Gratitude tea

[Recording located at end of post]

Did it really take almost 15 years for my prayer to be answered? And, can I trust it?

Those questions swirl. Yet, two days ago enroute to my shaman/pastoral counselor, I debated my session's focus, thinking that there is so much on my plate and wondering which is the right direction when IT hit: Oh, my God, I have so many possibilities right now in this moment and, instead of feeling overwhelmed as I have been, I realize it's because the fibromyalgia is not controlling my life. You are. It's been a long haul since I have had a direction beyond managing the chronic disease.

Tears rolled, the sweetness of joy and where I wish to remain. I don't want to begin to analyze and fall back into those old patterns that kept me hostage. I want to open, surrender and let Spirit in fully to work its magic in my life. 

I arrived with my eyes still wet when Gary offered me tea. He always gives me a choice and I wanted to ask for gratitude tea. While waiting for the water to boil, five cardinals – one a brilliant red – flitted about the feeder outside the kitchen window. Spotting a cardinal has always been Spirit's signal that I'm on the right course. In the massage room, when the incident in the car spilled off my heart, Gary chuckled at the idea of gratitude tea. As I explained re-telling it made me weepy, he responded "Tears are fine here, tears are good."

He knows those 15 years of this journey that, with him, began as I hobbled onto his massage table and lay in fetal position, thanks to a car accident, until his healing hands began to uncurl me. Back then, I thought of Gary as my massage therapist. I'm not certain he thought of himself as a shaman yet. Apparently our journeys have intertwined.

It took me a long time to spill those first tears.

Now, however, I am able to detach from that injured soul, dazed from the pain. Those years seem like a dream of someone else. Perhaps a lost inner child. The jolt of the accident pushed me to a new place, forcing me to turn inside and, eventually, confront myself, my weaknesses, fears and ego. Even my dense astrology reading a few weeks ago uncovered my ability to transcend the interior like Persephone,* and confront my shadow. This time, it had joined forces with the fibromylgia, beating me into submission, but never completely cutting me off from Spirit. 

I used to explain that my first encounter with centering prayer opened my heart like the aperture of a camera. That, at times, it would shift from narrow to wide, but never completely close. Right now, I feel it is wide open, letting sacred light in and showing shadow just who is in charge these days. God and after her, me!

Awakened is what I am. I confided in Gary that I feel like the – I hesitate to say old – me is back, that I am myself again. Only better, richer for having made this interior journey.

Along with surrender has come confidence. I belong in the world again. I am here for a reason beyond battling my demons, and can truly make a difference. God is first in my life, not the fibromyalgia or anything else.

Cheers from my cup of gratitude tea!

• When have I had a life-altering ah-ha moment?
• What spiritual or earthly help have I received in reaching that place?
• What did the joy and relief feel like?
• How do I express my gratitude?
• What happens when I truly put God first?


years of digging,
soul searching,
giving in and
giving up

Spirit never
left my side

not at my worst,
weariest, meanest
or most depressed

there was always
the glimmer
within

only now
do I see

and sip my
gratitude tea

Listen to this post:

Beautifully transformed

Listen to post:

Have you ever begun to feel awakened? Really awakened as if you've kind of been asleep in life. I am currently experiencing that sensation. I attribute it to sleeping better, feeling better, gaining more energy, being out in the world more, coming back into myself as my children gain some independence, planning for a new nurture studio, moving from winter to spring ...

In January, a wise nun whose counsel I sought after a powerful labyrinth experience suggested that, when we hit a stone in the dirt, our roots feel their way around, heading toward the source of water. Such a beautiful and apt metaphor. Dig those roots deep, she cautioned.

Sunday, while reading some last-minute passages for my "Comfort of Friends" group, which meets monthly to discuss death and being with the dying, I was again drawn down into the earth when Buddhist author Joan Halifax described the "transparent communion" of two souls in terms of a lotus. "The roots of the pure white lotus are buried deep in the pond's dark mud. But it's the very mud that nurtures and feeds the lotus, making it possible for the flower to open in splendor to the sun. The lotus flower is really our awakened mind, nourished by suffering."

She writes that though we may hide in "our cast-off and rotting selves," we are called to use the decay of suffering as food and energy to emerge back into the world. I believe she speaks, exactly, to my condition.

For 13-and-a-half-years my lotus has been latently laying in wonderfully rich muck, rising to the occasion at times, but never fully blooming. This spring, however, is different. Things are happening and not just internally. The dream of a space of my own, away from the house, is dancing toward reality, even supported by a grant. My faith community as a whole, not just my loyal base of close Friends, are with me, chomping at the bit to help me move, fix up the space, host an open house and get that open studio for under-served kids going. All while I am patiently still negotiating for the space.

The possibilities and potential are endlessly exciting. Like spotting the true light at the end of the tunnel and not the deflection of something unreal.

I want to roar forth and push this negotiating, but know from my time in the muck that I can wait; there's plenty to prepare. Besides, I have been assured that my path is paved with divine support. Back at the labyrinth weeks ago, I received this promise:

Let me in; I am always here
I will not give you more than
I am willing to assist. 

Go home, my child
and BE with this. 

Come to me often and
this will transpire. 

You will be transformed. 

Trust, Love, give
that's all.

I am transforming into the lotus.

• When Have I felt awakened?
• What was the necessity of my sleep?
• How have I strengthened by roots?
• How do I know when it's time to leave the safe muck and rise to the surface?
• What is God's promise to me?

at first, you just lay down
because there's nothing else to do


the trauma or circumstance has
killed you either severely at once
or, slowly, over time


either way,
you sink deep


and deeper and the rot
and darkness become
comfortable:
a new home


one much too easy to linger in


until the time comes and
there is no more hiding


you've been stripped bear,
then rebuilt and
ready to emerge
beautifully transformed