Morning Meditation™️ - Unique Pause

Morning meditation™️. Meditation & prayer work best when we focus and dwell in the unique pause of that moment. ✨

#HealingMorning™️  #MorningMeditation™️  #UniquePause

Otter Chronicles™️ At Healing Morning™️ - Snow Cream vs Snow Wallow

Southern Otter Chronicles™️. A relaxing snow wallow vs the delights of snow cream? Snow cream wins, paws down, y’all!  🍨 🦦 ❄️

#HealingMorning™️  #SouthernOtterChronicles™️  #SnowCreamSeason

Morning Meditation™️ - Soft Gray Days

 

Morning meditation™️. My enjoyment of soft, gray days is constant, regardless if others find it quirky. ✨

#HealingMorning™️  #MorningMeditation™️  #SoftGrayDays

Morning Meditation™️

Morning meditation™️. Occasionally, a past quote card crops up & clicks for me in every manner imaginable. This is one of those - I love everything about it! ✨

#HealingMorning™️  #MorningMeditationArchives™️  #VitaminSky  #SimplePleasures

 

Unwritten

The quote here is a snippet of lyrics from Natasha Bedingfield's "Unwritten".  I think this song resonates with so many because we're always on the brink of something new, and we never know where each day, each moment will lead us.

For me, some significant changes have happened recently that have left me with a lack of certainty about the future.  This isn't a bad thing, mind you....it's simply a departure from what I am accustomed to.  Normally, I am focused, driven, and usually have a clear vision for where I am headed, and what I want from life.  I tend to always have something I am studying - a personal interest, or a business-related course, or something of historical focus. I have always enjoyed learning, and it helps me to balance my life with enriching my knowledge base and indulging my endlessly curious mind.

Right now, however, nothing is on my personal horizon in that regard. Nothing is capturing my interest, nothing is exciting me or lighting a fire in my heart to engage and learn. Two long held dreams - big ones - have become decidedly uninspiring, and that has surprised me. It doesn't necessarily mean those two big dreams have died; I don't know what it means, to be honest. All I know is that the drive to achieve them has waned for the now.

So, here I am, with my life ahead of me, waiting for something to spark, to grab, to enliven.

Many years ago, I worked for a large corporation where part of my duties involved writing a quarterly newsletter.  This was not a small feat, as the corporation was an international one with satellite offices domestically and across several countries. The newsletter was always highly anticipated by those offices, with a great deal of enthusiastic feedback.  That positive feedback was both encouraging and a bit onerous, as it created constant expectations to top each previous newsletter edition.  I would get the current edition finalized and sent out, and immediately begin working on the next edition.

The blank pages of the newsletter template would loom at me on my computer's screen, and I would always have thoughts of, "How am I going to fill this up again?  How am I going to make this edition better than the last?  How will there be enough time in this quarter to meet the deadline and still deliver interesting, valuable content?"

As the days passed, bits and pieces would always materialize. Conversations with co-workers would lead to requesting an interview with someone.  Research on a current project would prompt me to dig deeper and that research would produce an interesting fact for the newsletter. Happy moments such as anniversaries, weddings, babies being born, graduations, human interest stories, etc., were always plugged into the pages.  And almost every single quarter, before I knew it, the newsletter would be full to the brim with articles, news, facts, and images.  I usually would have so much content, it would spill over to be utilized for the following quarter's edition. Still, with each new, empty template to fill, the doubts were always there in the back of my mind.

Life is quite similar to a publication in the works.  As Ms. Bedingfield's song lyrics indicate, we are books, unwritten.

I am a methodical person, and am accustomed to being in control of my life. Coming to such a large space of unknowing is a curious feeling for me. It isn't scary.  It isn't alarming.  It's different. Not quite uncomfortable, but certainly discomfort is there.

Discomfort is a clear harbinger that change, that increase, that a great big amount of new, is on the horizon.  That can cause the mind chatter to begin dancing a jig, dripping gleeful bits of concern, wariness, anxiety, mistrust, and all manner of negative emotions designed to stop us in our tracks.

When those emotions crop up, I remind myself of the old days of writing that quarterly newsletter.  Those questions and doubts would pop up throughout each quarter as I worked on the newsletter.  I learned to brush them aside and keep moving through the process.

So, here I am, with blank pages. Even writing this article here feels inadequate, lacking in the normal flowing, musical ease with which I generally create.  When I mentor writing students, my advice to them is always, "Just write. The questions will be answered as long as you engage in the process." Taking my own advice has me here at my laptop, waiting for the questions to be answered.

