all to see. 

            

And what about us? While our culture no longer lives close to the land as in times past, still these seasonal rhythms call us to bloom. Have we responded? Have we moved further into the fullness of our being?

            

In Neil Gaiman’s darkly imaginative urban fantasy Neverwhere, Lord Portico is tutoring his young daughter in the family’s gift of coaxing any object~~doors, flowers, boxes, locks~~to open.“The most important thing for you to understand,” he tells her, “is this: all things want to open.”

Such wisdom in those words! There is a yearning within each of us to unfurl and to expand. This urge may be buried, but it is the longing of life itself and so is present wherever life is, including in the heart and soul of every human being. The Portico family’s skill was in seeking out this impulse and nurturing it into action. It is a skill we’d all do well to cultivate, for it promotes a rich experience of living.  

            

The Summer Solstice arrives in a mere 11days. And even though the hottest temperatures are still to come, the days will begin to shorten. Autumn is not so very far away, and it will again turn us toward winter. It is then that we will more clearly hear life’s other call, the desire to reflect and to rest, the yin to summer’s yang.

            

But for now, the season of growth is upon us. With summertime’s riotous activity offering a plethora of examples to light the way, it is time now to stretch. It is time to flower. 

But how do we do so? And how do we know which expression is calling us? It helps to begin by trusting Portico’s assurance. The ability to flourish is part of our apparatus as living beings. It is the dance we were designed for, and we need only listen for its melody. 

Ah, but there’s the rub. We modern humans don’t listen all that well. So first we must quiet ourselves in order to hear what calls. Receptive prayer, guided visualizations, an intuitive kind of art work that allows new possibilities to enter our awareness, exploring images and themes from our dreams…all these can offer hints. 

            

And then we choose our action. And we take that first step. And the next. And the one following. Such is the path of blossoming, each step a petal unfolding. And the season is ripe for it…and so are you. 

So bloom, dear one. Bloom! Bloom! Bloom! 

Leia

I’ll be facilitating an “intuitive kind of art work” event in Pueblo on the afternoon of Saturday, June 23rd. With the Summer Solstice just a few days past, we'll use guided meditation and collage to explore, clarify and nurture our intentions for this season of abundance. No experience or "artistic talent" is needed (really!), so please don't let shyness keep you away. The $40 cost will cover materials, though please feel free to bring anything you might like to include in your collage~~inspiring quotes, 3D items, and images that call to you from any source. For more information and to register, please contact me at fromthezafu@mac.com. And whether or not this is your cup o' tea, happy blooming, dear one!            

Refuse Nothing

In a poem entitled “Could You Embrace That?” the 13^thcentury theologian St. Thomas Aquinas begs to know God more deeply. God replies that this would be “a feat way beyond your courage and strength. You would run from me if I removed my mask.” Thomas persists, pleading that he wants to love God in “every aspect, every pore.” 

God then tells Thomas of “a hideous blemish on my body, though it is such an infinitesimal part of my Being~~could you kiss that if it were revealed?” Thomas promises to try. God then identifies the blemish as “all the hatred and cruelty in this world.”

Life’s harshness has been revealed a thousand times over. It is there in the news, experienced in our own lives and likely, if we look honestly, in our hearts as well. The question put to Thomas is, therefore, one for us all. 

Life is not all sunshine and roses. It’s not merely a bit challenging. Horrors exist. How do we live with that reality? Often we turn our eyes away, or seek to minimize or justify the oozing wound. Or we may focus instead on the very real beauty of the human spirit and of this world we inhabit. 

Yet a more advanced practice is to face the blemish directly, to gaze upon it…and to love it. Not easy, to be sure, but an exercise that brings many gifts. Certainly such a practice deepens our compassion. As voice and life coach Ariana Newcomer states, confronting callousness and cruelty also requires us to learn a “new level of forgiveness.” 

