Happy Sunday to all and thank you for joining me again this week. Today’s Sanctuary Sunday message is a buffet of sorts that connect us to our need to make ourselves available to receive new information. No one knows it all, and it’s important – if we are to connect with anyone or anything outside of ourselves – to open up enough to listen to a different voice or message or thought other than our own.
Insight arrives like a care package in the mail. It awakens joy and inspires us to touch the tip of gratitude. It comes when we open ourselves to receive guidance and release the hold of our own will, and when we wake inside the practice of “Thank you,” and move forward from that place. Thank you has a way of creating openings, ones that allow us to travel from pain to healing, from poverty to prosperity, and from limitation to the unlimited bounty that is life itself. Insight is the blooming of the seeds we’ve planted and cultivated through time and space, and when it cracks the soil revealing itself for the first time atop the surface, we are guided in the direction of the highest vibration. May we turn toward the within and listen for the way. May we silence the noise long enough to allow the breath of insight to enter in: It is our deepest knowing.
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.
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.
There is much inside of life, and even though we often try to control things, there is more unknown to us than known. This isn’t always easy to accept. Some resist only to have that resistance spiral out of control toppling onto other areas of life creating more to control, to fix, and to deal with. The cycle can be vicious, though not impossible to end. All things are available to us in every moment that we choose to turn toward rather than away; that we choose to flow with rather than be the salmon swimming upstream. There is purpose for them, there is no purpose for us. It is the mind reaching for something, anything to resolve the discomfort of now. It is the ego taking us by the hand like the rope of a tetherball, swinging us around and around until something abruptly stops the spinning. We are that something. We are masters of both mind and ego, and with practice we will be on the other side.
The precariousness that any moment is capable of bringing may leave you feeling like a boat lost at sea in the cold brought on by the night. You’re alone and afraid of the unknown in the blue-black of the sea. There you are sitting in your boat with your arms wrapped tightly around your knees, shivering, teeth rattling. Are you cold? Afraid? It’s hard to be certain when you are barely able to find your breath and keep from hyperventilating. Then you hear a voice that reminds you of the bag you’d taken for the journey. Inside there’s a pair of socks, your funny owl beanie, water, a sandwich, a pen, and a book with a book light. You start to feel lighter, less cold, less alone. Then again you hear the voice telling you to open the book. You do, and it says: Soon you will be on the other side.