Another profoundly simple yet simply profound practice for peace of mind. 1 min.
My experience with the dissolution of much of my reality, and the glorious freedom of being unbound by belief. 15 min
How wonderful it feels to drop anchor in the present moment. To use awareness of breath to slip below the often choppy surface of mind and into the stillness and silence of the deep.
To rest there, breathing the moment, and allow the senses to remind the heart of the beauty and balance Life always offers but the restless mind seldom sees- this, for me, shifts everything.
To do this, however, without complete self acceptance, is like diving in a submersible one doesn’t trust as entirely safe. Yes, the wonder of the underwater world will be there, but how much will I enjoy it?
Our survival minds are not wired for surrender. And it feels, for me at least, that utter self acceptance is the deepest form of it. This level of surrender often only comes when when we perceive our time left to be short. That’s what it took for me.
To truly be at peace with death requires being at peace with who I perceive myself to be, right now. And the more self aware I am, the harder this can be.
I’ve read the books. Studied many spiritual teachings. And my life looks nothing like what is often pointed to from these places. Self judgement, however subtle, can be easy.
It’s a classic spiritual paradox. To see myself through the eyes of love I must love myself. The Buddhists call this a koan. An unsolvable problem- for the mind.
Thankfully, I am more than my mind. I am also the awareness that sees my mind, my sense of self, and can hold it tenderly, as a loving mother holds her child. The moment I move from mind to breath, and consciously offer myself to be held, I am. Both held and holding. Somehow, both mother and child, swaying gently between the two in the rhythm of breath.
This friends, is how I find the peace that passes understanding. Resting in breath, and offering myself, just as I am, to the moment. In such surrender I find love and understanding, beauty and balance, and often, an irrepressible bit of laughter.
There are many ways we show up for one another. This is my favorite. 10 min.
I’m grateful to be reminded of the simplest of truths.
Indeed, realizing you alone are in there between the ears can feel very lonely. A few thoughts on how even that feeling can feel held by something greater.
There is a place within me
Where I am indivisible from you.
If I stop seeking, and rest in grace
Self acceptance softens me
Unites me with you.
I decided this is a better title than the one I used on You Tube.
How do I feel?
When first asked that question, my initial thought was that I don’t know. When I looked deeper, I realized that what I feel on the surface, overwhelmingly, is the collective feelings of fear, anxiety, sadness and anger in humanity today.
When I peel all of that away, I see that what I feel is hope. Hope that the seeming chaos and destruction will result in an equally epic transformation.
Anais Nin wrote “In chaos, there is fertility.” Giving birth is messy, painful and unpredictable. Yet it also contains great beauty, promise and hope. The birth of a new beginning holds the promise of a second chance. A brighter tomorrow. An evolved generation.
If things were working well, there would be no need for change. There would be no inspiration for the rebirth of our society. It is in the midst of this chaos – of this collective pain – that a Phoenix may rise from its own ashes.
It is in anticipation of this Phoenix that I. Feel. Hope.
I’m having a very mournful day. Feeling very isolated and alone.
I went to the grocery store and noticed how people just passed each other by. No eye contact, no smiling. Perhaps it’s just one of those days and I understand that. But it felt really lonely. And disconnected.
Yesterday I saw a deaf man whom I met about a year ago. When we met he told me in sign language I was beautiful. I was touched. A stranger was transparent enough to tell me what he was thinking in the very moment he met me. I was flattered and thanked him. And yesterday, as I was walking down an aisle of different store, I was thinking about him. I was remembering that moment when I met him and how sweet it was. I was remembering how people around me were talking and smiling. I was remembering, too, how the cashier smiled when he spoke to me.
Just then, there he was, turning the corner! I smiled but he couldn’t see through my mask. So I waved and he stopped. I pulled my mask down and told him that I was just thinking about him. He was touched and smiled too.
We stood there for a few moments with eye contact and no masks on. It felt wonderful, to be vulnerable and connect. Then we waved good-bye and went on our way.
I miss smiling at people and making eye contact. I miss hugging people. I miss simply being around people. I just started going into the office at work, and everyone there stays in their square rooms, with the doors closed. It feels so isolating. I don’t blame anyone. I understand. I’m just saying how it feels and how lonely it can be.
I don’t usually share these states of mind, these feelings, because I work through them. But today was a rough one, and figured if I’d I felt this way, others may have too. Maybe somehow this can help someone- in knowing someone else feels this way today too.
Tonight as I get ready for bed, I know I’ve acknowledged my feelings. I’ve shared them with whom I felt I needed to share them. I have cried and I have cleared my energies, releasing what could be released, and now it’s time to rest and allow my body to do what it needs to do.
Tomorrow is another day. Let the sun rise and shine brightly for a new day. May people see the smiles in my eyes, and feel safe and connected there.
~Adrienne Milagros Cheney