Migraines clear a calendar like heavy rains clear the air after fire season. No matter how much I want to resist it/fight it/deny it/refuse to give in to it, eventually it overwhelms me and wins, and sends me (literally) to a place of darkness, quiet, and calm. Figuratively, too - it packs a lot of value into one nasty headache.
Surrender. I came back from the epiphany of retreat and, without missing a beat, immediately picked up the frying pan/fire two-step as though the music had never stopped. God bless my body - it will only tolerate this redline samba for so long before the inflammation sets even the vessels in my brain on fire and I am forced to STOP. Dark glasses. Nausea and pain meds washed down with a caffeinated beverage, followed by a dark, quiet room and SILENCE. Breathing. Stillness. Peace.
Surrender. And then perspective. I went there again - (damn! why didn't I catch this sooner - see where I was headed, stop this before...) - I went there again - (it's ok - patterns formed over a lifetime do not shift in a day - or month - or year - or decade? - rest - breathe deeply - you are fine - you are getting it - you are learning to be you. Not the you you are supposed to be, but the real you - the soul you. It's ok - it is a spiral dance - and as you go around the spiral, passing again through the "stuff" you keep going, and...) - I went there again - to that experience of God's renewing presence. And I am refreshed.
Eventually a dim light is turned on (both literally and figuratively), and I reach for my glasses and a book - Anne Lamott's "Stitches: A Handbook on Meaning, Hope and Repair." I smile, and I cry. And cry some more. And gasp with recognition - like when you unexpectedly see your reflection and get SURPRISED by yourself - and smile - the deep kind of smile that starts in the place fitness geeks call the "core" and radiates out as far as the ends of my hair. From now on I think I'll call that a body smile - no crunches required. With refreshed soul, I find myself propped up in bed, and writing for the first time in almost a month. That is a very hopeful sign.
It is good to feel hope, for there is so much, even in the most trying of circumstances, that is worthy of hope. And joy. And gratitude. Thank you, migraine.
Now if only I can remember these new dance steps...
Body smiling,
Kim
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Thursday, October 3, 2013
Home
All is dark and quiet here on the Camas Prairie. The retreatants have left to return home to Boise, Mountain Home and Idaho Falls, and I have one last night to collect my thoughts before heading back to the other aspects of my ministry.
The past few days have been full - overflowing - abundant - amazing. What a joy to be in the company of seven courageous women who don't flinch when looking at the hard questions of life:
How do I experience God's love?
What is healthy for me (physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, relationally)?
How much is enough?
How do I rest?
How do I embody God's love and share it?
(and a question added by one in the group) - Who am I, and what am I doing that makes me that?
They willingly joined me in trying new spiritual disciplines, bravely engaged the questions on their heart, and created a safe and loving community for one another - what a privilege to facilitate such an experience!
It has been a very long time since I've led this kind of retreat (as opposed to visioning, conflict resolution, diversity training, leadership development, and ministry discernment and development). Sigh - sometimes you don't see how skewed the picture has become until you get enough distance and perspective to view it clearly. My ministry has been way out of balance - I have been dancing to tunes played by others, instead of dancing to God's music in my soul.
As I listened to these amazing women do their spiritual work, I realized that I was getting a precious gift from journeying with them:
I was getting my life and my ministry back.
All it takes is for me to be myself - not who others want, need, demand, or expect me to be, but who God created me to be - me! No more apologies and contorting my soul to meet all these other expectations. Not only is it ok for me to be myself - it is exactly how it is meant to be!
And throughout the cosmos there was a great sigh of relief and shout for joy, for she who had been lost finally found her way home.
Celebrating God's grace,
Kim
The past few days have been full - overflowing - abundant - amazing. What a joy to be in the company of seven courageous women who don't flinch when looking at the hard questions of life:
How do I experience God's love?
What is healthy for me (physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, relationally)?
How much is enough?
How do I rest?
How do I embody God's love and share it?
(and a question added by one in the group) - Who am I, and what am I doing that makes me that?
They willingly joined me in trying new spiritual disciplines, bravely engaged the questions on their heart, and created a safe and loving community for one another - what a privilege to facilitate such an experience!
