Failing to Imagine, Learning to See

In Visionary summer, I wanted to take a fresh look at my work/art/life plan. For some strange reason I couldn't see anything with my mind's eye. Who do I want to collaborate with, what do I want to create, what do I want to experience? My attempts to dream life into being went nowhere.

How mortifying that Wild Imagination should have failure of imagination!

But it's hard to dream big when we are feeling small. If we are unable to see anything ahead, it's time to see what's right here. I had to look at my anxiety and fears about no money, no support. I had to name my limiting beliefs. I had to face what in me felt hopeless, helpless. I had to be compassionate with these parts in me and agree to coexist peacefully. Maybe you know what I'm talking about.

I also had to let things be. In taking a pause, I got to fill up on reading about, of all things, the genius in each of us that relentlessly shapes our lives. I also had a most profound nature experience: the swift river flowing over immovable me. I understood how I am sculpted beautifully over time by life, like the granite boulders in the wild river's current. I felt grounded, joyful, satisfied. No pressure to do, just the bliss of being present and awake to incredible simple beauty. A day like that just fills my soul.

And now I have to pay attention to unexpected opportunities and support coming along - the days away at the river, a trip to see family and friends, a teaching gig, an inquiry about commissioned art, a new service project. These things pop up most often when I'm at my lowest, as if the Universe is saying: don't give up, keep going.

So that is what I'm doing.

K is for kinfolk

I'm on a family visit, helping out my ailing parents find more supportive living arrangements. I could not be here and be truly of service to my mom and dad without the loving support of My People. Most immediately, I mean my beloved younger sister and her wild and wonderful husband, my brother-in-law. We plan these trips together to offer mutual support and have fun and kick ass on cleaning our family's homestead to prepare it for sale. My brother and older sister do the same, forming the elder sibs team. Not only am I lucky enough to be related by blood and by marriage to these amazing people, I also get to enjoy them as my chosen kith and kin. Friends who are also relatives are a double blessing.

What would we do without our kinfolk, those people close to us, whose souls sing with ours? When I stop to think of the circles of kin I have, it's like the water rippling out from the center of a lake, where I've cast a stone of longing for belonging.  My man, my mate, is my main anchor back home. My parents, with whom I feel closest than I ever have, are another anchor for me now.  (Perhaps it's because I'm now interested in being of service to them, rather than obsessing about what I didn't get from them when I was a young one. Surprisingly enough, I am acting like a grown up! Watch out, it may happen to the best of us!) My friends, my clients, my colleagues, my teachers, my ex-friends - all these ripples of kin surround me, support me, and I carry them all in my ever enlarging heart.  

Of course, this leads me back to my favorite theme, gratitude. I'm learning to let in the support of my kith and kin, to belong, to feel connected in the giving and receiving flow of Us. Who do you count as Your People? Make sure you let them know often that you love and appreciate them. It'll bring a smile, a tear, a heart opening laugh. Try it and let me know.

J is for Juice

It's hard to do anything when you've run out of juice. My cell phone needed a new battery, had a hard time staying recharged. We are like that, sometimes needing a brand new reservoir for our liveliness.

It's good to inquire where our juice, our life energy, our oomph really lives in us. Is it living in a far mountain cave, dodging the snow leopards? Is it so far beneath the surface it hasn't seen the sun in years? What we call depression, what indigenous people call soul loss, can feel like this. 

To retrieve parts of our soul, we can turn to the natural world, even if you're in the city.  The elements rebalance us. 

Water: drinking lots of good clean water helps you filter out the toxins of daily life and literally restores your body's flow of water in, water out. Taking mindful baths or showers washes away whatever clings to you from daily exchanges. Floating in water helps us receive the support that's always here for us. Just listening to the waves and tides retunes us to our own rhythm of gathering force and letting go. 

Earth: just feeling the physical support as you sit is enormously restorative.  Notice your feet on the ground and the chair rising to meet your bottom and your back. Rest into that contact and support. I like the image of the earth mama raising her giant palms to meet the soles of my feet with every step. If you're able, taking a walk or hike is powerfully grounding and lets us return to the divine source in us. You know how refreshing it is to eat good root vegetables, how it literally keeps us in the here and now.

Fire: being out in sunlight gives you energy, lightens your mood, dances well with your biochemistry. Being around warm and loving people, feeling our heart fire, can be incredibly healing and rejuvenating. Playing with simple creativity engages heart fire. Ritually burning what we don't need anymore is helpful, writing down habits, patterns, beliefs that are ready to be transformed and burning the paper can powerfully make space for more helpful ways of being.

Air: Tibetan Buddhist tonglen breath practice transforms our demons into allies. It goes something roughly like this: holding an image of the divine within you, breathe in something that you'd like to transform. Say it's your lifelong anger at your brother. Breathe it in, give it to say your inner Quan Yin or Jesus, then let it go on the exhale with a blessing to yourself from your inner divine. Then do it again and  breathe out a blessing to your brother. Repeat as needed, sending out blessings to your brother repeatedly and to others who come to mind. Forgive little and big things. Transforming anger makes space for fresh energy and lightness. Don't be surprised if your brother calls, just because he was thinking of you. 

These are some ways to recharge your battery and find your juice again. Let me know about your favorite ways to juice up.

G is for Go

A friend of mine likes to remind himself about pacing: Slow, Flow, and Go. It's a good teaching for me to come back to exactly where I am right now, before I go rushing off ungrounded.

Slowing down to acknowledge how things are with you now is a kind of gentleness towards yourself. Yesterday in a movement exploration class I found myself trying to do things right, pushing, going too fast. Working way too hard to try to get into ease and flow. But pressure brings constriction, the opposite of flow.

I wasn't giving myself time to rest in the physical support that was there. The floor meeting my hand, the chair holding up my hip, the breath and sounds that help extend and suspend the limbs. I couldn't feel any of that, just frustration. I wasn't letting myself rest in what did feel good and nourishing. I was missing the moment.

So that's the pushing the river. On the other hand is inertia, forgetting there's always one step we can take. We can get self-indulgent, fall into our helplessness and hopelessness. Sometimes the best action we can take is grounding in the body and be present with what's here, even if it's terrible pain and discomfort. Can we just stand it, since it too is part of us? Making effort for the good is honoring where you are right now and supporting where you want to be.

We've all had enough practice bulldozing our way through what we call resistance, with mixed results. What if we could just take a moment to be really present and notice what is here and what is needed next? So where do you Slow, Flow, and Go? And where are you stuck?