Lean love

Who am I? How often do you ask yourself that question? On some level, I think I am constantly seeking the answer. I don't want a reflection of who I am, I want the Truth, the naked Truth.

Today's answer isn't so very pretty. It's one of the rare days I can't shake the blues of chronic pain and one more symptom to handle. Vertigo has decided it's time to call again on top of all of my other house guests: poor sleep, stuffy nose, headache, sinus pressure, neck ache, shoulder and hip pain, tight jaw, and constipation. I have a daily regimen of supplements, netti-pot, exercise and food intolerances to handle. I am grateful that they have worked all summer. Until the hammer of stress came crashing down as it does periodically on all of us. And I kept pushing through.

That mess of annoyances is about all that I can see. My pattern is to retreat, where it takes less energy to survive until symptoms recede. But I don't think that's the healthiest route. It seems one of the patterns I need to break. Last week, I spent a good deal of time pouring over some astrology interpretations from the amazing monthly group I attend under the guidance of my spiritual friend, Char. In this space, I have been able to delve deeper into who I am, or am meant to be, and look beyond the drive-me-crazy symptoms. According to the stars (and planets and their interactions), I have been blessed with many gifts and the means to use them. I am, they say and I know myself, a late bloomer. I married later, had my kids older and still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. I also must follow my own path, which  includes a lot of excavation. I joyously e-mailed Char Monday that I had meticulously gone through all of the material and how happy it made me, how affirming and confirming it had been.

So what's changed in a a day or two? Nothing that I haven't already dealt with the past 16 years. Shortly after I began this post, I looked up, frustrated. I didn't want to whine or be in that self-pitying place. The large signing dangling from my studio ceiling saying "Take a Break" was the first thing that came into focus as I adjusted my eyes away from the computer screen.

I get it, I thought. I doubt the instructions could be any clearer. I quickly Googled what movies were playing and opted to forgo unproductiveness and truly take a break. I settled on the "100 Foot Journey" with Helen Mirren. I'd selected the book a year ago for book club and was thoroughly delighted and entertained ... to the point I'd forgotten it was fiction. In my rushing to the car to make the show, a van driver flagged me down, lost. I drove her to the highway, stopped home briefly and was on my way, arriving ahead of the previews. What wasn't to like: food, France and Indian culture. The scenes shot in Paris brought tears of gratitude for the trip we had as a family this summer. "God, you have been so very good to me," I said silently. I didn't add the "but why am I always struggling" as I had earlier.

One of the things I have been learning about myself by studying my natal chart is that I need to periodically treat myself and take breaks. I tend to push through and deny myself. I've been pushing ... all summer. From a wonderful vacation at the beginning (that I completely planned from scratch, which I love but can be stress-inducing), to balancing kids home and more outside work, some stinging upsets (learning I must relocate my studio and Artsy Fartsy and that I missed a major grant deadline), getting my girls off to school while my husband was out of town (I honestly don't know how single parents do it) and settling my oldest into college courses this week as part of the post secondary enrollment options program. Did I mention we have also have a new driver? 

It is just life, dished out to us all. I live it hard, forgetting to breathe and, often, to enjoy. One of my recent astrology lessons is to let life flow through me. I wonder what that looks like, exactly. Here are a few of the other lessons I am cultivating:
• To live out of abundance, confidence and trust;
• To follow my dreams and truth;
• To let go of fear;
• That boundaries are necessary, barriers are not.
• To bring the past forward;
• That my security in life rests in Spirit.
• To put power and energy into intention.
• That healing requires pruning the excess;
• To rely on my (inner) resources and that looking within gives me the most clarity;
• That's is ok to risk and create new structures to replace what isn't working any more.

I am calling all of this lean love and am thinking that I used a little of that on myself today by going to the movie instead of wallowing in my studio. Hooray for me – I AM learning.

• What's my gut reaction to stress?
• What are my go-to patterns?
• What patterns must I seek to change?
• Where do I find Spirit in the mess of life?
• What lessons about living and loving am I learning?

allowing myself
the luxury
of half
the workout

grateful
breast stroke
didn't induce
vertigo

racing around
to drop my daughter
at school even
though my husband
offered

why? I now
wonder

finding the grace
to take a few hours
off, dreaming of
France and food

sneaking in a grocery
trip, attempting
dinner, an aborted
bank stop and
getting my daughter to
her first night
class on time

when, again
my husband
offered

why, God,
do I insist 
on killing myself?

Listen to this post:

Soothing the soul nerves

[Recording located at end of post]

Anxiety and anger: What's the difference? What's the connection. Seems like an odd thing to be on my mind in the midst of success with my Artsy Fartsy arts' exploration for at-risk kids and recent word that the program has received another modest grant from a BIG source.