It has been a very long time since I've led this kind of retreat (as opposed to visioning, conflict resolution, diversity training, leadership development, and ministry discernment and development). Sigh - sometimes you don't see how skewed the picture has become until you get enough distance and perspective to view it clearly. My ministry has been way out of balance - I have been dancing to tunes played by others, instead of dancing to God's music in my soul.
As I listened to these amazing women do their spiritual work, I realized that I was getting a precious gift from journeying with them:
I was getting my life and my ministry back.
All it takes is for me to be myself - not who others want, need, demand, or expect me to be, but who God created me to be - me! No more apologies and contorting my soul to meet all these other expectations. Not only is it ok for me to be myself - it is exactly how it is meant to be!
And throughout the cosmos there was a great sigh of relief and shout for joy, for she who had been lost finally found her way home.
Celebrating God's grace,
Kim
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Turkeygram, or Dances with Dragonflies
My world is both contracted and expanded today - contracted due to pain, and expanded due to God's ability to widen even the view from my window.
I missed chapel this morning due to pain that made the prospect of the short walk to the chapel seem eight miles long. Instead, I fully opened the window blinds and curled up in the glider for morning prayers. As I finished my prayers, I was startled by movement outside my window, and looked up to see four magnificent wild turkeys right outside my window. They were amazing! They hopped up onto the railing at the footbridge, and spend several minutes preening and stretching in the sunshine. Then they hopped down and headed across the field.
In native and popular folk medicine, turkeys are seen as messengers who bring four truths into awareness:
- The importance of the sacrifice of self for a higher purpose/greater good
- Understanding of the gift of giveaway
- Invitation to honor the Earth Mother
- Messenger of harvest bounties
Which message if for me? In time, I will know.
Dragonflies have kept me company all afternoon as I prepare for the arrival of the retreatants. This is the first spiritual retreat I have led since coming to Idaho (it has been a long time...). I opened it to our UCC Conference and Association, but only two churches expressed interest (and one is the church I serve). But I feel hopeful, as together we will take come time to deepen our awareness of God's love.
I love leading retreats - I do the prep work and facilitate the sessions, but then I step back and let the real Director of the Retreat engage in transforming work with each retreatant. God never disappoints....
Dancing with the dragonflies,
Kim
I missed chapel this morning due to pain that made the prospect of the short walk to the chapel seem eight miles long. Instead, I fully opened the window blinds and curled up in the glider for morning prayers. As I finished my prayers, I was startled by movement outside my window, and looked up to see four magnificent wild turkeys right outside my window. They were amazing! They hopped up onto the railing at the footbridge, and spend several minutes preening and stretching in the sunshine. Then they hopped down and headed across the field.
In native and popular folk medicine, turkeys are seen as messengers who bring four truths into awareness:
- The importance of the sacrifice of self for a higher purpose/greater good
- Understanding of the gift of giveaway
- Invitation to honor the Earth Mother
- Messenger of harvest bounties
Which message if for me? In time, I will know.
Dragonflies have kept me company all afternoon as I prepare for the arrival of the retreatants. This is the first spiritual retreat I have led since coming to Idaho (it has been a long time...). I opened it to our UCC Conference and Association, but only two churches expressed interest (and one is the church I serve). But I feel hopeful, as together we will take come time to deepen our awareness of God's love.
I love leading retreats - I do the prep work and facilitate the sessions, but then I step back and let the real Director of the Retreat engage in transforming work with each retreatant. God never disappoints....
Dancing with the dragonflies,
Kim
Monday, September 30, 2013
Heartbeats in Sync - Waiting and Showing Up
One look at the night sky, and I know why I'm not meant to live in a city - it holds great healing power for me. Gazing deeply into the night reminds me of how it feels to gaze upon someone who is beloved. And perhaps that is what I am doing - gazing into the face of God.
I arrived at the Monastery after a beautiful drive into autumn (thank you, weather forecast, for being wrong). Just a little hint of red and yellow along the roadside...and a velvet covering of sage/gray surrounding White Bird Hill. Each mile brought a deepening of my breath, and freedom to my shoulders (my habitual storage site for tension). Once settled in my room, I began a familiar routine, including sitting at the window and watching the night sky emerge.
