I am different. Every moment of every day creates the room and space for me to be this: Different. My life is a metamorphosis, a practice in the reality of impermanence. Moods come and go. Preferences shift and shape. Awareness heightens then dulls until again the stimulation of God’s breath breathes and it wakes. It is all part of the existence of life, the way of the ebb and flow, the journey of a thousand miles. I step. Each step takes me down roads never before walked, along paths unpaved. There is no direction outside the voice of life leading me. I listen. It is the only way that I am able to travel. Within.
I tilt my head and lean in closer. The warmth feels of sun against bare skin, tickling my flesh. It is you breathing on me again, and I feel the hairs on the back of my neck rise like a flower through soil that has been cultivated by your promises. I walk atop the invisibility of your word, and there is no shelter as strong, no energy of force able to withstand your voice.
The asking has already been. My plate bountiful, yet empty waiting again to be filled by the Magic. I receive you, arms stretched wide and heart cracked open that you see the purity of my being. It matters not how long I sit here at your table. You are my companion. Your presence reminds me to sit longer still and to trust that time is timeless and the arrival is closer than nigh. The arrival is now.
Healing happens in each moment that we open ourselves and turn in the direction of its truth. We are whole, and our body has everything needed to sustain itself. It is the inconsistency of the mind, the way it likes to swing from branch to branch inquisitive like and playing with the ego that causes the pauses, the blocks to truth, and the barriers that would have us to believe that what appears to be is the ultimate of what is. It isn’t so. Yet the journey to wholeness often challenges us, brings us close to the edge where disbelief resides. How long does our faith sustain us? How long are we to be blind before the light reveals the way, restoring sight never before seen? Keep steady. Each step inside of each moment leads us ever-nigh to the vast space where the breath of restoration is exhaled and the hair on the back of our neck raises to greet the Magic. The wand is there atop the table within reach. We need only to lift our hand and motion forward in its direction and watch how it meets us there the way levitation rises heavenward, feet still planted. The soil remains ripe. It remains ready for the exploration of its bounty, its wholeness, its Yes to the prayer that we’ve prayed. Keep steady. Turn always your wayward thoughts back to the essence of the Divine. Feel the sun against your skin and know that it breathes on you all that is needed in order to be free. You are free. You are free.
There in the infinite space of your breath do I lay my head, face eastward toward the sun. I am guided always by the light. It is the way. It is the star of my following when night falls and the quiet feels haunting. How serene your voice. How mysterious the way of alignment that I can only pause the thinking of my thoughts to listen. I hear always your voice and follow its sound through doors that are opened to me, and I experience the Magic every time I walk through. I dance in celebration of your bounty and abundance, and for the good that is laid before me on a table at which I sit beside you. There is neither haste nor angst. I sit with a heart open to the supper when it arrives. It is there in the wait of my sitting that I smell the ingredients of manifestation, my heart beating in grateful anticipation, my mouth watering for the feast. Every step walked through life has led me here, and I open wide my being that I feel the essence of you sweep through me like a wind whose only intention is to heal, to lift, and to carry. I am sustained, and it is my sustenance that brings me to my knees in prostration for the materialization of clear intention. Then it arrives, and I am awed by the fullness of your gift. I asked but for a plate and you have offered me a platter.
I dance with God, because it is the path of the Divine. There is no road traveled outside the realm of the light. So bright it is that I am awakened to the fullness of its moon in my sleep. I am led always beside waters still where the current takes me into vastness and releases me into life’s abundance. How open my heart and awakened my soul to the gift of this life and the way of the journey. I walk. My feet bare that I might feel the earth beneath me, experience the connection to the hand that has given life to all. I am matter, a form filled with spirit that runs the river of my being that I might go there to the deep end and test the waters. My faith sustains me, allows me to breathe underwater and walk atop its vibration. I lose myself in the Magic, awed by the way of its mystery and grateful to see.
May my eyes land always upon your grace.
May my ears hear the voice so clearly I cannot deny the way.
May my feet carry me through doors opened by your breath.
May my heart expand inside the abundant over flow.
May my prayer be a mantra in the meditation of my sitting that I draw ever nigh to you.
