Yesterday’s eclipse was magical. Did you feel it?
I didn’t look.
Instead, at its peak I lead a quiet meditation with a few friends. It felt wonderful to clear our minds, make space for the new chapter of the New Moon and absorb the celestial energy.
Before the peak, we feasted on sunshiny lemon ricotta cakes with blueberry moon sauce, turmeric yellow frittata with spinach, feta and shallot, English cheddar with fig preserves, grapes, yellow watermelon, purple Izzy soda and Moscato wine. If the heavens give us a reason to celebrate, why not do so with gusto?!
As the eclipse was ending, we dropped flowers into the creek and let the combined moon and sun energy carry our wishes into the future.
It was a magical eclipse.
Did you feel it?
Eclipse photo credit: (NASA/Aubrey Gemignani)
Time acts differently around the dying.
While the living are out and about doing their thing,
checking schedules –
time will expand and contract accordingly.
Around the dying one,
time does no such thing.
It has one slow, steady pace,
loudly beating the seconds,
each second to be suffered through,
keenly keeping pace,
Time holds the dying,
and for the witness,
vibrates through body and soul.
This post stems from the lowest of lows in public discourse – a trivial social media disagreement about a pop culture topic.
Specifically, a group of nice, middle-aged white ladies (yes, I’m the pot with the kettle in this story) criticizing how “full of herself” Beyoncé was during the “spectacle” of her Grammys performance.
I don’t know much about Beyoncé. I’m generally dismissive of pop culture artists since they are often just corporations in disguise. I don’t listen to much pop.
I watched the Grammys from my sick bed while recovering from the flu and goofing around online.
Beyoncé’s performance mesmerized me.
Visually stunning, it was not based on the usual shock-factor or hyper-sexuality that dominates so much of pop star women’s performances. Rather, it seemed to be exalting the love between mothers and daughters, Black mothers and daughters, to sacred status.
At one point Beyoncé said,
“If we’re going to heal, let it be glorious/ One thousand girls raise their arms.”
Quite a powerful statement given how much healing we’re yearning for in this political climate, and how girls and women are leading the march towards healing in unprecedented ways.
I googled Beyoncé’s words and learned that they came from the Somali-British poet Warsan Shire, whom Beyoncé collaborated with to make her Lemonade album.
Shire also wrote the devastating poem “Home” about the refugee experience, which begins:
“no one leaves home unless/home is the mouth of a shark”
Please read the whole poem. Read it now.
It turns out that in addition to being “full of herself,” Beyoncé was using her platform to highlight a voice that needs to be heard, a story that needs to be told.
Which brings me to the point of my post:
These days the battle between love and hate has been pushed to the forefront in a way I have not seen (noticed) in my lifetime. As one of those nice, middle aged white ladies, I am not confronted with hatred often – I get to observe it from the safety of my couch while watching the news. Even so, I can plainly see that hatred (toward refugees, people of color, anyone made to live on the margins of society) is more out in the open, but love is too.
I appreciate artists using their medium to elevate love to its sacred status.
Let’s appreciate the voice of love when we see it – especially if it takes us out of our comfort zone.
It’s easy to say that we stand for love, just like it is easy for some people to go to church and think they’ve done their weekly work for God. But standing for love and being close to God is not meant to be easy.
Living our lives as embodied love is elusive. You can work at it for years, studying the great spiritual leaders of your faith, doing the psychological uncovering of your ego and yet still be withholding love in countless ways – from your too-loud neighbors, or from a community of people in your own town who are struggling in ways you’re blind to, or even from your own child who is working your very last nerve.
We each withhold love in various ways each day and that is what separates us from the Divine. Moving closer to God means moving closer to fully embodying love in our daily lives.
What if our love for others was as bright and bold as Beyoncé’s headdress?
We have arrived in an era when hate speech and love speech are more out in the open than has been the case for awhile.
If you are on the side of love, it’s time to be fully love, full of love, full of yourself as love. Anything less is to comply with the hate that surrounds you.
And white readers, if we are turned off by something that a black or brown person is doing, let’s think long and hard before using “they are full of themselves” as a proclamation of our distaste.
If we are on the side of love, we strive for everyone – especially those who have blatant hatred directed at them just for existing – to be fully themselves.
