Being over Fleeing

I am cultivating simplicity, relying less on entertainment, technology, and complexity. 

At this time, this post-election time, I am plunging my heart into my faith. Nurturing it. Encouraging it to believe in itself - faith in faith. I want deep faith. For I know now that the further I go, the more light I find. 

This is an earnest surrender to the mysterious. I am waiting for clarity, looking for clues to feed and please my curiosity, though the solving of every story comes when it is ready. Time reveals the truth piece by piece by peeling away the veils of falsity like a snakeskin. 

I am finding comfort within, in my quiet company, in my being. It is work at first to sit without noise or sound or screen. When I sink into temporary boredom, it is a freedom. Boredom is a moment of emptiness. A cup ready to be filled by the Infinite. A space for creativity to be birthed and raised. It is a silent space. It is a brave invitation, a homecoming of the self...even for a short moment, seconds of stillness. A candle. A notebook. A pen. It is why losing electricity once in a while is a blessing. A mid-stop. A pause from the pattern of fleeing into screens.

I don't want to disregard art. I want to stand on the island of reason and choose the boats I throw my imagination and time. A film. A television show. A gallery. A speech. A poetry reading. And rarely now do I feel pulled to watch the news or spend my evenings on the couch.   

41 years old today

When I close my eyes, the years lie around me like a windblown box of photographs - memories and images that are faded and drifting, blurs of dreamy color, familiar and yet forgotten.  

I am grateful for the blessings of life, time, and breath. 

I am grateful for silence and stillness. 

I am grateful for the simplicity of quiet. 

I am grateful for the power of prayer. 

I am grateful for love. 

I have learned how to let go and flow like the river. I have learned to live longer in the heart, listening. I have learned that the mind will monologue like an old ragged politician at the podium, a fleshy puppet for the ego. I have learned how to offer it a walk in the woods. I have learned that God is here with me, guiding me toward the clean light. I have learned that my body is an ally to my soul, offering me evidence of my mistreatment. I have learned to care for my body like I once cared for my delicate infants. 

I have learned that I cannot learn everything yet - that the mystery is necessary. 

I have learned that this life is a gift. 

The Eve of the Election

 I took this photo this past summer in California. It is a fallen tree burned in a wildfire with new growth sprouting and thriving in and around the dark depths of its death.

It is the eve of the election, and I am sitting in silence, vowing to practice the important act of accepting the reality of the moment—just accepting it as what the universe needs for its evolution. I have faith in the co-creation with the Divine. I have faith that this is what we need even if the outcome of the election is dark and bleak. There is light even in the darkest, most dense shadows. 

The Universe of Unknowns

I have entered and wandered through many books, seeking validation, wisdom, and relief from the discomfort of living in the universe of unknowns. 

Now, I see the fruits of my labors of looking. I am full and I have always been full. I am free and I have always been free. It is the clutter of culture I must organize and compartmentalize and primarily ignore. I see my love. I see my light. I see too the agitation of disappointment. For I thought the sun might burst inside my being and life would become bright and easy. Now, I see that it is the seeking. Now, I see that it is the surrendering, the acceptance of it all - the known and the unknown, the light and the shadow.  Now, I see that the Divine did burst inside my being, making life what it needs to be for me.

In our world of form and formless, I am learning how to live - and how to embrace simplicity and some naivety. And while the books are publicized as study guides, they are - quite simply - the stories of other seekers. They can hold within their bindings, wisdom. However, the pure curriculum of life is in the moment. I must build my own book, pen my joy, articulate my awe, and write of wonder—not necessarily for the sharing but for the time spent telling.  

I wanted a third baby.

Yes! Let me fall into the space of tender infancy. Yes! Let me bud in pre-natal, bloom in birth, and nest in post-natal. Yes! Let me do better. Yes! Let me be better. Yes! And let me be home home home! Let me hide behind the responsibility of baby care. Let me hide from all the unknown opportunities out there. 

I daydreamed for one month about another soul joining our home. 

It started with a thought - an I could be pregnant thought - followed by stirrings and swirlings and quiverings within. And swelling? Yes, swelling! And swooning? Yes, swooning. 

But then, oh, then, - blood banged down my door. And I wept. This was grief. Grief for this one. Grief for no future ones. Grief for the end of an era. 

After a few days, the sorrow rose like fog, and there in the clear meadow of my being, I was whole and free and open to more. 

Yes, let me be more more more! 

Spirit

This life is a mystery. But You are here within me, whispering the song of my being, to my being, and with my being. It is a symphony of light and hums and strings and bellows. It is a symphony of steadiness and swells and grounding. It is soft though and it (if left unheard) will enter the body and harm it into hearing, into healing. And so, hush the world, for a little while every day, and sit in stillness and silence. Open the heart and bow. 

The Blue Woman

I am the blue woman, crying into the color, seeking the light within.  

This painting was made by my beloved Christina many years ago. She gifted it to me during my twenties, a time of meandering within the misery of doubt and uncertainty. Recently, I noticed the gold on the left of the blue woman, just below the hip. It is more subtle in person, but it looks like this when photographed. Here I see a candle. I see gold light. The blue woman looks like shadow. 

I have lived in shadow and I have lived in light. Now I know that I can be both. That I must be both, both blue and gold. Gold in the moments of rest, bliss, ease, and joy. And blue in the shadows of grief and fear and naivety.  I feel now the gold within me. This summer, it burst and bloomed. Christina is gold. She brings me (and many) to the light. In this painting, I am the blue woman, seeping through the canvas of form, dripping to Mother Earth, wet with sorrow and soul and sadness. I am also the gold heart, soft and luminous. I am both blue and gold. For the blue is gold and the gold is blue. Multitudes. I am multitudes. 

Purity and perfection are myths of myths. They are not impossible. We are pure. We are perfection. We are among and within sin. And we are among and within our lives of love, light, and learning. It is meant to be this way. We are here to transform. Avoidance is the abandonment of truth.  At 40 years old, I am deep within my metamorphosis. I now meander less and listen more. I have been transforming since the beginning. 

I once believed I was all shadow. Years later, I yearned to be all gold. I hoped to hide in golden bliss for the rest of my life. It was a hopeful lie and a helpful one. For in my seeking, I learned how to fly. Now I know that I can live with and within gold and blue. I can weep for my mistakes. And I can shine too with the light of love. 

I am the blue woman, and I am the gold woman.