Sacred Sunday: Walkin' on Sunshine

I love Sunday mornings. Lingering. Journaling. Taking time and space for me to see what rises up. Images - visual and written stir through my mind. The past week gone. The next not yet here. I sit in the sacred present. Only now.

Candlelight and gentle music. Fan blowing. Family sleeping. Coffee, hot and warm by my side. “Live with Passion.” Yes. Choose life. Choose me. Images call my name. Some already gathered. The girl in the pink sweater. She beckoned to me while I was preparing for my workshop. She was mine. Held in space until just the right time.

“Walkin’ on Sunshine.” My day yesterday. My life now. Inseparable from the universe. One moment folds into the next. Grounded. Whole. Light and airy. Held by the hand of God. The hands of my father. My ancestors.

Walking towards Ireland. Walking toward myself. I hold on and I move forward. With trepidation, not fear. Quivering, undulating movement. The pendulum of my grounded heart swings. The souls (soles) of my feet dance and move and walk on sunshine… with sunshine… through sunshine.

I am sunshine. Lucy of the light. Illuminated and free. My passion glowing and growing for others to see. I am Norah – the one of compassion. And Lil – life’s beauty. They surround me. Bold and emboldened.

The past and present collide and unite with the girl in the pink sweater. Head tossed back and laughing with glee. Trusting. Trusted. Held. Safe in the arms of my father and my mother. Grounded. They offered so much. Did their best. Healed me. Broke me. Made me.

Skipping and dancing, I share my light. My unique image of God. Belly full. Day arising. Lovely. Beautiful. Creating and created.

ponder this...

"Perhaps the most important
thing we can undertake toward
the reduction of fear is to make
it easier for people to accept
themselves, to like themselves."

--Bonaro W. Overstreet

photo by lucy © 9.28.09

Sacred Sunday: I will not be Silenced

I want to feel safe on the page. Really, I want to feel safe everywhere. Don’t you? I have not felt particularly safe lately. I have so much I want to voice, and still I hesitate. I long to be seen and understood for who I am. I wonder if that is an impossible task to ask. I know it really is, especially since I am the one who knows myself the best and there are still many doors of unopened rooms in my life. Nonetheless, I long for safety, understanding and a strong voice.

Lately, I have been highly aware that people often choose to see others through their limited experience and have little curiosity towards a fuller view. But I am who I am because of ALL my experiences. I can be totally present to a single person because of all the others who have gone before. I can know his/her abandonment, because I have been abandoned. I will fight to stay, because I was left. I will hold, because I was not held. I seek clarity, because I have been misunderstood. I choose to see, because I was not seen.

My heart shares joy, because it is full and it has been emptied. I know a whole range of emotions and whether I like it or not they become real through experience, instead of staying abstract. My heart knows deep roots. I seek this alongside others, because I seek it for myself. I offer care, because I know the importance of self-care. I also know its absence. I know the pain of sorrow and what it is like to sob until I cannot breathe – to pound a chest and wail a primal scream until the wind has left my lungs and only sorrow remains.

I know the freedom of belly-laughing until snot runs out my nose and burns my nostrils making me cry “ouch” and then I roll over and laugh some more. I know the freedom of music filling my body and lifting me off the ground. I also know the weight of paralysis because the voice of my timid fool speaks loudest and commands me to stay where I am even when I yearn to dance.

I am perfectly equipped to listen and because of my humanity, I am equally equipped to fail. But I am strong and tenacious and I will get up again and again, because failure has not worked for me. It has instead taught me to be stronger. It is only a failure if I choose to stay down and let “it” win. I can choose to transform my failures – my weaknesses – my hurts. Failure wins if I choose to silence myself. Today I say, “NO, I will not be silenced.” Not in this moment – hopefully not ever.

On this sacred day, I wonder where are the places you long to feel safe? What is the voice that keeps you from living fully? How will you choose to speak? Perhaps in the smallest prayer, that says “Help!” Perhaps by taking the first step onto the dance floor of your longings. I hope you will join with me today and say for yourself, “No, I will not be silenced!”

dedicated to my friends...old, new, always

The glory of friendship is
not the outstretched hand,
nor the kindly smile, nor the
joy of companionship; it is
the spiritual inspiration that
comes to one when (s)he
discovers that someone else
believes in (her) and is
willing to trust (her).

--Ralph Waldo Emerson

photo taken last night at Golden Gardens (with my always friend)

Meet Aslan

We have a new member of our household. He has come into our life as many things seem to - by surprise AND all the while knowing it was only a matter of time. August 31 was the one year anniversary of our big old golden dog, Curry's passing. Our household has been in that curious mix of mourning and enjoying the freedom of no pet responsibilities. We always knew it was not a matter of if we would get another animal, but more the question of when or what.

Last week while in downtown Ballard, I walked by the pet store and there he was - a big golden kitty version of Curry. We bonded through the glass and I strolled inside to say hello. Then I read is bio - three year old male cat whose human mother had been orphaned by a drunk driver and his dad had been moved into assisted living. Name - Aslan. My heart strings were being pulled, but I walked away.

That night at dinner, I shared the story of the big yellow kitty with my family. My daughter broke into wild expression and announced we had to have him. My husband looked at me and said, "Why didn't you bring him home?" The decision was unanimous and the wheels were in motion.

So, for the last few days in the midst of facilitator training, my husband's travel and my daughter's work schedule, we have been filling out adoption papers for the big fluff ball. He came home with us yesterday and spent the afternoon and evening visiting each of us independently to see who gives the best loving. He is having a hard time deciding which I think is a very good thing for an orphaned and adopted kitty - so much love he can't choose who gives it best. (I will say, daughter scooped him up and carried him off to bed with her and I haven't yet seen him this morning, so she may be in the lead for best snuggles.)

Needless to say, the house feels complete again with the arrival of golden fur, pattering feet and a fuzzy presence to curl up with. Life is good.