A Dance with theDivine

A Dance with theDivine

From UPLIFT

We have to nourish our insight into impermanence every day. If we do, we will live more deeply, suffer less, and enjoy life much more. — Thích Nhất Hạnh

I am sitting in Boulder, Colorado at the end of July. The hum of Summer is everywhere. Nature is asserting her way effortlessly with exponential ease. The encroaching abundance is tapping at the window panes. Self-seeded sunflowers are following the sun and rocking in the breeze. Somewhere a radio plays uplifting tunes and Winter feels like an almost forgotten era, an ice-age ago.

And yet, as a first-time visitor to Colorado, I am curious about the long Winters. How everything will recede into what T.S. Eliot called the deadlands: that dormant peaceful sleep. I can’t help but stare at the enthusiastic, leaping-green foliage and tune in to its amnesia of Winter where I too am seduced and can hear my own being whispering how Winter, this year, will never arrive. How can it? In this very moment, there is no place for Winter… it is impossible. Everything is awake, even in the deep of night. Everything is alive and communing with each other.

The hum of Summer is everywhere.

Sipping ice tea, I close my eyes and imagine the white forgotten wonderland; everything snow-capped and snow deep. Some of this green will hibernate and find its new breath somewhere between April and May. But a lot of this verdant splendour will simply die. And I’m filled with a simultaneous sense of Trust and Acceptance. There is no place for grief in this present moment; no place for conversations about the impermanence of life. Right here nothing is born or dying–it is exquisitely changing molecular shape and endlessly manifesting into countless organic configurations.

My thoughts turn to those I love who have slipped into the deadlands; who have given up the ghost. And I now feel my grief smiling as I think of their old body-vessels molecularly coursing through the icy rivulets into Gold Lake; becoming the indigo of the petals of the blue mist penstemon; the shout of the gold stonecrop moss; the irrepressibly subtle lichen determined to spruce up every rock; the intelligence shaping the deciduous bushes or the ever-green resilient pines; the soft fur of a chipmunk’s tail; or the generous Summer rains and all the wildflowers sign-posting my way HOME as I walk around the lake.

I am grateful that my direct experience with death and grief has evolved into a loving acceptance and a peaceful trust in this alchemy–mystery that we call Life. And I have known all too well the grip of grief who, like a relentless hurricane, told me over and over and over that inner-peace will never, ever return.

But it does. And it will, And it is.

My loved ones are everywhere on this material plane. They have never been anywhere else. Their life-force, their essence, their spirit is having yet more dance lessons with the Divine.

The metamorphasis fills me with trust and acceptance.

I cannot think about the infinite metamorphosis of Existence without calling upon Hafiz…

Deepening The Wonder by Hafiz

Death is a favour to us,

But our scales have lost their balance.

The impermanence of the body

Should give us great clarity,

Deepening the wonder in our senses and eyes

Of this mysterious existence we share

And are surely just traveling through.

If I were in the Tavern tonight,

Hafiz would call for drinks

And as the Master poured, I would be reminded

That all I know of life and myself is that

We are just a mid-air flight of golden wine

Between His Pitcher and His Cup.

If I were in the Tavern tonight,

I would buy freely for everyone in this world

Because our marriage with the Cruel Beauty

Of time and space cannot endure very long.

Death is a favour to us,

But our minds have lost their balance.

The miraculous existence and impermanence of Form

Always makes the illuminated ones

Laugh and Sing.

~

thread

thread

noun

1. a fine cord of flax, cotton, or other fibrous material spun out to considerable length, especially when composed of two or more filaments twisted together.

2. twisted filaments or fibers of any kind used for sewing.

3. one of the lengths of yarn forming the warp or weft of a woven fabric.

verb (used without object)

1. to thread one’s way, as through a passage or between obstacles

2. to move in a threadlike course; wind or twine.

Curating Own Life to Find Joy… and Space!

The process of moving to a smaller place is like the process of reviewing one’s life. You are faced with everything, from major to minuscule, from your birth to your first and second marriage, your kids successes and misses, your passed away parents, your siblings-their spouses-ex spouses-kids-hobbies-travels, your husbands do’s and don’ts and everything imaginable and unimaginable in the form of paper, glass, porcelain, wood, metal and fabric.

Interesting process this to decide and weight what to carry on for the following fifty something years (LOL) or just identify, honor and kiss good-bye.

Things not only get in your way when you start the moving process (actually you bump into things in unexpected ways), they also get into your dreams… prompting people -dead or alive, impossible situations and extreme feelings.

I am happy to give myself the opportunity to curate the next stage of my life. When space is scarce, decisions are impeding -shall I devote square feet to pictures of relatives I don’t know-never met-will never meet or to my notes from a situation or trip I plan to recreate in my next blog? Shall l keep my son’s undecipherable statue from kindergarten or my late Mother tablecloth -that I never used but cherish.

Decisions, decisions on space -in your closet and your mind.

More space, less noise, more living.

Breathing in, I am Here. Breathing out, I am Now.

thread

thread

noun

a fine cord of flax, cotton, or other fibrous material spun out to considerable length, especially when composed of two or more filaments twisted together.

  1. twisted filaments or fibers of any kind used for sewing.
  2. one of the lengths of yarn forming the warp or weft of a woven fabric.

verb 

  1. to thread one’s way, as through a passage or between obstacles
  2. to move in a threadlike course; wind or twine.

Is it that something is missing or that something is not flowing properly?

I’ve lately realized that more that looking for something I lack, the journey is to open the channels to allow energy to flow in and out, up and down, connecting different layers within myself and around me.

It surprised me to learn that physiologically it’s not that “we breathe”, it’s rather that we just produce a change in pressure in our body that permits the Universe to “breathe us”. Revealing, right?

Instead of muscling through, just produce a small change in the pressure and let the thing, whatever it is, to manifest.

I heard, deeply in my heart, one of my yoga teachers saying that to be able to relax and surrender, our body needs to feel supported.

The guiding principles that apply to the body also apply to the mind.

The body follows the mind, the mind follows the breath, another yoga teacher says.

S/he who masters the breath, masters the world, yoga tradition teaches.

I add that also what happens in the body happens in the mind… and in the organization.

So, s/he who masters the breath, masters her/his organizational journey.

The breath is probably the only thing we can control. The respiratory system is the only in the human body that is autonomous AND conscious. So hardly the one thing we can really influence is our breathing pattern and how much and how long to focus our attention (ergo our mind) on our breath.

I remember a colleague in my former job telling that she loved to scuba dive because she knew she needed to pace and relax her breathing to count with enough oxygen in her tank. Besides, she could clearly listen to herself breathing, and the sound soothed her. Beautifully said!

My two cents today: when things start to spin crazy and I close my grip -in my throat, between my shoulder blades, in my belly- trying to control the uncontrollable-  I just turn to my breath and smooth its rough edges. And stay there for a few minutes.

Breathing in, I am Here. Breathing out, I am Now.