A Well of Wisdom

I started seeing a Spiritual Companion last summer. I found her on the internet and was attracted to her twinkling eyes. Yep, the windows to her delightful, calm, insightful, wise soul. When I have a session with her, her presence is so complete—and she hardly says anything!

This is the beauty of spiritual companioning. When we can sit with someone to talk about issues, confusions, questions, past hurts related to our spirituality, we find in ourselves a well of wisdom.

In my last session, I was sharing my desire for connection to the Mystery. As I explained what I want in that connection, why I want it, and how often the lack of connection comes up for me in my daily life, I had a sudden AHA! moment . . . maybe each time Separation is staring me in the face, that is the precise moment when Mystery is reaching out to me in a bid for connection.

My spiritual companion sat, listened, and smiled when I fell upon this awareness.

I’m not alone in being an external processor and this example shows how powerful it is to explore these spiritual conundrums with another.

If you are struggling with your spirituality in any way, I’d love to companion you to the well or your own wisdom. Click here to connect with me.

This is the beauty of spiritual companioning. When we can sit with someone to talk about issues, confusions, questions, past hurts related to our spirituality, we find in ourselves a well of wisdom.

In my last session, I was sharing my desire for connection to the Mystery. As I explained what I want in that connection, why I want it, and how often it comes up for me in my daily life, I had a sudden AHA! moment . . . maybe each time Separation is staring me in the face, that is the precise moment when Mystery is reaching out to me in a bid for connection.

My spiritual companion sat, listened, and smiled when I fell upon this awareness.

I’m not alone in being an external processor and this example shows how powerful it is to explore these spiritual conundrums with another.

If you are struggling with your spirituality in any way, I’d love to companion you to the well or your own wisdom. Click here to connect with me.

Gratitude

Today marks the 46th anniversary of the accident in which I lost my left leg and almost lost my right leg. Forty-Six years of life that was nearly robbed from me.

This isn’t the first—or only—time modern medicine saved my life. In 5th grade, surgery and penicillin kept me from experiencing a ruptured appendix (a fate my grandmother didn’t escape). When I was 52 years old, my breast cancer was managed by surgery and radiation.

Thinking back on my life, I am so grateful for the big moments: finding my husband and getting married, having my two children, finding a wonderful town in which to raise them, having meaningful work.

But it’s the small moments floating through my vision, the fleeting moments that bring me to my knees in gratitude . . .

Laying with my daughter before bed and talking to the fairies . . . the smell of lilacs in May . . . scrambling eggs for my son eggs before he left for school at 6:00 a.m.. . . walking in the woods when the wildflowers are blooming . . . a glance at my husband as he reads . . . the full moon taking my breath away. . . laughing with my siblings so hard I nearly pee my pants . . . kayaking next to otters . . . hours chatting on the phone with friends . . . the smell of the earth as I dig in the garden . . . the sunsets, oh, the sunsets . . . holding my mother’s hand as she took her last breath.

What’s amazing is that it took me until last year to fully feel the weight of my gratitude. The layers of grief, challenge, and erroneous beliefs masked true and deep gratitude for so long. I was just getting through each day.

I judge myself for living so long in the muck of trauma without gratitude AND I honor that that’s how long it took me to move through it and grasp gratitude on the other side like a long-lost relative coming off a plane.

I am humbled, stand in awe, and bow in deep gratitude for the life force within me and swirling all about me that fought for my right to live this life.

Things in the Dark

This week we stand at the threshold of Winter, the gateway to the darkest time of the year. For the Celts, this is the beginning of the year since life begins in the darkness. This is where the seed lives in the Winter, nestled in the dark, dank Earth. Many seeds, especially those with a tough seed covering (lovely metaphor, isn’t it?) need go through the stratification process during the winter, a process of cold temperatures, wind, and rain to help soften those tough shells so that they can germinate when Spring arrives.

In our modern age, we are transfixed by the light and by the next bright thing and avoid our dark areas. Darkness scares us, especially the darkness of our own psyche. We hold embarrassment or shame about these shadowed parts of ourselves. If I don’t look at and shed some light on these parts, they remain hidden in the shadows, ensconced in fear.

My practice with SoulCollage®—in which each collaged card is a distinct part of self—has been an important practice that teaches me how to look at and even honor these hard parts. First I acknowledge these hard-to-acknowledge parts, graduate to acceptance, and then move on to holding compassion for these parts that are challenging.

This is like my own stratification process, for once the shell of fear is broken, my compassion sends tendrils out into the light.

If you’re one of those folks who dreads the darkness of Winter, I invite you to collage, draw, scribble, journal, or engage in any other creative outlet that frees one of these energies that lives in the dark.

Trust that you have what it takes to say hello.

The Lesson of the Leaves

As a woman who is living in the Autumn of her life, I can’t help but appreciate how subliminally and elegantly the Earth teaches me how to open, release, and forgive.

Imagine the leaves on the deciduous trees as our anger, resentments, bitterness, and self-recriminating thoughts. We become so attached to these that even when it’s time to let them go, we don’t.