Photo Credits Courtesy of Beyoncé/eonline.com beyonce-en-deesse-solaire-a-la-ceremonie-des-grammy-awards-2017_230698_w696.jpg Matt Sayles/Invision/AP Kevin Winter/Getty Images for NARAS/eonline.com
Womens March in Providence, RI (AP ) NYTCREDIT: Sait Serkan Gurbuz/Associated Press
Who knows what triumphs and struggles the new year will bring? Beyond our individual plans and goals, 2017 is threatening frightening political and social changes, the level of which remains to be seen. Now is a good time to ask what our role will be in the year ahead, both in our personal lives and in our communities.
I’d like to share something that I learned in 2016 which is helping me answer this question.
In early 2016, a close family member landed in the hospital for nearly two weeks after a frighteningly reckless action. That was the beginning of a months-long nightmare that somehow lead to an ideal resolution beyond the limits of my imagination. My loved one is now doing well.
Looking back on how the horrible ordeal turned into a blessing, I see that I had a little control over whether the outcome was tragic or joyous. Very little control, but I never lost sight of it. I could influence my loved one, perhaps expand or contract some of her options, but not control her. Therefore, I packed my little amount of control with clear, focused intention. The rest I let go, which gained me unfavorable judgments by others, but ultimately allowed the ideal resolution to present itself. In other words, I found the balance between acting with intention and being open to unforeseen possibilities.
How did I find this balance? Meditation, prayer and spiritual guidance made my intuitive voice loud and clear, gave me the strength to follow my intuition in an unpopular direction and guided me in the ebb and flow of action and letting go.
My new year’s message is therefore a reminder that you can influence the circumstances of 2017, but you cannot control what will happen. Be decisive about your intentions, use spiritual practices that strengthen your intuitive voice and seek the balance between taking action and being open to the unexpected.
Let’s do this and make 2017 a year filled with peace, justice and hope for us all.
I tend to be much more reflective during this time of the waning sun.
I journal, read through old journals, sort through old photos, paint, meditate, revisit favorite well-worn books, think about what I want to experience in the new year and so on.
In other words, I go deep – reminiscing, ruminating, then reformulating how I want to spend my time on this earth, in this body.
It’s part of living in the rhythm of the seasons, keeping in step with the encroaching darkness.
How do you keep in step with the rhythm of the seasons?
Back on Halloween, my friends and I came together to honor Death, the dead and the season of dying and letting go. We can’t hide from Death, so we might as well face it together, with wine and good food, sharing by candlelight and even a little shouting under the moon.
Letting go was more than just a metaphor for me this Fall, as it was the time I had to let my daughter move into young adulthood and I adjusted to a newly empty nest. It was also when I accompanied a dear friend as she transitioned into hospice care.
Face it – we have no choice but to let go – of youth, health, loved ones, certain ideas about ourselves and what we’re here to do, rigid plans – all of it has to go sooner or later.
Ashes to ashes and so on.
Halloween confronts death, and the Fall season with its falling leaves reminds us to let go of whatever is dying in our lives.
Then November comes, Thanksgiving in the USA, and we express our gratitude for whatever has remained.
I let go as my daughter moved into her next stage of life and then on Thanksgiving she and I came together and celebrated our familiar, yet evolving relationship with the familiar foods and rituals of Thanksgivings past. It was nice.
Now Winter Solstice is approaching. The Holiday Season. The days are getting so dark and we are moving so far from the sun we fear we may never see it again.
This darkness drives us a little mad, and many start to maniacally shop, throw holiday parties and do all they can to be merry, merry, merry.
Some, like me, settle into the darkness, appreciating how snow silences the outdoors, how the quiet turns me inward until I find that the whole universe is inside of myself – the history of the world lies in wait to be found deep inside of me.
Oh, I like to make a little merry too. I go to some parties. I buy gifts. I sing loud in the car to Elvis’ Merry Christmas, Baby. I put up a big, fat Frasier Fir and fill it with lights and beads. I get out the ornaments made by my daughter, from my own childhood, and from my grandmother’s tree. I bake gingerbread cake.
I enjoy all of that. I like to put some light and sparkle into the darkness, and make it cozy with warm smells and familiar music.
