A 2021 picture of me at Mt. Shasta
Hey Hive community,
This morning, the sun came out for the first time in weeks.
Experiencing my first winter Midwest environment largely devoid of sunlight has been surprisingly challenging for me. So when I was walking my dog, I really took a moment to pause in the middle of the sidewalk to embrace the sun's energy. I felt the sun's radiant warmth and glow on my cheeks despite it being about 15 degrees this morning. A huge smile was born on my lips. A few moments later, I felt my eyes sting with tears and my heart opened like a vibrant flower unfolding. A sense of gratitude and grace washed over me. I was reminded of the grace of life that often falls us unexpectedly, regardless of the conditions of the daily world. In times of great division and collective trauma, life remains good and healing remains possible.
For someone who leans on goodness and awe as a way to cope with life's challenges, I can be pretty serious, close-minded about my own goodness, and generally hard on myself. And this morning, in the presence of the sun, I felt redeemed. I resolved to be softer on myself somehow. To take more moments to slow things down and just "Be." Less stimulation and doing, more feeling in between to the spaces and pauses in between things. @mada recently asked me when was the last time I did something relaxing, like take a bath. I realized I haven't done much of relaxing. Where politics, the state of the world, the mystery of what our future holds, the suffering of people globally, and the healing role I want to play in all of this aren't constantly on my mind.
Looking honestly at my process, I've been somewhat obsessed with work stuff, worrying about things not in my control, and trying to stay ahead of the high internal standard I harshly set for myself. Below is a journal entry for a women's meditation circle I am a part of:
Today, I am angry, frustrated, and in a complaining mood. I notice this manifest in the ways that I clench the steering wheel and narrow my eyes when I fixate on judgments. I speed up and rush simple things like cooking. I feel the tension in my neck and jaw from overthinking work emails and relationships. I look around me in my city of Minneapolis and feel the weight of a lost society suffering and in need of creativity and effective collaboration. I feel the fiery whirls of passion in my belly for doing what I can to help human suffering with my work, yet I also feel an exhaustion behind my shoulders and eyes, and a tense gripping of the floor with my toes. My work as an activist and nonprofit leader is exhausting. It asks a lot of me. And at this point in my physical healing journey, anytime I move too fast, get too stressed or live out of integrity, I automatically start wheezing or feel nauseous. It's like my body has fine-tuned this internal biofeedback system. And the more I heal my body from past illnesses, the more I respect what pain and discomfort brings me. Yet today, my growing sensitivity feels like a burden rather than a strength.
Finally, I let the tears come. I feel the tenderness of my own heart trying so hard to be strong, to have it all together, to be perfect this whole day. I focus on relaxing my shoulders, which deepens a slow exhale that relaxes my lungs. I notice something surprising: a sense of freedom and lightness from not needing to be hard while being angry. Like it's possible to be soft and feel angry, frustrated, scared. Perhaps a daily meditation practice could be cultivated around exploring what it's like to feel vulnerable and soft, while intentionally calling in and accepting the presence of my fears and discomforts.
I end the reflection with a powerful quote by the beautiful poet Danna Faulds. I feel so activated by what's going on in the world, and so committed to my work as a cultural healer and educator in this fragmented and complex media landscape we swim in. I sense that this quote is inviting me to hold my work and passion for the world in a different way. Perhaps in a way that's less driven by fear, insecurity, obsession, and performance anxiety. Instead, I'd like to lead with more softness, grounded passion, and openness to all of life (not just the positive and feel-good). The way towards this seems to be rooted in my willingness to relax and let go of trying to do good all the time.
A door opens. Maybe I've been standing here shuffling my weight from foot to foot for decades, or maybe I only knocked once. In truth, it doesn't matter. A door opens and I walk through without a backward glance. This is it, then, one moment of truth in a lifetime of truth; a choice made, a path taken, the gravitational pull of Spirit too compelling to ignore any longer. I am received by something far too vast to see. It has roots in antiquity but speaks clearly in the present tense. "Be," the vastness says. "Be without adverbs, descriptors, or qualities. Be so alive that awareness bares itself uncloaked and unadorned. Then go forth to give what you alone can give, awake to love and suffering, unburdened by the weight of expectations. Go forth to see and be seen, blossoming, always blossoming into your magnificence.
I'm excited and nervous to experience my first few experiences of living in below zero temps this week! I managed to get in a few outdoor shuffle sessions recently. I'm quite proud of the subtle and nuanced improvements in my shuffle dance. These days, I'm moving with more power, creativity, and embodiment.
... and here's Pt. 2!
Hope you enjoy! Thanks for tuning in.