It may also call us to action, offering an opportunity to fully participate in life’s tumultuous arena, to make a stand for love…and to take that stand in love. For if our action comes out of the same “I’m right/you’re wrong, I’m good/you’re bad” divisive mindset, we have changed the underlying dynamic not a whit. No, if substantive change is our goal, we must act from love. What a task! 

On a morning walk last week, a large and strikingly beautiful hawk, white underwings marked with black, caught a thermal directly above me. The bird rose higher and higher, in ever expanding circles. Through its eyes, I saw the curvature of the Earth become visible, and the living things below took their place within a larger pattern.

Hawk vision teaches us not to try to escape darkness, but to seek always the greater design in which light and shadow each play their part in the intricate dance of life. The goal is to refuse nothing. With vision broad and perspective true, it becomes possible to love the whole tapestry. We can then engage the dance in our own unique way. 

Our steps may seem small and insignificant but, if taken in love, who knows what their effect might be?

Leia

The Seeker and the Sought

She is a startlingly beautiful child, hair dark as night, a mass of curls above an alabaster face, eyes a blue so deep they seem almost violet. It is those eyes that best tell her story. They won’t focus on her adoptive mother’s face. In fact, they actively refuse. Whenever her mother attempts to catch her gaze, this precious child turns her head away, immediately, decisively.

            

At 10 months of age, this little one has had a rough time of it. Born with drugs in her system, she was cared for by a random series of her teen parents’ friends before being placed in two foster homes prior to adoption. No wonder she refuses eye contact. She doesn’t know where she belongs and hasn’t yet recognized this woman as mother for life. 

And so Mom must be subtle. Catching her baby's gaze with a wiggling stuffed animal, she then brings the fuzzy bear to and from her own smiling face. Or Mom initiates a game of peekaboo. She sings from across the room, gradually moving closer until her baby signals she’s close enough. Mom does anything she can to entice her child into connection. 

            

Fast forward to my mediation this morning. My mind was busy, busy. And when my gaze did finally come to rest on the silence opening out before me, I soon turned away, thoughts swirling once again. I knew then how similar I am to that raven~haired adoptee. I don’t break contact as quickly as she, but break it I do. It’s as if I, too, can only take so much.

            

What is it about opening to the Mystery that we resist? Why do we so often avert our eyes from that which brings peace, from that which might even bring us the rapture of sweet communion? We seem prone to cluttering our lives with busyness and worries, tending to fill our days with pursuits that don’t truly engage or bring a rich experience of living.

            

But perhaps there are games designed for us, too, experiences reaching for our attention, wishing to coax us into a more soulful relationship with life. Lines from poetry, prose and sacred texts call to us. Life crises invite us to turn our gaze to a new, more nourishing direction. Kindred spirits appear out of nowhere, and at just the right time to speak to our heart. And of course, the star~drenched night sky is always waiting to draw us from our small concerns, offering a glimpse of numinous infinity…until we turn away again.

            

A cosmic game of peekaboo? The idea tickles me. Rumi writes, “What you seek is seeking you,” and while I haven’t come across his use of the peekaboo metaphor, I think he would approve. And perhaps even smile.

            

Lullabies sing to us from across the Universe. As I type these words, I hear a melody, sweet and clear. And I look up...

Leia

            

Being The Quiet

I want to be still. I want to let go of busyness, of planning, and of the pressures of my various to~do lists. I want to open to the silence that lies beyond and beneath all things. And I want it to consume me.

“Just sit there right now,” urges the 14 Century Persian poet Hafiz. “Don’t do a thing. For your separation from God, from Love, is the hardest work in this world.” Yes, that’s it. I want to give up the hard work of separation. I don’t so much want to disappear, as to soften or make more permeable that false barrier that seems often to surround me.

When one wakes in the predawn dark while the world still sleeps, the silence is profound. It runs deep, and seems to fill to overflowing every molecule of air and substance. At such times, the sacred is a palpable presence. The outer silence doesn’t last. The world awakens and resumes its steady chatter. Yet sacredness remains, flowing like an underground stream through the bustle of our days.