And yet I find it so. Haven't we all found ourselves in the middle of utter bliss when something gnaws at us. A recent astrology reading, my first, with a credible source, may have prompted it for me. Or , perhaps, I am ready to take this on right now, open and trusting because of the flow of grace in my life. The author, astrologist and Jungian expert with a Ph.D from Yale had a few things to reveal about the topics. I wonder what of these may speak to you as well:

Specifically anxiety:
• You have a golden understanding of the nature of the physical body, the mind and emotions and an emotional connection now called psycho-neuro immunology or soul nerves. [This may be what I am trying to unearth in this post.]
• You experience issues with nerves and chronic illness, but not forever, and enjoy ways to rejuvenate. 
• You have lots of nervous energy you must let go.
• Trouble sleeping is caused by not venting your energy enough; it builds if not expressed or blocked.

• When ambient anxiety shows up, it means the mind-body-spirit connection is not working together.

• Swimming (for me, it may be something else for you) burns off nervous energy; you can not underdo physical activity.

Specifically anger:
• Appreciate your anger as assertiveness. Don't REpress it, EXpress it inappropriately, but CONfess it in journals or with a resonator, someone who can hear and hold those feelings.
• Illness arises out of anger that turns around and affects the nerves; if things fester, health problems show up.

The connection/disease:
• Soul is asking you to understand the inner urges and not over do in your life; you can be too demanding of yourself; there are positive ways to deal with it so it doesn't manifest as disease.

• Getting to the root of the problem is required for healing

• When you hear the negative animus, the voice of judgment, it means you given up too much; ask others to pick up the burden.
• Your have a propensity for making mountains out of mole hills: be aware that it's just your nature.

Torn between the two emotions today, I began writing out a prayer, understanding that the anxiety that has bruised my sleep the past few nights is unexpressed anger. That is after I swam a mile to burn some of it off. I ranted and raved at God to let off steam, read it out loud, screamed and began to simmer down. To release and be ready to listen and understand what's happening. Apparently my soul nerves had had enough input and needed output before they exploded.

I think I am teaching myself that it's ok to express these feelings as confession. I only learned repression, possibly because I crave serenity and harmony in my life. I would cower in the dark, quiet basement when, at 16, my twin sister, would argue with my parents. So, I stuffed some of the anger in. That was also a year I struggled with IBS. Hum? I am now finding creative ways to unplug years of eating my anger.

Personally, I see the anxiety-anger connection as a barometer. If I am anxious, then something obviously is pent up. Pretty often I believe it's anger. Several years ago I decorated a black-and-white speckled composition book with a giant M, creating my mad journal. So this isn't all new to me. God has slowly been opening me to my disease. I need it in small chunks at the right time, otherwise, it's just lost on me.

I believe the astrology reading and its lessons came at the appropriate time, as well.

So now that I'm pretty well over my madness and anxiety, I am beginning to realize valuable lessons and that Spirit has been beside me all along this roller-coaster ride called life. Thank heavens!

• How does anxiety show up in my life?
• How does anger?
• What connection is there for me?
• What lessons can I learn?
• How do I see Spirit's imprint in all of this?


awakened and
anxious
again

racing to the
pool to swim
it off

much of it
dissapates,
not all

so I sit,
light a candle
and babble

on and on
in my journal
to God

when things
lift and
shift,

trading loneliness
for lightness
and lessons

finding my
soul nerves
soothed

and me,
smiling my
gratitude

Listen to this post:

Occupied by Spirit

[Recording located at end of post]

Sunday’s formal message in worship focused on how to center, as Quakers say, meaning to sink deep into listening for Spirit. I am certain it was prompted by a conversation the week before among a lively group of experienced worshippers and newcomers trying to figure it out. It was a blessing and reminded me that it had once been difficult for me, too.

Something had primed me for Sunday and it took no time to slide in to that space where I heard the minister’s words, they registered, but I could smile and know I was somewhere else. A breathy giggle arose when the minster talked about being “occupied by spirit.” I already was – gratefully.

A three-hour astrological reading Friday, I am certain, prepped me for the hour of worship. That may sound like heresy, but it’s not. The female voice on the other end of the line holds a Ph.D from Yale; she’s no quack. I’m still combing through the 50 pages of notes, assimilating and responding. Recorded disks will arrive shortly, but I can’t wait. Basically, she confirmed my spiritual connection, intuition and ability to transcend my interior. That’s why worship comes easily. A dozen years of practice also doesn’t hurt.

One of my gifts, I have sensed and the astrologer confirmed, is having these experiences and being able to communicate them.

I understand there are as many ways to respond to God as there are individuals, so I don’t claim mine is the path for everyone. But, at least, I have the ability to explain how I center. I have also meditated and it is far more than that. It is an emptying, but also a refilling of Spirit. For me meditation always stopped short of that. Here’s my method:

Closing my eyes, I visualize that I ampeeling back the layers of my heart, one by one,clearing away distraction and thought.Think of peeling thin, fragile and translucentonion skins, attempting to reach the core.Following my breath, I let it plug my braininto my heart instead of the opposite,
as when I am conscious in regular, livingmode. I imagine a place in the back of my heart,a rather secret compartment, between myshoulder blades. When I reach it, I shudderwith a particular sensation, unlike any other …a kind of healing that carries a sharpness, an alertness,so I am not quite melting into it. There is a fine distinctionbetween it and surrender.  Untapped energy resides here,lulling me into a relaxed attentiveness of being completelyhere, but  also aware of what’s transpiring around me.It resembles that state between dreaming and waking.I can listen, but be deeply present. It’s a restorative place,
much like laying my head in Spirit’s lap as I do incentering prayer. To arrive in this spot, I must
intuitively feel my way in, locate the back door,the one behind my heart and empty myself, surrendermyself. That means quieting my brain, letting it rest, sothat my soul arises to meet God within.