Only tonight instead of stars, the sky filled with clouds.
Don't get me wrong, I love a good cloudscape (and the recent weather has meant no disappointment in the cloudscape department). But I wasn't looking for clouds tonight, and started to get up to close the blinds when that inner voice said "wait."
So I waited. Slowly, the clouds disappeared, and a vibrant night sky emerged. What a sight! I watched for the longest time, when I decided more would be better (time to go outside). This was when I realized that I may have remembered to bring half my library with me, but I definitely forgot my jacket. No matter; I bundled up in layers, and headed out through the lounge door to - glory! The leaves are still on the trees (shielding the lights from the Inn), and so from my dark little patch of mud (rain earlier today), I had a brilliant view of the Milky Way. I watched this glorious sight until my joints were frozen and the back of my head felt permanently stuck to my shoulders. I quietly chanted one of my favorite prayer chants: "All my fears fall to you, O Kind One who hears, and knows only love." Then - silence.
Was Joseph Campbell right - is our greatest goal to be able to have our heart beat in sync with the heartbeat of the universe? For a second tonight...perhaps...maybe...
...yes.
Sometimes waiting makes all the difference...as does showing up.
Breathing deeply,
Kim
I arrived at the Monastery after a beautiful drive into autumn (thank you, weather forecast, for being wrong). Just a little hint of red and yellow along the roadside...and a velvet covering of sage/gray surrounding White Bird Hill. Each mile brought a deepening of my breath, and freedom to my shoulders (my habitual storage site for tension). Once settled in my room, I began a familiar routine, including sitting at the window and watching the night sky emerge.
Only tonight instead of stars, the sky filled with clouds.
Don't get me wrong, I love a good cloudscape (and the recent weather has meant no disappointment in the cloudscape department). But I wasn't looking for clouds tonight, and started to get up to close the blinds when that inner voice said "wait."
So I waited. Slowly, the clouds disappeared, and a vibrant night sky emerged. What a sight! I watched for the longest time, when I decided more would be better (time to go outside). This was when I realized that I may have remembered to bring half my library with me, but I definitely forgot my jacket. No matter; I bundled up in layers, and headed out through the lounge door to - glory! The leaves are still on the trees (shielding the lights from the Inn), and so from my dark little patch of mud (rain earlier today), I had a brilliant view of the Milky Way. I watched this glorious sight until my joints were frozen and the back of my head felt permanently stuck to my shoulders. I quietly chanted one of my favorite prayer chants: "All my fears fall to you, O Kind One who hears, and knows only love." Then - silence.
Was Joseph Campbell right - is our greatest goal to be able to have our heart beat in sync with the heartbeat of the universe? For a second tonight...perhaps...maybe...
...yes.
Sometimes waiting makes all the difference...as does showing up.
Breathing deeply,
Kim
Monday, September 9, 2013
The Rain, a Lake, and 4 Drunk Bikers
Teachers come in many forms. Yesterday I sat and watched a grasshopper eat a blade of grass - I had to slow down and focus in order to appreciate this remarkable teacher. Today my first teacher was the rain.
I woke up today before dawn, hoping to walk on East Inlet. But the sky said rain, and I didn't want to risk walking on wet rocks. I felt a twinge of disappointment, since the trail is where I have powerful encounters with Spirit. As I thought about this I began to laugh - as if God's presence and interaction with me is determined by my location! I instead went down and sat on my very favorite bench on the dock of the lake, and opened my heart to, well, whatever might happen.
At first the lake was extremely still - mirror like - reflecting the mountains that surround her on two sides. The detail of the reflection was incredible! I thought about the lake - it is very deep and still (at that moment). Yesterday it had whitecaps, but in this moment it was still. I felt drawn to that image - the stillness - and allowed myself to settle into a deep place of quiet.
A few minutes later the surface of the lake began to show interesting patterns - delightful designs. Soon the designs changed and looked almost electric - alive - energetic (it reminded me of that scene from the movie "Close Encounters" when the alien ship and humans began communicating with flashing lights and musical tones). The patterns danced and played on the surface of the water - deep and still yet alive and energetic! I was mesmerized by what I was seeing! And then, out towards the center of the lake, an area the size of a small car began to light up and shimmer like fireworks - diamonds - an incredible display! I closed my eyes and then looked one more time - it was still there! Slowly it settled down, and the patterns resumed. I offered thanks for the possibility of deep stillness with energetic beauty - a display to rival any fireworks show! Can I find that kind of balance in my life?
