The beautiful dance of expansion and co-creation

There was a moment in meditation today where I saw myself growing and expanding. I’m sorry, that’s a little esoteric, let me explain.

I saw myself driving across the country. I saw myself writing every day. I saw myself running every day. I saw myself meeting new people. I saw myself learning the guitar. I saw myself meeting all my friends across the country. I saw myself taking pictures every day. I saw myself learning, growing, and expanding.

I felt so free in that premonition.

As I let the wheels turn in this reality I felt all the power in the universe converging to create it. I let go of what, where, why, when, and how it would happen. I said that I trust divine guidance and timing that when it’s time all things will happen that need to happen.

As I said that I realized that I can start so much of this now. I don’t need to wait for this moment of convergence to start. I will start today. I will start right now.

Here is the thing, the universe won’t give you what you’re not ready for. So, if I’m not willing to start creating the life I want right now why would it give me the life I visioned in my meditation?

We are not islands. We are the universe. We are co-creators of our reality in every moment.

I get it. I didn’t before, but this morning I get it.

What I am learning as I become more aware is that there is a HUGE difference between understanding things intellectually, and really understanding them within your body. Really feeling yourself expanding. Really feeling the safety of who you are.

I am so thankful to be awake. So thankful to have woken. So thankful that I can help others do the same.

A witness to the unfolding of myself

There is a feeling inside me this morning. I’ve been looking at it for a while now. Wondering what it is. What I am feeling. For years my body has been a mixture of anger, fear, and anxiety. I had conditioned myself to live just on the edge of these emotions. I couldn’t feel anything but the extremes.

So, this morning, as I am looking at my heart space, and I feel so open. And I am… confused. This feels different. It’s like the gentle breeze though the trees that makes them laugh as the leaves brush each other. It’s the cloud moving across the sky slowly so that you may watch in wonder. Ah, I see it now. There is an acceptance there. A surrendering to the truth of my life. A compassion I’ve never had for myself.

This journey has been so interesting. There have been so many parts of myself that I’ve seen in new light. So many things coming to the surface like trapped bubbles beneath the water. I am the exploding on the surface, beautiful and violent and ever rippling outward into the still water.

I’m sorry I’m speaking in riddles today, but it is the only talking that makes sense.

There is a Rumi quote, “You aren’t a drop in the ocean but the ocean in drop.” I used to think it merely beautiful, now I’m beginning to see it’s true.

I feel spread between two worlds today. On one hand there is the physical world in which I live, with the life I have created. On the other I feel as if I am the universe. Every exploding star, every organism, every life as it breathes and moves. I am infinite and ever expanding outward.

I’m not sure what scares me more – the fact that I am in this body or the fact that I am not.

I am watching my own unfolding. My own transformation from what was to what is. It scares a small part of me and delights a larger part of me. I feel as if I am dreaming and waking up at the same time.

What will the day bring if nothing but another step toward truth. Toward wholeness. Toward our ever-present awakening to myself.

I thought I knew who I was for a moment, but it’s gone now, and all I am left with is the surrender to the feeling in my chest: I am safe. I am loved. I am whole. I am healed. I am home.

Gratitude

Dear God,

I realize that we don't talk much.

That I have been quiet for many years.

That I have spent too many nights crying

over this life that had been given to me.

I forgot that today, this moment, and this breath

are gifts that I should be grateful for.

I need to tell you that I'm sorry.

Maybe not in the way you think.

I am sorry that I was so lost.

I'm sorry that I thought that there was something wrong

with me and my life

and the ever-perfect dance that we are all in.

However,

even as I type this

apologizing doesn't seem quite right

as if I am guilty

as if I have done something wrong.

Maybe that's where we, as humans, get tripped up.

Maybe it's our ever striving for perfection

that makes us think we are unworthy of the life

we are standing in.

Perhaps,

if I close my eyes

if I breathe deeply

I can let go of the guilt I've been holding--

let go of the way I wish things were

and say Thank You.

Thank you for the sun climbing over the horizon

for the cold wind that will bring the snow

for the bright red leaves of the fall

and the smell of decay and fresh dirt.

Thank you for this moment

my breath as it enters

and as it leaves

and it's part in the infinite circle

of giving and receiving.

Breathe in: receive.

Breathe out: give.

Thank you for the sleep I got last night

in my warm bed

sandwiched between my two dogs

who love me unconditionally.

Thank you for my sight

and the gift of language.

Thank you for my body

the one that heals itself

and holds me

and protects me

and carries me through this life

with every step.

Thank you for my car

so I may travel

and the money that allows me

to fill it.

Thank you for the silence

for sound

and the feeling of my heart beating

in my chest

that reminds me I am alive.

Thank you for kindness

that I give to myself and others

and the kindness I receive in return.

Thank you for the friends and family

that support me

and those who don't.

Thank you for all the tears

that led me to loving myself.

Thank you for the sunsets

over the mountains to the west

and for west

so there can be sunsets.

Thank you for the hot summer sun

and the green leaves

that grow every spring.

Thank you for the winter quiet

and the soft crunch of snow

under my boots.

The ocean and the endless horizon.

Thank you for the sky

and the clouds

and the rain --

but especially the smell of petrichor.

Thank you for the moments

of hating myself and the world

for they led me forward

into the light.

Thank you for the computer

I'm typing on

and my job.

Thank you for the surrender

in which I find myself.

Thank you for music

this day

and all the songs I will hear.

Thank you for my voice

sometimes shaky

sometimes quiet

but always there.

Thank you for the smell of vanilla

that comes from lodgepole pine

on hot summer days.

Thank you for the people

who guide me forward.

Thank you for hiking trails

and deer

and the caw of crows

in the morning.

Thank you for the smell

of coffee as it brews

and the hot bitter taste

as I sip slowly in the pre-dawn

of the morning.

Thank you for the stars

to light my way at night

and the Milkyway

in which I call home

and the moon

as it waxes and wanes

so symbolic of this life

that I have been given

right now

on this beautiful planet

we call Earth.

Oh, God,

I'm so sorry.

I had forgotten all that I have

to be grateful for.