Drinking deeply of that stillness in times of quiet allows us to more clearly recognize the sacred when we’re once again swept away by the clatter of our lives. It also lets us engage with that clatter more effectively. A deadline to meet, a conflict with a loved one, cooking and cleaning and the other duties of life…a subtle shift occurs in all of these things when we engage them out of that larger awareness. Researchers across disciplines speak of the observer effect, noting that the act of monitoring an event can alter it in significant ways. How much more powerful, then, would be our conscious interactions? 

“Be the quiet place,” Sharon McErlane writes on netoflight.org. “Amidst the onslaught of trauma and drama, be the steady, quiet place. The center in the wheel of peace.” When we engage in life from that center point, even the most difficult situations can be altered. At the very least, our precious energy will not make them worse.

Interacting in this way is not always easy. Yet, as that wise man whispers to us from centuries past, keeping ourselves separate is uniquely burdensome and the hardest work of all. So we engage in whatever practices open us to the Infinite. And as we remember ourselves into the larger web, the barrier dissolves for a few moments. We can then return to our lives realigned and refreshed, better able to hold a steady peace, no matter the disturbance.

We don’t need to do it perfectly or always. We’re in this together, and so, can rely on one another. I can hold you as you flail about. And when I’ve again lost my way, you shall buoy me.

Over time, we all become more conscious, more aware. And gradually, we let go of the hardest work of all, as we open willingly, gratefully, to Love.

Love & Peace, my fellow travelers,

Leia

Breathing In, Breathing Out

I sit on my cushion, saguaro to my left, oleander on my right, with a palo verde tree’s delicate, green~hued branches arching above. It is that sweet time just before dawn when all still sleeps. The desert air chills my face, but with my shawl tucked around my legs and a blanket hugging my shoulders, I am warm.

My husband and I have come on retreat to the Sonoran Desert. Our temporary home is the teeniest of campgrounds just outside Saguaro National Park. As I sit in the predawn hush, my mind stills and I open to that which is greater than myself.

Except that my mind doesn’t stay still. It twists and turns, and my attempts at opening feel forced. I soon realize that, though I know better, I’m trying to recreate an experience of several mornings ago, when I woke about the same time, sat on this same burgundy cushion, and expanded delightfully beyond myself and my small concerns.

My journal entry from that day refers to the morning’s meditation and the “good start on my column” that came from it. Unfortunately, that “good start” was not put to paper, and has now exited my brain for parts unknown. Hence, the attempt to turn this meditation into that meditation, in hopes of finding that germ of a column again.

With my next inhalation of crisp desert air, I breathe in the awareness of how often I reject what is, as I grasp after what I’d like it to be. With the exhale comes an acceptance of this very human tendency and compassion for how, in resisting what is, we make our lives much harder than need be.

With that simple practice, one that spanned a single respiration cycle, I find I can more easily let go of reaching for what has already moved away from me, relaxing instead into what is here now.

This small technique has become a dear friend to me. When I’m conscious enough to let that friend guide me, whatever my reaction~~embarrassment, fear, anger, judgment~~I am able to breathe it in, just as it is, without prettying it up or justifying its occurrence. And I then breathe out compassion, for myself and for us all.

This morning’s meditation ended several hours ago. I’ve just laid under that green~barked tree, losing myself in the golden glow of branches lit by the afternoon sun, prayer flags fluttering in the breeze, blue skies beyond. I breathed in the sheer delight of doing nothing. And exhaled that joy into the web that cradles us all.

And through that web comes this wish for you, dear reader. Whatever weighs heavy on your heart, may you breathe it in, simply as it is, without embellishing or minimizing. May it remind you that you are one of us, a human being doing your very best.

And on the outbreath, may compassion flow, for yourself and for your fellow travelers through this world.

Much love,

Leia