In the late afternoon (rain) I drove the Kawuneeche Valley one more time, drinking in the beauty of the Never Summer Mountains (my favorites next to Baldy), all the young trees that did well this summer, and the amazing beauty of the headwaters of the Colorado River. As the rain increased, I headed back to the cabin to read, rest, and prepare to leave tomorrow.
And there I met my new teachers - four drunk bikers staying in the cabin next to mine. They have been hard at drinking and smoking since early afternoon (impressive display of empty bottles lining the railing) and are doing this on the deck, so I cannot sit out there, and cannot leave my windows or door open for the smoke. Even with the cabin buttoned up, I can hear them clearly. I come here for peace - they come here to party. And they are my teachers tonight because I do not want to hold onto the feelings I have toward them. Yes, I feel justified, but what good does it do me to fill my heart and mind with anger, frustration, entitlement and righteous indignation? It has no impact on them (they seem quite happy - and loud). I am the one sitting in here contemplating their demise, and stuffing my heart with anger.
I am also in the process of reading David R. Hawkins book "Letting Go - The Pathway of Surrender." It is one of the best (and most challenging) books I have read this year - even though I do not agree with all his observations. Learning to acknowledge emotions without feeding them is not easy; choosing to instead strengthen positive emotions is harder still. It seems tonight I will have ample opportunity to practice these lessons. Frankly, I would rather not practice this at all - which means I have found another growing edge.
"May they be happy, may they be peaceful, may they be free from suffering. May they be happy, may they be peaceful, may they be filled with love." And may they be quiet! (It is a process...)
Sigh -
Kim
I woke up today before dawn, hoping to walk on East Inlet. But the sky said rain, and I didn't want to risk walking on wet rocks. I felt a twinge of disappointment, since the trail is where I have powerful encounters with Spirit. As I thought about this I began to laugh - as if God's presence and interaction with me is determined by my location! I instead went down and sat on my very favorite bench on the dock of the lake, and opened my heart to, well, whatever might happen.
At first the lake was extremely still - mirror like - reflecting the mountains that surround her on two sides. The detail of the reflection was incredible! I thought about the lake - it is very deep and still (at that moment). Yesterday it had whitecaps, but in this moment it was still. I felt drawn to that image - the stillness - and allowed myself to settle into a deep place of quiet.
A few minutes later the surface of the lake began to show interesting patterns - delightful designs. Soon the designs changed and looked almost electric - alive - energetic (it reminded me of that scene from the movie "Close Encounters" when the alien ship and humans began communicating with flashing lights and musical tones). The patterns danced and played on the surface of the water - deep and still yet alive and energetic! I was mesmerized by what I was seeing! And then, out towards the center of the lake, an area the size of a small car began to light up and shimmer like fireworks - diamonds - an incredible display! I closed my eyes and then looked one more time - it was still there! Slowly it settled down, and the patterns resumed. I offered thanks for the possibility of deep stillness with energetic beauty - a display to rival any fireworks show! Can I find that kind of balance in my life?
In the late afternoon (rain) I drove the Kawuneeche Valley one more time, drinking in the beauty of the Never Summer Mountains (my favorites next to Baldy), all the young trees that did well this summer, and the amazing beauty of the headwaters of the Colorado River. As the rain increased, I headed back to the cabin to read, rest, and prepare to leave tomorrow.
And there I met my new teachers - four drunk bikers staying in the cabin next to mine. They have been hard at drinking and smoking since early afternoon (impressive display of empty bottles lining the railing) and are doing this on the deck, so I cannot sit out there, and cannot leave my windows or door open for the smoke. Even with the cabin buttoned up, I can hear them clearly. I come here for peace - they come here to party. And they are my teachers tonight because I do not want to hold onto the feelings I have toward them. Yes, I feel justified, but what good does it do me to fill my heart and mind with anger, frustration, entitlement and righteous indignation? It has no impact on them (they seem quite happy - and loud). I am the one sitting in here contemplating their demise, and stuffing my heart with anger.