I imagine those leaves swirling through the air, dancing with each other, feeling the freedom of forgiveness.

But what we humans do is hold on to a stance, a position, a hurt, a transgression thinking this is somehow noble, valiant, and keeps us on the moral high ground. In fact, what we are doing is preventing that leaf from doing its sky-dance, forcing it to it wither on the tree.

Releasing our firm grip on past transgressions against us and/or releasing our firm grip on the shame of our past transgressions against ourselves is the most noble, virtuous, and brave thing we can do in this life. But it’s not a one-time event, Just like the leaves on the tree. There are so many of them that need to release and swirl in freedom in the air.

Why is there only one word for this heart process? For that’s what forgiveness is, a process of the heart that we engage in every day. After years of holding our fist tight, we must remind ourselves every fucking day to open that fist up and release.

This is not easy. Simple? Yes. But not easy.

We slip into our old pattern so easily; it may take weeks to realize we’re resentful and angry at someone (or ourselves) again.

Our ego easily adopts the moral superiority of our position and justifies why we should stay in anger, resentment, and bitterness.

It isn’t until we feel the strain of our heavy feelings that we remember to open our fist and release.

This Autumn, practice releasing these old patterned heavy thoughts and feelings and let them swirl in their freedom dance.

If you want to talk to me more about forgiveness, contact me here.

The Gifts of Autumn

Autumn is the season of ripe grapes on the vine and leaves falling from the trees, of golden sun slanting sideways and birds flying south.

As a 63-year-old woman, I am feeling as ripe as those grapes and I’m also ready to release the leaves of the past, the leaves of insecurity, the leaves of anxiety that no longer serve me.

When people grow older, we say they are in the “Autumn of their life.” This certainly feels true for me. Autumn has moved from being a season of the year and is now a season of my life. Before I allow myself to get morose about that, I must remember how generative Autumn is. The leaves drop to the forest floor and provide compost for the detritus so new life can emerge in Spring.

The trees, silent and sturdy as they prepare for winter, stand as teachers to us. How can we, yes, even in our 60’s, 70’s and 80’s, go deeper into ourselves and find the deep well of wisdom flowing through our body like sap in spring? How can we slow down and reflect on our past AND our future?

As I was walking a few days ago, these questions and some of the answers that slowly bubbled to the surface gave me a closer kinship with the energy of Autumn.

What are you ready to release. How might what you release actually be compost for something new in your future?

How can you go within during this next season?

Balance or Equilibrium?

The equal distribution of day and night at the Autumnal Equinox invites me to consider the concept of balance.

I have a visceral constriction with this word balance. Perhaps that’s because my body is so imbalanced: my right eye is half blind while my left eye has 20/15 vision; my right breast is half the size of my left, the result of a lumpectomy ten years ago; and my left leg has been gone for 45 years.

But more than just an imbalanced body, when I consider balance, I envision the cairns or balanced rock sculptures. If a herd of elk were to stomp nearby, the delicate balance would be destroyed, and the rocks would topple. So, there is an element of static-ness to balance that feels constricting.

I prefer to consider the word equilibrium, a concept that has been integrated into our bodies since we were born. Our inner ears are constantly using equilibrium to maintain our orientation to the earth and to gravity. And, I believe, our hearts are constantly using equilibrium to maintain our orientation to our Soul’s desires.

When I work with clients who ask for help getting more balance into their lives, I often ask, “What would that look like?” They are often confused and clueless. So, I move to, “What would that feel like?” It’s then that they talk about the notion of relaxation, rest, attuning to desire, and joy.

As the days and nights suspend in equality for a few nights, rest into this notion of how you can create more equilibrium in your life, that dynamic, engaging, often restful state of being that allows you to connect with your Soul’s desire.

Letting Go

Here we are in mid-August. We have travelled a few steps on the path into Autumn . . .Here we are in mid-August. We have travelled a few steps on the path into Autumn . . .  

• If the children haven’t returned to school where you live, they are excitedly buying school supplies and organizing their backpacks.  

• Summer vacations are coming to a close, memorialized through the photos of us in bathing suits, frolicking in water.

• Schedules that were thrown out for the exciting summer months are becoming reestablished.

• We are still harvesting whatever we planted in the early Spring—be it plants or projects.

After a few months of being external in the world, we find ourselves coming back into the home and into ourselves.

Perhaps we even feel a little sad or melancholy, reluctant to let go of the fireworks of Summer.

This is a time of transition, a time to release what was, a time to start embracing what is coming.

With all transitions, taking stock of our learnings brings a sense of accomplishment and fullness to where we’ve been.

AN INVITATION

Get out your journal and ask yourself:

What have you learned from the growing season?

Ripening

In the Celtic Calendar of the Year, August 1st marks the cross-quarterly holiday of Lughnasa, the gateway to Autumn.

“No,” you say, “this is summer at its peak!”