The quiet is nice. It stands out to me in the moment that I silence sound, shutting off Netflix or turning away from social media. It’s like turning those lights off turns on the Light. Every moment ripe with its own purpose, whatever I see it to be. The quiet allows me to hear, and to be with myself and my thoughts. I feel most creative the instant I silence sound and become conscious of the quiet. That moment bursts with light—stilled fireworks.
This time in my life is about the quiet, I can tell. It shows its face everywhere I look, and it reminds me of its presence. I’m aware of the quiet and its voice of silence. It doesn’t go missing or fall short on me. I see the gift that it is, so I turn to it for guidance and direction, and for the openings of creativity. We commune, the quiet and I. We spend time in each other’s presence, listening, engaging.
There is rich stillness in the quiet. It feels dense, weighing me with answers and awareness, the omens that I follow. I am awed by how heavy feels so light when rightly aligned, and I listen always for alignment, and for the way in which I am to follow the omens. I go always there, in the direction of life’s pointing, not my own.
The other day I decided to walk to one of the many cafés in San Miguel, Zenteno Café, a quaint little spot situated at the tip of a street that ends in a sort of triangle. I had in mind to get out and do some writing amongst other people’s energy, change things up a bit from my normal write at home routine. Zenteno is perfect and usually full of others writing while sipping an espresso or latte. It’s a known gem amongst other cafés making it challenging to get a seat. See “quaint” for this cafe, is another word for very small, yet oh, so charming. I was able to get the last available seat near the baristas, my back against the wall everyone and everything became my view.
While en route I saw a young man I’ve seen several times in my neighborhood. He’s always friendly and wearing very lived in clothes that appear to be about two weeks past laundry day. “Hola!” I said with a wave while passing. “Hola! Como estas?” he returned, and so the greeting went, nothing out of the ordinary and all while I continued walking, him now following behind. When I turned to tell him I was off to the café to write, he extended his reach to me and in his hand was an ornament. “Oh, no gracias,” I said smiling at the gesture. “No gracias.” He continued to reach. “Es para tí,” he said, looking directly into my eyes then repeating. “Es para tí.” In that moment everything stopped including me. Here this young man stood offering me the only thing he had in that moment, and the look in his eyes was as though he’d searched and searched for something special, and it was for me. I know that wasn’t the case, but it was the case if that makes sense. I accepted the ornament from my heart and held it in my hand. “Muchas gracias.” I said bowing slightly. My spirit certainly recognized his in that moment. Continue reading “Ofrenda”
Sitting at my altar today communing with life, the energy of the magnanimous now came to me. I reached for what was available, Post-It notes and a pen.
What does that mean, the magnanimous now? For me it is the vast space of the open road. It is the beginning, the creator of all that is and the potential back of manifestation. It is also the resting place of quiet, like a pond in the early morning when the fog and mist are one. It is the place of contemplation and receptivity to what reveals itself. It is true. All things are to be found in the present, in the magnanimous now. How do we go there? How do we slow ourselves enough to go, and where is it that we go in search? Within. We each carry the magnanimous now within. There is no physical place. There is no need to go anywhere or do something that feels a task, another thing to list or ping us to remind. No. Life is designed to support us, to hold us, and to carry us along the way, wherever we go, regardless of the path we travel en route. It simplifies the steps reducing the many to the one: turn toward.
Turning toward, or leaning in, asks only that we pause, close our eyes and acknowledge what presents to us in that quiet clarity, be it our alignment or resistance or gratitude or our behavior or the overwhelming gamut of our thoughts. Turning toward is but consciously taking a moment and allowing the Holy to enter. God. Who is God? You are. I am. We are the manifestation of the very breath of the Holy, which means nothing separates us from that Essence. Further, that with the practice of going within and sitting with the Holy, we have access to vast awareness; we have access to the answers before the question has been asked. We are magicians who sit and learn from the truth of life until the alchemy creates the One.
Lean-in to yourself and hear the message that is being offered in the space of the magnanimous now. Often that is the impetus behind our unhappiness or suffering or discomfort: to turn us toward the within and to be there, fully so. This impetus is a gift—sacred—and one small enough to pocket and carry, yet vast enough to turn water to wine.