I am also in the process of reading David R. Hawkins book "Letting Go - The Pathway of Surrender." It is one of the best (and most challenging) books I have read this year - even though I do not agree with all his observations. Learning to acknowledge emotions without feeding them is not easy; choosing to instead strengthen positive emotions is harder still. It seems tonight I will have ample opportunity to practice these lessons. Frankly, I would rather not practice this at all - which means I have found another growing edge.
"May they be happy, may they be peaceful, may they be free from suffering. May they be happy, may they be peaceful, may they be filled with love." And may they be quiet! (It is a process...)
Sigh -
Kim
Sunday, September 8, 2013
God's Name Is Lucas (and he wears a Batman tee shirt)
Although all creation is sacred (God's body, so says Sallie McFague), the East Inlet Trail in the Kawuneeche Valley of Rocky Mountain National Park is especially sacred to me. I have hiked this trail since 1988, and no matter how far I get on it, I always have a powerful experience of the Sacred - of God. Always - without exception. And without exception, the experience is different/unexpected every time.
Once while praying in the First Meadow a huge bull moose appeared - he was too big to be real! I was speechless (and camera-less), and stood in reverence of Grandfather Moose. Years later his grandson taught me that I was capable of a pre-dawn vertical rock scramble in order to avoid being gored by angry teenage moose! Wildflowers and chipmunks have ministered to me, as has Old Baldy, my favorite mountain. And on my 50th birthday whilst resting on the rock shelf (offering thanks for my life and wondering how I was going to hike out with a blown knee), a hummingbird appeared and hovered in front of me - close enough to touch! As I hiked out that day, the hummingbird reappeared each time I felt I could not go on - God with wings!
My sacred experiences on this trail motivate me to hike just before dawn (before the crowds descend on the trail). Although families hiking in Rocky bring me hope, they do not necessarily add to my experience of silence, solitude and the Sacred. I would have been on the trail today pre-dawn, had it not been for a tough negotiation session with my knees. In light of my recent fall (and their memory of the 50th birthday hike), they came to the table with a list of demands: Mindful walking (slow and steady), no pain meds pre-hike (so I can't do too much), no set destination (turn back when needed), and leave after sunrise (to avoid a vertical rock scramble, or slipping in the dark). Since their demands were fair, I accepted their terms, and they agreed to the hike.
The hike was glorious! I may have set a record for the slowest trek to the First Meadow, but each careful step reassured my knees and allowed me to see more than I usually see. I sat in my thoughtful spot and offered thanks for Chapel of Garioch and her anniversary, and Boise First and kick-off Sunday. I prayed my list of intercessions, and gazed at the beauty of the meadow. Then it was time to leave - mostly downhill (my knee's version of hell). Along the way a doe and her fawn gave me encouragement. But as I reached the turnoff to Adams Falls, I had to sit down.
It was then that I heard a young child peppering his dad with questions. Soon I was face-to-face with a very precocious five-year-old dressed in a Batman tee shirt. He: "Hi lady. What are you doing?"
Me: "Resting." He: "I'm tired, too, so I'll rest with you."
He sat down next to me, shook my hand and told me his name was Lucas, that he was five-years-old and that he and his dad had just come from Adams Falls. They were waiting for his mom and auntie, who he hoped had not been eaten by mountain lions or gotten lost on the trail. I was able to reassure him on both counts, and said I'd keep an eye out for them as I hiked out. He asked me where I had been, and so I told him stories of the First Meadow. He insisted his dad take him to the lady's meadow (sorry dad), and with another handshake, we parted company. As I started the steep descent, I noticed that despite the pain, I was smiling. Lucas had touched my heart.
