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.
It is there in the quiet that we find our way back. The path has always been and yet the mind has a way of distracting us, taking our attention away from the earth atop which we stand and points left and right at fields so vast that we forget and lose our footing. There is beauty all around, yet not all things beautiful are meant to be explored before the harvest. We wait. We watch. We see. It is there in the quiet space where all is empty that we feel most full, and that we remember: Our feet are planted in the soil of Magic, and every step of our walking leads us there where alignment reveals the readiness. It is then that we receive the bounty of life. Let not the mind distract us from the course with its seducing ways pointing at beautiful things hither and yon. Let us remove our coverings and feel the earth beneath our feet, how moist with promise, how warm with the light of the sun. Here is the place of our standing, and it is this place that opens the door to all places where we are to stand.
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.
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.