I go there, wherever there is to go

SMA Last view

An Ode to San Miguel de Allende, a small colonial mountain town in Mexico that was my home for ten months.

I am reminded that all things arise, and all things fall away; all things come, and all things go. I stand now at the exit, a door that was just before an entrance into a world foreign. No longer separated by language. I have traveled that I might arrive at sameness, that which transcends countries and cultures. I take with me in my going all that arose upon entering, all that birthed with time and authentic connection. It is hard saying goodbye. If I think but a second longer the tears will fall, flowing my face floorward. Instead, I pause and wait. I allow my breath to save me. I hold tightly salvation that it might suffice. We cannot be saved from life. It happens like breath until breathed no more. These are the feelings to be felt, that which comes and goes, and I am back there again at the start of the beginning where that which once connected must be let go into a release of birth. It is the only way, and I am learning always to give into the Way. So, I sit here listening to the sound of the voice flowing from a woman, words my ears capture yet do not fully understand. It is a metaphor for life. I am here fully immersed and yet know not all things. It is the unknown that leads me in the direction of forward. It is the way of the Way. It is the door through which I enter as I am leaving behind moments that make the memories I take with me there, wherever there is to go.

 

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We wait eyes closed for the answer

533443_10151320588782143_1613778847_n-e1506337423631It all comes down to now, to this moment inside of time where the unknown reveals itself that the knowing might be known. All things in time even when the time seems there outside of reach. We reach still that the extension of our arm be met with grace. May gratitude sustain us for the cup that runneth over to overflow where bounty shows itself atop the mountain. What of the view? What of the echo inside such vast expanse has us to believe that there are limits? Life remains always beyond-beyond, and beyond even that does life remain a well never to run dry; skin so supple it leaves us at ease when angst threatens to creep in. Breathe. It is there in the pauses that we hear. It is there in the quiet of no-sound that our intuition speaks, guiding us always to the Way. There are only opened doors before us even when the eyes through which we gaze ahead sees the uncertainty of dust unsettled. We wait. In time does it land there atop stillness and we see clearly what is: An entryway leading us always into the Yes.

 

 

 

 

*This image does not belong to me.

 

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Sanctuary Sunday: We can re-write our life-story

On this Sunday, I am sharing with you one of my Sanctuary Sunday videos. Sanctuary Sunday is a Youtube project I started at the beginning of this year where I upload weekly (on Sunday) videos about various aspects of life, from trusting the process to faith to re-writing our stories, and beyond. This episode is about the stories that we have been carrying and telling ourselves that no longer serve us or were never ours to begin with, but rather childhood baggage that was likely a hand-me-down from a key player in our lives.

Thank you for taking a moment, and feel free to share and or subscribe to my Youtube channel. 🙂

 

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It is never too late…

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We find our balance when we pause to see the way of our going. Life lived in perpetual motion is a life blinded by movement. We pause in order to steady ourselves. We steady ourselves in order to know more fully the path atop which we stand, and in the direction we face. Balance comes from our ability to pause, and we practice pausing through our breath. How deeply do we breathe when life keeps us there in the shallow end of our standing, each breath rising from the chest when the source is lower, deeper, deeper still? It is there in the pause that we come to know and to understand more fully the source within, that place where answers dwell and renewal has made a path clear enough to inhale deeply, and exhale the weight carried since the start of the beginning. It is all a practice. No single journey the way of the path or the path of the way for all. We stand at the start-middle-end of our own lives with eyes either willing or unwilling to see clearly what was, what is, and the step inside of now that may create what will be. All is unknown before it is known, and even then, in our knowing does change spring forth a face of uncertainty. Yet we have access to grace. Even in the grit-grime of muddied waters does grace rise to the surface of clarity reflecting our truth: We are whole. We lack no-thing. We rise to the occasion of our lives in each moment that we allow ourselves to pause, to quiet, to still, and to hear. This is the way of balance. This is the way of shedding the weight for the lightness of being. This is the way of releasing what was in order to be restored anew. It is all a choice in our choosing.