The end of the trail was near when I sat down one last time to comfort my knees. As I rested I heard a familiar voice shouting, "Dad, look - we found the lady!" Before I knew it, Lucas was sitting next to me on the rock, telling me about his trip to the meadow while snuggling just a bit. I felt wrapped in love and compassion! After awhile his dad smiled, and told Lucas it was time to leave. "No," he said, "I want to stay with the lady, and we can all go out together." I thanked Lucas for the offer, and told him it was ok to go - I walk very slowly, and didn't want to hold them up. He offered to walk slowly with me! Soon mom and auntie appeared (looking exhausted) and wondering if I was the lady who told Lucas about the meadow - sorry mom. Finally Lucas hugged me and said goodbye - saying he hoped to see me again, maybe in the meadow. He promised to look for me every time he came here for a walk. I wished him a happy and blessed life, thanked him, and told him I would look for him, too. As he walked away with his dad, he turned around and waved, then took his dad's hand as they disappeared from sight. I sat there still enveloped in love, and smiling at the sight of God as a five-year-old wearing a Batman tee shirt.
Once while praying in the First Meadow a huge bull moose appeared - he was too big to be real! I was speechless (and camera-less), and stood in reverence of Grandfather Moose. Years later his grandson taught me that I was capable of a pre-dawn vertical rock scramble in order to avoid being gored by angry teenage moose! Wildflowers and chipmunks have ministered to me, as has Old Baldy, my favorite mountain. And on my 50th birthday whilst resting on the rock shelf (offering thanks for my life and wondering how I was going to hike out with a blown knee), a hummingbird appeared and hovered in front of me - close enough to touch! As I hiked out that day, the hummingbird reappeared each time I felt I could not go on - God with wings!
My sacred experiences on this trail motivate me to hike just before dawn (before the crowds descend on the trail). Although families hiking in Rocky bring me hope, they do not necessarily add to my experience of silence, solitude and the Sacred. I would have been on the trail today pre-dawn, had it not been for a tough negotiation session with my knees. In light of my recent fall (and their memory of the 50th birthday hike), they came to the table with a list of demands: Mindful walking (slow and steady), no pain meds pre-hike (so I can't do too much), no set destination (turn back when needed), and leave after sunrise (to avoid a vertical rock scramble, or slipping in the dark). Since their demands were fair, I accepted their terms, and they agreed to the hike.
The hike was glorious! I may have set a record for the slowest trek to the First Meadow, but each careful step reassured my knees and allowed me to see more than I usually see. I sat in my thoughtful spot and offered thanks for Chapel of Garioch and her anniversary, and Boise First and kick-off Sunday. I prayed my list of intercessions, and gazed at the beauty of the meadow. Then it was time to leave - mostly downhill (my knee's version of hell). Along the way a doe and her fawn gave me encouragement. But as I reached the turnoff to Adams Falls, I had to sit down.
It was then that I heard a young child peppering his dad with questions. Soon I was face-to-face with a very precocious five-year-old dressed in a Batman tee shirt. He: "Hi lady. What are you doing?"
Me: "Resting." He: "I'm tired, too, so I'll rest with you."
He sat down next to me, shook my hand and told me his name was Lucas, that he was five-years-old and that he and his dad had just come from Adams Falls. They were waiting for his mom and auntie, who he hoped had not been eaten by mountain lions or gotten lost on the trail. I was able to reassure him on both counts, and said I'd keep an eye out for them as I hiked out. He asked me where I had been, and so I told him stories of the First Meadow. He insisted his dad take him to the lady's meadow (sorry dad), and with another handshake, we parted company. As I started the steep descent, I noticed that despite the pain, I was smiling. Lucas had touched my heart.
The end of the trail was near when I sat down one last time to comfort my knees. As I rested I heard a familiar voice shouting, "Dad, look - we found the lady!" Before I knew it, Lucas was sitting next to me on the rock, telling me about his trip to the meadow while snuggling just a bit. I felt wrapped in love and compassion! After awhile his dad smiled, and told Lucas it was time to leave. "No," he said, "I want to stay with the lady, and we can all go out together." I thanked Lucas for the offer, and told him it was ok to go - I walk very slowly, and didn't want to hold them up. He offered to walk slowly with me! Soon mom and auntie appeared (looking exhausted) and wondering if I was the lady who told Lucas about the meadow - sorry mom. Finally Lucas hugged me and said goodbye - saying he hoped to see me again, maybe in the meadow. He promised to look for me every time he came here for a walk. I wished him a happy and blessed life, thanked him, and told him I would look for him, too. As he walked away with his dad, he turned around and waved, then took his dad's hand as they disappeared from sight. I sat there still enveloped in love, and smiling at the sight of God as a five-year-old wearing a Batman tee shirt.