But I also enjoy making plenty of time to settle into the darkness. Reminiscing, ruminating, and reformulating. Going down deep where I can feel the Divine and appreciate that the Sun is always there, even when we can’t see it.
My daughter will move away and still be my daughter. My friend will leave her body and still be my friend. I know these things by going deep into the darkness where true faith, peace and calm are found.
The sun will take command of the sky again soon, but in the meantime, let’s appreciate the darkness and all that we can find there.
How do you appreciate this time of darkness?
Anger is real.
It’s a physical reaction that rises up through our bodies. It is not evil. It is not hate. It just is what it is, a physical reaction to something that our mind is processing. An emotion.
People who are brought up to be submissive are taught that anger is bad. That is most of us. We are trained to deny or suppress anger as it rises up, but that energy does not then just disappear. It gets subverted on to the self, sometimes becoming depression or anxiety.
Or it gets projected onto easy targets.
Or it twists itself into hatred and impulsive violence.
Or it wreaks havoc in our bodies, causing issues like ulcers or heart disease. There’s several different paths subverted anger can take and none of them are healthy.
The healthiest anger is anger that is accepted, examined and processed.
I’m feeling angry. Anger is okay. What exactly is triggering this anger? Am I sure or is the cause something even deeper? Okay, I accept that. Now what am I going to do about it?
That is how you accept, examine and process anger. That last step, figuring out what to do about it, is the hardest and most important step.
Let’s try not to skip over it.
- I’m watching an American Experience episode about Walt Disney on PBS. He certainly was a flawed human, but I’m fascinated by his early designs and models of Disneyland and how deeply satisfied he was when his vision finally came to fruition. He kept an apartment underneath Disneyland’s Main Street USA, and could be found walking the park early mornings in his bath robe.
- Six months after Prince’s sudden death, people are flying across the globe to visit his home and studio, hear the music he was creating and absorb his energy. Just as he had hoped.
- A few days ago, I met with a dear 90 year old friend, who after serving as an important spiritual and meditation mentor for decades in our city, is retiring out of town. She presented me with beautifully printed booklets of her writings and icon paintings.
- Meanwhile, a dear longtime friend, my age, has entered into hospice care. The trees around her house are filling with ribbons placed by friends and loved ones, each bearing a blessing for her. Messages are pouring into the house, telling stories of how she has impacted the lives of others and positively influenced her community. I read some of the messages aloud to her, and she smiled.
As I sit here only middle aged and in fine health, I can’t help but wonder:
What can I do for my loved ones and my community?
What can I create that will surpass me?
I also wonder about the connection between the quality of the relationships we nurtured, the work we’ve done in our communities, the creativity we brought to life – and our comfort with death and dying.
After weeks of hospitals and family crisis…today was a new day. A better day.
It started this morning as I was sitting on my deck drinking tea and reading the paper, when an older woman on a little indoor-type scooter, scooted right up to me in the backyard. This was very unusual, as I live in a secluded spot at the end of a driveway that’s about a block long.
I didn’t even hear her, I just suddenly saw her head scooting by the rail of my deck.
She was looking all around and saying “What a secluded spot you have here!” “What big, beautiful trees you have!” “Your flowers are beautiful!” “What a perfect place to sit and have your tea!”
She was like an angel dropping down into my cup of caffeine and saying “LOOK! THERE IS BEAUTY ALL AROUND YOU! JUST LOOK!”
Of course, she also could have been casing the joint for a future crime spree, but I was so happy to have this unexpected visitor, I grinned the whole time we talked about flowers and trees and squirrels and then she just scooted away, back down the driveway.
Afterwards, I walked by the creek and saw this autumn leaf dancing in the breeze. I watched it twirl and spin and then stand still in mid-air! Ah, it was hanging on by a thread – an invisible spider web thread.
It reminded me of the thread that holds onto me, even when I’m too tired to hold onto it.
I watched this magical orange leaf dancing on its thread, took pics and felt grateful that I am held with a sense of purpose and peace.
I next saw the sun sparkling off the water just so and thought “I am okay.” I have no idea what the future holds. I worry sick for the crisis in my family, oh, how I worry.
But I don’t have to worry alone because there are angels all around, scooting right up to me and reminding me of the beauty and hope in the world. And there is an invisible thread that connects me to all that is.