 

 

*Image: Elephant Journal

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You have answered me

suprabhatham___by_vinayan-da13emjI want only to be open; heart cracked wide enough to see clearly the way to you. It is a practice. Each moment a path before me leading me there to the center where the beginning begins. Anew. What of the way of my soul, how it longed again and again for time to tick forward toward yes? And now do I sit at the table surrounded by a bounty never before known, an abundance beyond my ability to comprehend, yet it is the fruit of my every intention. I sat long in the quiet with my body stilled in order to hear the way. I leaned in with such tilt that my feet nearly left the place of their standing. This is how I follow you. I go there in dark tunnels knowing the light exists in the cracks. I crawl, my hands and knees to earth that I might feel your birth, that I might experience the place of your origination. My desire is only to be nigh, and closer still until I taste from the same palate, swallow from the same mouth.

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Melancholy

fc96bb6ebd3914b6fff0a7b763254fd6At times the tears feel as though they are just behind my words. To speak but a murmur more is to open the door where the water waits to rush in. This is the way of life. This is the way of the heart as it opens ever-wide to embrace the fullness of the all, and it is the fullness that calls me. I drink from the fountain out of which it pours itself filling me to overflow. It is there in the overflow of my fullness that the words crowd each other, too afraid to move an inch in any direction where space may be created and water able to rise meeting its own level. No one seeks to drown. They huddle tightly until an exhale appears and release happens. The water can only be held inside the capacity of the one holding and my hands are too small to hide where vulnerability meets itself and the door behind which the water waits is opened. It comes rushing.

I am cleansed.

I am free.

I am loosed from that which held me and seemed to threaten me until I leaned in. It is when we lean into rather than turn away from that we feel life’s expanse and float atop the highest vibration where the current flows.

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You are…

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I.

I have loved you through lifetimes. Divine the way light wakes sleepers from dreams are you to the soul of me. I dance with you, even in the aloneness of my travels do I twirl under the moon with you. I see your face. I smell your scent and it leads me always into the opening of the doors before closed. Vast. All things vast inside the arms opened wide. Divine. All is divine, and I praise the name of the most high. Who is higher than the light? Who is vaster? Who is the way of the path when the way of the path takes me always by the hand and dances with me under skies bright? You are the way. You are the light. You are the breath of me breathing still, and I breathe.

II.

Have you listened to the music? Have you heard the voice of God whispering the way? I was there. I sat at the table just across from you and watched. The way of my voice is quiet, yet my soul speaks at an octave heard only underwater deep inside the seas of divers daring. I have fallen. I have fallen again and again each time a reminder that I am a fragile creature inside the embrace of the holy. See, God has breathed on me and that is the only way of my going. I go there that I might find you in my sleep. There in the dark of night have I walked. Who follows the light of the moon? Who follows the way into the unknown knowing that it is the only way of our going? It is the path of the light that we seek and search inside the standing of our being. This is it, and I am here sitting in the stillness with you, my reflection. You are, and you are, and you are still.

 

 

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When poetry is spoken

Sometimes I have those creative moments that ask to be spoken and not written. This is such a (fun) moment for me.

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A single wish

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They are large enough to hold us—God’s hands—supple enough to awaken inside the tender parts of our hearts. They beat, a single rhythm with a pulse keeping alive the All that is when God breathes. Here, this is my gift to you. It is the body from which I partake. Here, this is my gift to you. It is the blood from which you drink. Together we are the sustenance, la energía fluye como la sangre a través de nuestras venas. It is there from the essence of energy that we have birthed into form that a single life might be lived together. Oneness. It is your breath that I breathe. It is my breath that you carry like a book of parables, of Psalms, of Buddhist koans that reveal the deepest mysteries between us; that when read from your tongue unleashes the Magic as though the bottle has been rubbed and the genie granted us three wishes. In truth, I have only one: That you continue walking with me there into the mist of forever.

 

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In a past life have I loved you

people-prayer_1_origIt touches my heart. The right hand of God presses deeply into my soul that I might feel the pressure of Its essence moving through my body. It is an energy of potent subtlety, of a force of life that awakens me again and again to the overflow of love. I love you deeply, profoundly, and from that place within where deepness finds its footing there in the depths of wells leading to the center of the ocean where bounty dwells. I swim to find you. My eyes open always to the omens; my ears tuned in and leaning in the direction of God’s voice whispering the way, pointing to the place of your presence. I see you there in the quiet, legs folded full in lotus, arms open to receive. I recognize you in this time now from a life past. I have touched you before, taken your hand in my own and pulled you nigh. I have felt the beating of your heart, its rhythm in sync with my own. One pulse. One breath. One life. One eternity inside the timelessness of infinite time.

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