Saturday, September 7, 2013
Flow like water...
It is time to say goodbye to Clear Creek and Golden. I took my walk early today, as it is Farmer's Market day, which makes the path very busy. Dragonflies met me as I left the hotel, and beckoned me on my journey.
I didn't come here specifically looking for lessons, but I'm learning that an open heart notices and welcomes lessons whenever they come. The past has been on my mind (since I am visiting a place that is historically important to me). As I sat at the first bench watching the water flow over the rocks, I though about how fluid time is - the past with its regrets and nostalgia (which is a powerful drug), and the future with its fears and opportunities. It is so easy to focus attention on both ends of the time spectrum, missing the only time that actually exists - now. Reflecting on the past is good when it allows insights to surface that bring healing and wiser living - as long as the reflection doesn't become an exercise in self abuse. These few days have involved no small amount of reflecting on past choices and their consequences. Understanding those choices and compassionately forgiving myself has been a very healing step.
I watched the water flow over the rocks. It comes over the first set of rocks with great force and purpose, and most of the water continues straight downstream. But not all of the water makes it free the first few times, as the position of other rocks causes some of the water to circle back to re-enter the momentum of the forward movement again...and again...and again...and again...
...I smiled as I watched this cycle repeat itself countless times. I guess I'm not the only part of creation that needs some practice before catching the momentum to make it downstream! Smiles and laughter, and compassion, replaced the negative self-talk that runs on a feedback loop in my head. Flow like water - you will get there in time. If you circle back, another opportunity will be there to move forward. Flow like water...
I remembered my quarter so I could feed my chicken friends one last time and wish them a happy chicken day. I gazed up at the "M" on Lookout Mountain and decided that this time "M" stood for magnificent - which life truly is. I looked over at the front range, back at the mesas and Castle Rock, and headed back to the hotel for one last breakfast on the terrace overlooking the creek. Flow like water...
The strength and stability of the mountains...the fluidity of the water...the dance of the dragonflies. How blest I am to be in school with such good teachers.
Time to head up to the high country, and perhaps more lessons in life in the Spirit.
With love and joy,
Kim
I didn't come here specifically looking for lessons, but I'm learning that an open heart notices and welcomes lessons whenever they come. The past has been on my mind (since I am visiting a place that is historically important to me). As I sat at the first bench watching the water flow over the rocks, I though about how fluid time is - the past with its regrets and nostalgia (which is a powerful drug), and the future with its fears and opportunities. It is so easy to focus attention on both ends of the time spectrum, missing the only time that actually exists - now. Reflecting on the past is good when it allows insights to surface that bring healing and wiser living - as long as the reflection doesn't become an exercise in self abuse. These few days have involved no small amount of reflecting on past choices and their consequences. Understanding those choices and compassionately forgiving myself has been a very healing step.
I watched the water flow over the rocks. It comes over the first set of rocks with great force and purpose, and most of the water continues straight downstream. But not all of the water makes it free the first few times, as the position of other rocks causes some of the water to circle back to re-enter the momentum of the forward movement again...and again...and again...and again...
...I smiled as I watched this cycle repeat itself countless times. I guess I'm not the only part of creation that needs some practice before catching the momentum to make it downstream! Smiles and laughter, and compassion, replaced the negative self-talk that runs on a feedback loop in my head. Flow like water - you will get there in time. If you circle back, another opportunity will be there to move forward. Flow like water...
I remembered my quarter so I could feed my chicken friends one last time and wish them a happy chicken day. I gazed up at the "M" on Lookout Mountain and decided that this time "M" stood for magnificent - which life truly is. I looked over at the front range, back at the mesas and Castle Rock, and headed back to the hotel for one last breakfast on the terrace overlooking the creek. Flow like water...
The strength and stability of the mountains...the fluidity of the water...the dance of the dragonflies. How blest I am to be in school with such good teachers.
Time to head up to the high country, and perhaps more lessons in life in the Spirit.
With love and joy,
Kim
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)