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.
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.