Oh, and when I can do this, REALLY do this (well, when grace is at work), I am so at peace, feeling the bliss, the unity of love. This is a wonderful state. On occasion, there is more as there was Sunday. I am transported back to an ancient, timeless realm.  Images arise, mostly fragments and flashes, a sort of message that will take some time to assimilate. I had four of those:

• A small group of shepherds or gatherers, crouched together under cloaks inside the mouth of a cave, waiting.

• A view of a very large and powerful white bird, its talons shackled, breaking free and ascending.

• Two weathered stone tablets broken apart with symbols or numbers and an inked heart torn at the break, half resting on each tablet.

• A folk icon of Jesus, crudely rendered, laying on its side on a piece of wood with wings, floating away.

When I quickly sketched these images on a church bulletin, the mouth of the cave became the thumb and index fingers forming the opening with the wrist and hand extending back. A rough translation, which means nothing to me right now is:

people are waiting in God’s hands, as spirit is freed, the secret of the heart revealed as the image of Jesus is no longer needed. I sense a freeing spiritual energy that’s not slave to tradition.

Hummm…..

• How do I worship?

• What methods do I use to listen to God?

• What helps me center?

• Can I find where God resides within?

• How has practice helped?

 Listen to this post:

Strength of a rose[ie]

Lonely heart/pastel & paint on paper

Listen to post:

For days in yoga, I keep hearing a haunting song [see link below] as we’re ending practice and entering shavasana. It’s a real song the teacher spins on the dvd player.

These lines, in particular, echo deep within:

            “And it’s happening to me and you …
 

           … Where we’re bound nobody knows ..."

The subject is our wildness, to me, the terrain of the heart. It’s such a wonderful transition from the activity of poses to the coolness, winding down and turning inward of relaxation. And even though I have heard that song at least a dozen times, it always catches me … in knowing. It helped me remember something I wrote as a pre-teen, about the age of my youngest daughter. I penned these lines:

            “I am bound where no man goes.”

It was a somber piece about living in isolation, then I translated it as the Steppes of Siberia. I am coming to understand it was about my wrestling with growing up, keeping part of myself and letting others go.

A month ago, while deep in pastoral counseling, my shaman asked me to remember/visualize when I first felt less than. The image of a pre-teen girl in a fetal position immediately flashed in my mind. It quickly shifted from me to my youngest daughter and my heart sank. I know she is in the same place. Shunning the physical, psychological and emotional changes stirring. My heart aches for her as it does my inner pre-teen: the one lost, confused and feeling isolated.

This week in my monthly archetypal-astrology group, we discussed the drama of opposites with regard to astrological aspects, the angular relationships between the planets, and from a Jungian perspective. A handout carefully prepared by our teacher, discussed that “ego development requires that we reject even essential parts of what makes us whole; and this is what becomes the shadow … the road to wholeness is rough and bumpy … but we continually seek that which we have unconsciously discarded.”

I wonder what I discarded in that fetal position as a pre-teen and what my daughter intends to shed?

Two nights ago, I had an interesting dream; I haven’t remembered dreaming in months:

My twin sister and I are on a train. I fall asleep and awake in a car with her driving. I feel as if I have been drugged. She acts as if all is normal. We stop and I notice one of my daughters, some female cousins and nieces a half block behind us milling around another car. My sister directs me into a store, where we encounter my mother haggling with a woman about a cabin reservation. My mother insists she bought the cabin across the creek behind the store. The woman says she doesn’t even have a reservation.

When I first looked at this dream, I felt betrayed, as if my family tricked me into this journey. But when I explored it again, it seems as if this line of living women in my family is waiting to cross the creek into the cabin of the ancestral women who have come before. The ones waiting at the car are, well, waiting. My mother has tried and my sister has brought me here. I think it’s my turn, my work. I notice my other sister who has a son is absent as is my youngest. They aren’t part of this yet. I believe that my sleeping on the train is a key to how to get past the gatekeeper/shop owner, cross the creek and get us into the cabin.

To do so, I must traverse the terrain of the heart and retrieve my discarded parts. The song “Strength of a Rose” by Deva and Miten Premal describes that journey. Rose is my maiden name; Rosie is my nickname.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QuoQQsHUmZE  

• How have I experienced the terrain of my heart?

• When have I felt isolated?

• What parts of myself have I discarded?

• When have I also felt connected?

• What is my current calling toward wholeness?