morning's whirlwind

Focusing on breath, yet finding I scarcely have time to breathe.
Listening to the cat's purr - wishing I could be so content.
From where has this whirlwind of my mind come? How can I make it stop?
I've typed over a thousand words this morning. Breathed a dozen cleansing breaths.
Started and stopped and still...
the tornado of ideas and creations and concerns whirls through my mind,
creating it's own wind tunnel of chaos.

Yesterday, I walked in the wind. I felt Spring's air upon my bare legs -
my skirt floating on the breeze of God and the steps of my desire.
I watched the newly bursting lilac blooms nod to me as I passed by.
A floating kite appeared in the sky, its imaginary string held in my palm.
I paused and naughtily picked a dandelion puff and blew the seeds into the wind,
(being mindful, of course, to avoid the neatly manicured lawn along my path.)

Wind. Breath of God. Ruach.
I write and I recall those moments of bliss,
and in the recollection, I am once again - if only for a moment-
Present.

photo circa 1997 © h3 images - artwork currently on display here and here.

What We Already Know

Did I ever tell you about my Hawaiian labyrinth experience? Perhaps not because it kind of fits into one of those categories of inexplicable. It was a journey even getting there. Recommended by my friend and fellow spiritual director, Mary Ellen, we (six adult family members) were on a mission to find the Sacred Gardens in Maui. (In reality, my sister and I were on the mission - the rest were more or less agreeable to join in the adventure.)

Upon arriving at the gardens, we were greeted by their giant guardian angel, Bodie. His joyful presence occupied the dog lovers with 150 pounds of slobbering puppy love. The gardens, book store and two labyrinths nestled into the center of this tropical island were entertainment enough for the rest of the gang.

When I finally made my way outside to the path surrounded by tropical forest, a fellow traveler had already started his walk. Rather than crowd him, I waited until he reached the center and began his trek out. For a few minutes we traversed the gravel pathway together, moving in and out along the sacred road. While I was only mildly aware of his presence, there came a moment when he stopped at the edge of the circle, paused and then stepped out. In that split second, I felt a noticeable shift in the energy around me - not good, not bad, just different. The labyrinth was now all mine.

Walking with gentle steps, I became aware of light raindrops touching my bare skin. There was something fresh and new about the drops sifting through the green foliage, while contented birds sang in tune with my every step. Not being one to let a little water slow me down (it is, after all, my word for the year), I continued my pilgrimage. The rain persisted and picked up speed as I realized I would soon be soaking wet (having only just dried out from the morning's beach combing.) That was when the second angel appeared - Eve, (appropriately named in this garden of Eden) the proprietress, silently offered me a giant umbrella to help keep me dry.

Striped bumbershoot in hand, I continued my walk toward center. Upon arrival, I found the rest of the world had slipped away. I wasn't aware of anyone or anything except the present moment. Time stood still. As I tipped my head back to peek from beneath my shelter, the rain slowed down to the pace creation. I could see each drop appearing, one by one. And as I felt my whole being stretching upward, I experienced the hands of God reaching for my own - forming the drops of moisture out of thin air and pouring them into the being that is me. Aaahhhhhh. Yes, time stood still.

There are moments in a lifetime, I believe, that cause a molecular shift in your whole being. Even though they may drift in and out of conscious memory, they are embedded in who I am - in who you are. Currently, I am reading about Yoruba religion (a new one for me). In this tradition, Yoruba wisdom speaks of "recalling what we already know within." While I cannot adequately describe with words, I know that standing in the center of the Sacred Garden's labyrinth was one of those moments of "recalling."

How about you? Have you ever experienced moments of recalling what you already know deep within?

For my "official" review of God is Not One, visit here Monday, April 26 when I’m featured on the TLC Book Tour.

Bodie & Sacred Gardens © h3 images - artwork currently on display here and here.

Water Reflections

The Drop and the Sea

I went looking for Him
And lost myself;
The drop merged with the Sea --
Who can find it now?

Looking and looking for Him
I lost myself;
The Sea merged with the drop --
Who can find it now?

by Kabir

photo © h3 images

Even girls in tutus cry…

This morning I had the lovely and rare opportunity of meeting with a dear friend and spending a few hours dreaming together of creative possibilities for our lives. Our time together was made even more extraordinary by the backdrop of Shilshole Bay. The sun was shining, the wind calm and the temperature perfect - especially when wrapped in our warm blankies.

Part of my dreaming included ‘fessing up to some of the things that stop me from moving forward. These mainly consisted of journal whining with words like, “I could never…” or “Everybody else does it better than me…”

The background of this conversation featured children, mainly in the 2-4 year old range, romping up and down the beach – some with shovels in hand, others wearing brightly colored hats, most being trailed by mothers trying to keep up with the toddlers’ mad dashes toward the sea. One little girl in particular caught my eye. She was several yards down the beach, but close enough to see she was wearing a fabulous pink and black tutu – her mop of curly auburn hair flying in the breeze of her own making.

Tutus always catch my fancy. I’m not sure I ever owned one of my own and haven’t quite convinced myself that romping on the beach in a pink tutu would be my best look right now. However… I can easily get caught up in the magic of tulle and as I watched her from a distance, I felt empowered to overcome my journal whining and replace my “I could never” with a most certain, “Of course I can!”

A brief stop in the ladies’ room before heading home, brought us face to face with tutu girl. Her glee had been replaced by bellowing cries and fear at the sound of the hand dryer. The illusion of only perfection in tulle was momentarily shattered. Which was the illusion? What is the reality? Would my resolve waver too? Perhaps it was only the magic of the beach, sunshine and the tutu that made my dreams seem possible.

Nevertheless, I leaned into my resolve and listened to my inner creative spirit as I realized sometimes…

…even girls in tutus cry.

photos taken another day @ Shilshole Bay

To Be or Not to Be

Focus. It seems so funny to me that the word focus would arise with me this morning. As I look back at my morning journal pages, they show little focus (or volume recently). They appear abrupt and interrupted – unfocused. Can they be enough? Can I be enough? Can simply “being” be enough?

The focus of Being. I see it as the tension between allowing things to bubble up – percolate – be what they will be in the moment, AND putting a course into action - following what wants to arise with more steps, through more effort.

For example, I want to write a book (yikes did I just say that?). Will it simply bubble up? Will someone just say, “Here, let me put those unfocused journals into a book for you”? Very unlikely. It takes effort – focus. Will my body get healthy if I just sit around “being” all the time? No, it takes at least a little push to get out and walk, take a class, stretch on my yoga mat.

So, here's where my morning musings landed:

Simply being doesn’t always cut it. Sometimes you have to focus.

Thoughts? Do you experience the tension between being and focusing? To be or not to be - that is the question - today.