Ah, yes, that is what it may feel like, but look at nature. See what is happening. The sun is now setting before 9:00 pm here in Washington state making the days shorter, inching closer to the Fall Equinox. The garden is ripening and it’s time to start bringing in some of the harvest. Even some of the leaves are starting to turn—not many, but if you look closely, you’ll see them.

This is why I love using the Celtic Calendar as a way to witness, not only the cycle of nature, but the cycle of my inner world.

When we look to nature for guidance, something we’ve all sorely lost in our technologically dominated world, we observe the subtle, sublime, and silent mentorship of the Earth. She gracefully cycles through the seasons, inviting us to embody these cycles as we spiral around the year.

So here we stand on the threshold of Autumn, a liminal time between seasons when the whisper of change is in the air.

You might not feel like anything is ripening in your life, but don’t be fooled. This is the way the seasons work with us, whether we’re away of it or not.

From here on, each day we will step further and further into the darkness and the cold. This isn’t a time to dread, rather a time to celebrate the fruits of our own labors and honor our achievements.

An invitation . . .

Get out your journal and ask yourself:

• What is ripening for me right now?

• Looking back over the past eight months, what have I achieved?

• How can I celebrate?

Summer's Energy

Sometimes, like this morning, I couldn’t sleep past 5:00 a.m. I was buzzing. Energy flowing through me, passion swirling, ideas bouncing around my head like a jumping bean. I’m lit up, exited to start the day. I know I need my sleep, but sleep doesn’t come.

This is Summer Energy, that directed, passionate, dedicated energy, like an arrow flying toward its target. I know it’s time to get out of bed and do what’s mine to do.

In the Celtic calendar of the year, Summer is associated with the element of Fire, not a raging wildfire burning out of control and harming those in its path. No, this fire is contained, directed from within, guiding us toward, into, and through our power.

We’re all born with an intrinsic power that is ours alone to share. Different than the Power Over that pervades our culture, our intrinsic power holds the polarities of life: gentle yet mighty, subtle yet brazen, focused yet far-reaching, quiet yet unmistakable. The energy of Summer helps us walk around our unworthiness, doubts, and fears in order to embrace this power within.

This is no small task, is it? Unworthiness, doubt and fear are the troubling trifecta that causes us to feel stuck, immobilized, and live an unfulfilled life. Yet the passionate, directed energy of Summer has another element in it that guides us toward our power—like the imaginal cells in the chrysalis of a worm turning into a butterfly. Imaginal cells instinctively know what to in order to transform into that butterfly. Without question. Without fear. Without doubt.

I believe we have this same yearning and primal need to become who we alone came here to be. We all have that fiery, passionate need to connect with our inner power and light up our world – not as a wildfire (read fame, fortune, 10,000 IG followers), but a contained beautiful, nourishing bonfire that can be a healing balm for those who are near our flame.

So, what does it feel like for you to connect with your intrinsic power? If it doesn’t call to you at 5:00 am like it does me, when do you hear it? What does your power sound like? If it’s just a whisper right now, I invite you to sit in silence so you can hear what it has to say.

A Different Solstice Message

Tomorrow is the Summer Solstice. You’ll likely see lots of social media posts about shining your light, living your purpose, feeling empowered, or living into your fullness - wonderful Summer energies.

While these energies are all well and good, that’s not where I’m at. I recently returned from a trip to a country suffering from religious and political conflict, which left me feeling hopelessness for the world. I’m sitting with this feeling, examining it, and, at a very personal level, being challenged by it. How do I shine my tiny light and make any kind of difference when the world seems to be on a different trajectory?

Last night I spoke the answer to my young-adult daughter. She was feeling a similar sense of hopelessness for the world after being at a music festival last weekend where two people were killed and two were seriously injured by a random shooter. Of all the shootings she’s heard about in her short life, this one hit seriously and uncomfortably close to home.

“Find what you believe in,” I told her, “Remember what is true for you.”

“Your light may be a small one in this world but shining it outward is your responsibility to the world.”

I listened to my own words and felt a subtle shift in my solar plexus, my place of personal power.

You see, Summer Solstice is a physical turning point in the year when we stand at the apex of daylight. We begin our six-month turn into the darkness of the Winter Solstice. We can put blinders on and not look at the opposite inherent in this moment, but to do so is only looking at half the picture. We stand at a place of opposites and the Solstice also holds the darkness.

Summer Solstice is also an archetype full of metaphors. The sun, in all its blazing glory, reminds us to shine brightly and live our purpose.

As with all archetypes, they are always with us. We celebrate the seasonal holidays: the Solstices, Equinoxes, and the Cross-Quarterly holidays of the Celtic calendar, not only to engage in the immediate energy of each season, but to embody that energy so we can engage in that archetype at any time of year, perhaps accessing the energy of Summer Solstice and feeling empowered in our purpose in the depths of winter.

So, if you’re not feeling like you’re on solid ground with how to live your purpose, if your inner light is feeling a little dim right now, that’s okay.

Engage with the energy of the Summer Solstice anyway. Throw your head up to the sky and see what a difference one tiny star in the universe makes to our planet.