The lesson of balance

It was a journey getting into the studio today, but I am here now. I lingered in bed as the sub-zero temperatures pawed at our old-house windows. Usually, I'd be up at 6 on Tuesday and headed out the door, dropping the kids at the bus and depositing myself at the pool for a mile of laps. Just too damn cold, I told myself. They weren't going to school and I wasn't stepping out, no matter how bundled, at six below.

Seemingly out of nowhere, I snapped at Lily, my 13-year-old, as I was hastily gathering everything I needed to get here. She was trying to control what I was saying to myself as I mumbled the list of everyone else's needs I was tending to before I could get to mine. She was also in the midst of pushing me toward a house full of kids today. I dislike when the anger eeks out. It reminds me that I have unfinished business.

Interestingly, I was going to blog about retreat today; how I typically indulge in one in January and haven't yet this year. I was thinking that maybe I don't have to because I am taking a series of daily retreats, a slower pace this month that has filled my annual need for solitude and reflection.

Early this month, I'd been looking forward to a daylong retreat to let go of last year and look ahead to 2014. Sounded perfect for me and it was literally around the corner, five minutes away. And then a touch of the flu hit and dashed those plans. Generously, the retreat leader met with me last week to give me materials, talk through what transpired and encourage me to do the work on my own. We even set an appointment for a month so I could share this particular journey. Have I even opened the folder to begin? No

Have I regularly been spending time in centering prayer? No, I take three minutes with the reading, then move on because there is so much work awaiting me. Of course the Thomas Keating quotes are deep and worth savoring, I just can't devote the time I'd like.

And, I am certain, swimming would have burned off the emotions I hurled at Lily. I really want to learn what those bubbling emotions signal. They caught me off guard as I'd spent last night with close friends, receiving a massage from one and wonderful dinner from the other. I'd slept great and could relax into the massage this morning instead of pushing myself out of bed at the sound of the alarm. Honestly, though, I was disappointed by how achy I felt. My muscles and connective tissue had been unearthed, stretched, soothed and put to rest. I'd detoxed with herbal tea and lots of water, nixing the tempting red wine my companions were drinking.

I was out of kilter this morning. Kids off school, me off schedule with no exercise and I was racing to get to the studio to blog and spend some time in stillness. Not to mention the Artsy Fartsy postcards I need to send, the workshop news release that needs to get out, the expense report to file, the mission statement to revise, etc. Much as I dislike it, I have a daily regimen I must follow if I want to maintain some normalcy living with fibromyalgia. Sometimes that makes me angry. Why do I have to spend at least an hour or so exercising daily, another 20 minutes taking supplements and doing the Netti pot? Then eat an allergy-free breakfast and pack a similar lunch? And, where do I fit in a spiritual practice? Optimum centering prayer suggests 20 minutes twice a day. Seems like a dream while I have kids at home.

The world's ingrained message tells me to speed up and fit more in. Spirit says to step back, breath deep, recollect and actually be grateful that I know what I must do. That the emotions swirling and leaking out tell me I must retreat, recalibrate and set myself in right order for the coming year. For me, there are no short cuts.

• What happens if I get off rhythm, out of sync or off schedule?
• What role does regimen play in my life?
• What's the balance between physical, mental and spiritual?
• How do I retreat?
• How does that recalibrate me and makes things right with Spirit?


lured by mother
nature's violence

using it as an excuse
against daily discipline,
giving into the mind
at the expense of
body and spirit

when the froth of
anger is lodged
at another, an
innocent

how many times
must I learn the lesson
of balance?

Listen to this post:

Why do I resist?

Centering amidst the torrent, that's my present goal. Present being a key word.

Life right now is a challenge for many of us. Personally, mine is fraught with uncertainty, anxiety and a lack of clarity. I can hardly fathom my own plate, let alone everything else happening in the world.

Yet, somehow we must.

After floating with a spiritual practice, this torrent has pushed me toward daily centering prayer and a contemplative reading. It's so wonderfully opening that I wonder why, before, I felt as if it were a chore. I can carve out 20 minutes a day for this. I need to.

Even so, by mid-afternoon, I can begin to feel unglued and off-course like I did yesterday. So, I posted feeling so on Facebook, asking others how they center and the response was heartfelt and interesting:

• You get a hug from your husband 

• And then play candy crush to induce general lethargy. 

• Sit in stillness.... 

• Not easy but I think our spiritual centers, even though tested, are what gives us the strength to get through the difficult times. 

• I like to sit and think about all my good fortune in life.... health, family, love, job and how I have more on my plate that makes me happy than most people do. A LOT of people have life a lot more difficult than I do. I just try to be more thankful for the goodies that my life has in it. All the hard things seem to melt away. 

• Silent dwelling with God. 

 • Play at being with people that give you energy. Do some things that get you out of your head. I also lay prostrate on the floor and surrender everything to God. 