Will they be answered?  Of course they will.  It might not be as I expect the movie in my mind to play out; that's the one true certainty in the mix.  Indeed, life rarely plays out as we imagine in our mind's eye, and often that is a blessing. 

Sometimes, engaging the process doesn't mean anything earthshaking. Sometimes, it simply means to keep breathing. Keep living. Keep being who we are, whilst also being open to change. From moment to moment, who we are changes on a cellular level, so you would think embracing myriad changes in the corporeal world would be just as seamless.  Obviously, it isn't! Change is something that tends to instill resistance for the best of us.

Personally, I don't have time for the fears, the doubts, and most of all, I do not have time for embracing resistance.  Part of this whole dynamic stems from releasing a presence that luxuriated in embracing resistance, in dragging of feet, in avoiding feeling emotions, in postponing living in the now. It is a genuine, simple fact that all we have is now, this moment.  We're all aware of this truth, that tomorrow is not promised....the next breath, the next smile, the next sunset.....it could all be final. 

I have a life to live....pages to fill with experiences.  I do not have a single clue where tomorrow leads me. I do not have a single clue what all the new will bring. It is currently unwritten, but I do have the book open, blank page pristine, pen in hand to give it expression.  I expect it to be glorious. 

Rainbows drip endless tears

photo:  nxe.weebly.com

The day is close.  Heavy air too damp and hot for this early in summer, and I think inside myself that it is a curious note.  Springtime in East Tennessee this year was glorious, a true spring such as we haven't experienced in many years.  It took me back to childhood memories where everything was an explosion of color, flowers, peaceful wooded hills and ready hugs from every adult around me.

Yet here we are, on the heels of that glorious spring, experiencing a brutal beginning to summer.  The brutality is mirrored in horrific moments in my country.  A beautiful, talented young woman was murdered in the state of Florida, in a senseless act as she pursued her musical dreams. 

A day later, in the same state of Florida, a nightmare attack took the lives of 49 people who were enjoying an evening in a nightclub. 49 deaths are reported, and I fear the number will increase in coming days. 

The thoughts that run through my mind in the wake of these violent actions are tangible, etching the moist air around me with ragged edges.  They hang there, aloft, sad and forlorn, as I picture the people who await news of their loved ones....praying, I am certain, to hear that loved one's voice, alive and vital.

Yet we already know the ones slain are still there in that nightclub, quiet and still, surrounded by crime scene tape and endless media trucks.

Moments of beauty are flourishing, small blooms of hope around the world.  There in Florida, a line of over 600 people wait to donate blood and I think that they are the best of my country, rushing to do this one small thing in the face of such devastating carnage. 

The people in that nightclub were slain, to the best of what we know, because they were of the LGBTQ community - different, beautifully so, and proud, choosing to embrace their true selves and come together for an evening of music, dancing and entertainment.  Hateful indications began instantly, words of terrorism, focus on gun control political agendas all ran rampant and continue today, and those focuses will have no further space here. 

Now, as the hours roll forward, on social media there are countless expressions of condolence, sympathy and support for those affected, for those slain, for those mourning, and these expressions are happening around the world.  Rainbow flags are everywhere. 

And here I sit on the steps of my patio with my laptop on my knees, breathing in this heavy, damp day, the heat searing my lungs. 

The thoughts crash from my fingertips, yet make no sound on the page. I feel the need to hurl them outward, allowing them to fly high in the sky and fracture, so that they might rain back down in bright, beautiful colors of each of the souls taken from us so unfairly.  

Rainbow colors, they would be.  Of course they would. 

Perhaps in another reality, one we can't see with our human eyes, they are hale and whole, watching us as we scramble to understand, to absorb and accept.  I believe this to be true, and I am confident and sure that the overwhelming amount of prayer and love being focused for all of them has taken them through their unexpected transition swiftly and smoothly, lifting them quickly to that next destination.

My own recent struggles pale in comparison to what has happened in Florida.  I feel a sense of drift and inadequacy, because those issues exist and are quite valid in my heart, but I haven't lost a loved one to wrenching, cold, cruel murder.  All I am able to do is sit here in the waning summer fire of a June Sunday, smelling the green of freshly cut grass, hearing the droning of fat honeybees drunk on nectar from nearby flowers.  I am here, writing and pausing, sheltering my eyes from the sinking sun, tapping out words on a screen that cannot reflect the enormity of what this weekend has wrought.

Rainbows.  Normally, a rainbow comes after a storm, bringing smiles and delight.

  Today, rainbows drip endless tears. 

And the world mourns. 

...of all that is...

photo:  www.wenelo.com

In this month of April 2016, I see 2015 as a curious year.  As I look back on it now, I feel a sense of distance that goes beyond the linear mark.  I don't know if that is true detachment, or if it is a shell of self-preservation.  Only time will tell with that.

I lost a large number of people extremely close to me in 2015. Death was not particular about those chosen, taking both family and dear, life long friends in high numbers.  Looking back on that aspect of 2015, I am stunned at the list of those who transitioned, and I am equally stunned that I weathered that many losses and managed to keep hold of equanimity, acceptance and sanity. 

Of course, loss of sanity always surrounds us in the immediacy of loss through physical death, and I am not ashamed to admit that I had many dark nights of the soul because of those losses.

On the other end of the spectrum, I had triumphs.  I experienced love.  I shared my heart with sincerity and honesty, offering my deepest, truest self.  For some moments, that part of me was met and embraced, and I can look back on those moments with clear eyes that see shining beauty.

I stumbled many times, with repercussions of a most recent set of stumbles still playing out.  I am unsure of the direction those unexpected, haphazard, shocking, sometimes ripping and hurtful experiences will take me.

The only thing that I know at this moment is that I am learning and growing as a result.  I am continuing to take the next breath. That is all any of us can do when we absorb the stunning impact of disappointment and betrayal - we take that next step, breathe that next breath, and repeat the process in a numbed state until we are able to tentatively begin settling back inside ourselves.  Back inside from where we flew off and established that state of protection and detachment.

Perhaps that is actually what is happening.  I am settling back inside myself, reacquainting, realigning, reassembling, building and stitching together the old with what I brought back from the outside, from the distance and the quiet.

I often think that what we view as coming undone is the real making of us, because it forces us to release all those pieces of detritus that had been slowing us down, had been holding us back, had been slowly dulling our brilliance.

What prompted this article when it has been such a long time since I have written here?  I was busy the other day, in the midst of networking and focusing on career issues, and a random thought crossed my mind.  A question jumped from those thoughts, and I picked up my cell phone to call a dear friend.  Because I was doing so many things at once, juggling so many proverbial balls, I got all the way through scrolling through my contacts and clicking through to dial that phone number before reality slapped me sideways.  I remembered in a crashing rush that that friend is gone.  He died in September of 2015.

The inevitable avalanche of emotions flowed.  I went through a miniature version of the grief process, shed some tears, rode the wave of colorful memories that had me laughing along with the tears, because this friend always, always made me laugh.  And I pondered this life I'm living.  I pondered the curious process we live here on this Earth School.

I came up with no bright, unique answers.  No startling discoveries have hit my personal horizon. I find that the older I get, the more liquid becomes the process of accepting death, and of accepting change.  When I was wee, life was very finite and defined.  Black and white.  With age comes new perspective and perception, and all those infinite shades of gray.

I have no idea what the year of 2016 will bring for me, even as I sit here well into the fourth month of this year.  What I do know is that 2015 underscored in a dramatic fashion what we all know, and that is that nothing is promised to each of us.  Tomorrow is not promised.  The next moment is not promised, nor is the next breath.

In the span of all that is, each life lived on this planet is akin to the blink of an eye.  

We are such a brief expression of love and energy in physical form, it is another curious moment for me to ponder why we waste so much time.  We get bogged down in so many fears and doubts.  I have allowed myself to become entangled in my own fears and doubts, and I have participated and engaged in fears and doubts of those closest to me.  From that engagement, I have stumbled.  As I am regaining my balance from those stumbles, the clarity gained is of a quiet tone.  In that quiet, I am studying and processing, and making decisions.

I am aware of what I will no longer entertain.  I am aware of what I will no longer indulge.  I am cognizant in a manner that I have not experienced in a great while.  I am aware of promises that I made to myself ages ago, promises which have patiently waited for me to pick them up and breathe life into them....breathe life into ME.

This all sounds so ponderous and dramatic, yes?  In some ways, perhaps it is, but another curious note is that these shifts and realizations haven't hit with thundering impact.  They have slipped in gently, with very little fanfare.  Layers of myself have surrendered to being pared away, lifted up to the winds that swirl around only me, separating me from the old, and brushing, whispering change across my face....across my soul.  I have turned, eyes closed, a slowly spinning dance of release.

In that span of all that is, that which we label Infinity, here I am....expressing all that I am.  Doing my humble, human best to radiate Love outward.  Brushing fingertips with those of you who visit here, our eyes locking for a glance, our hearts marching to an identical rhythm for an instant.  And as the quote above offers....

....and in that moment, I swear....

WE WERE INFINITE....

For now, this knowing, this acceptance of NOT knowing....it is enough.