• It seems to me it is the work of life to create interior space big enough to hold my own struggle and the larger struggles of others, my own joy and the joys of others. Not diminishing other struggles and joys, and also not diminishing my own. So how do I find my center in that place of spaciousness? For me, there is an element of surrender, what I have is enough, even if what I have right now is hard. And that place of surrender comes in fits and starts and all in the truth that the center is God's goodness.

• Listen to whatever music makes you feel good. I recommend Paul McCartney's "Red Rose Speedway."

• Talk to God one-on-one, read His word, ask Him to show me the path He wants me to follow. Wait...and listen...

I have some pretty wise Facebook friends. They seem to focus on love, gratitude, stillness,  playfulness, creativity, prayer and surrender. ALL of those resonate with me.

As a result, before bed, I pulled out my notebook and made two lists. One for all that I was grateful that day and, the other, naming the things I was surrendering to God. And then I 
slept. Well.

This morning, I continued with the centering prayer and felt God's hands on my back, neck, head and shoulders as loving energy filled my body. Then Spirit, without words, nudged me to direct it to my mother at the Cleveland Clinic this morning completing testing before a double-heart-valve replacement later this month.

A trip to yoga and then, today, I am surrendering into the joy of preparing for a daylong 
retreat I lead tomorrow on naming gifts. Lucky, grateful me!


• How do I  keep my spiritual center when things are hard and take their toll?
• What role does trust play?
• What spiritual practices support that trust?
• What about prayer  and how does it change during these times?
• Where do I find God in all of this?


the words today,
as they have been
all week, were
just right

exactly what my
heart and head
needed to hear

something about
uncluttering the
space and coming
to Spirit with no
expectation,

simply being
there, open
and receiving

that's ALL
God ever asks

so, why do
I resist?

Listen to this post:

Nothingness of Love

I don't recall whether the first time I was sitting or laying, meditating in some fashion. Either way, my guide quietly arrived as if from nowhere and gently took my hand. I didn't question; there was no need. My instructions were wordless and did not originate in my brain. They were heartfelt.

We entered through the roots: thick, rich, deep and ancient. Through mud and silt, frothy loam and insects. This gnarled, substantive infrastructure had been planted eons ago and never budged, just hunkered down father reaching somewhere distant and unknown. 

Up we glided through spaces only crawl-able to a boundary-less elevator that, without seeming to move, whisked my guide and me up and past rows and rows of glistening hospital-like basinettes. Clean, but certainly not sterile. Protected, but not unapproachable. Millions of them, jammed inside this tree trunk, with an exterior I could only imagine. As we rose, the tree grew thinner, so slender I was certain we were headed for oblivion. Then we stopped, exited and I was directed to one specific, unmarked cradle. In fact all of the beds were unmarked and unattended. Something told me there were well tended though. 

Some being, the only other besides me and my guide, reached in and down, picked up a blanket bundle and handed it to me, motioning me to open it. A gift, I assumed. I was too stunned to open it initially, but, sans words, knew I must. Gingerly, I peeled back the cloth layers and almost dropped the package. It was like nothing I had ever seen: a primal embryo, shining. At first glance, I was repulsed. I had expected a human infant, my ridiculously human response. 

Yet, as I held this entity, a deep understanding swelled in me – one of those brief and rare glimmers of Truth. I was being handed my own soul, unmarked in all of its naked beauty, oozing only love. This was me! And I had been given a precious journey inside the tree of life.

Today, the second incident arrived during centering prayer, bursting in with no guide. I was in the tree again, rising toward the top with no memory of entering through the roots. Just plopped there, rising higher and higher as the tree grew narrower and, eventually into a thin line, the line graying to nothing.

Nothing. That's the beginning and end. The place of Spirit, our birthplace. It is the nothingness of love. The higher up one travels within the tree, the less formed the beings in basinettes become. The less formed they are, the more pure they are as they approach the Nothingness of Love. This is our origin. The nothingness is magical and like the ether, ether[ial]. Not even a place, but a way void of emotion and thinking. This Nothingness of Love is pure being.

I'm not sure how or why I arrived here, just grateful that I did. I had a poolside conversation earlier about how our only purpose in life is to love and life is not about reacting, but responding ... responding in love. An hour-and-a-half later, I opened my "Daily Reader for Contemplative Living" with: 

Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.                     – Mark 12:30

Yes, I agreed during centering prayer, I do love you with all of my heart and soul. Please, teach me how to do so with my mind, which wanders and worries, and with all of my strength – what does that even mean? I had used the word love as my entrance to prayer today. And, without warning, I was inside the tree, again.

• What is my understanding of love?
• Of God's love?
• Of human love?
• Self love?
• What do I believe is the origin of love?


in the torrent
of life 

all of its
demands and
imperfection

my friend
recognizes
a swirling 
pool, where
she is thrashing

also the
shore above

and the
opportunity
to pull herself
out

Listen to this post:

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: