How many times have you issued the phrase ‘If only…’? Or ‘When I’?

I found myself doing this quite often in the past. While I do it less frequently, it still comes up every now and then.

Letting go is hard to DO. It requires that we take our hands off the illusionary sense of steering the path of life to a certain destination.

Yesterday I got to guide 8 women from all over the country who were here to celebrate the impending marriage of one of them. These women connected deeply by sharing their fears, concerns, what they imagined had been in their control - was no more. In the afternoon, five women gathered to support an experiment of ‘what happens if’ that I felt prompted to offer. The morning experience involved stillness to access the quiet place where control has no purpose. The afternoon invited movement to access the quiet place where control has no purpose. At some level, these women recognized the futility of using energy to try to control the uncontrollable. And while many of us think we want to take our hands off the wheel, the idea of actually doing so is terrifying… so sometimes, like Chuck Yeager, we need to be knocked unconscious.

“We are souls dressed up in sacred biochemical garments and our bodies are the instruments through which our souls play their music.”   Albert Einstein 

‘You are the creator of your experience of life.’ Kamini Desai

What’s your response to this statement? Does it make you squirm a bit, as it did me when I first heard this years ago in a training? Or does it seem like just another saying? Or maybe you agree, until something happens that challenges the ease of agreement? Might it demand an internal requirement that feels overwhelming?

Allow me to share two examples of this statement in the past three days.

It is hiking weather where I live. Yesterday I allocated time to go on a lengthy hike alone to invite in nature nurture for my physical, emotional, mental and spiritual being. Nature outings help me stay centered and grounded, and invite me to see anew.

Did you know that the breath registers emotions and responses to events before the brain recognizes the shift? The interrelatedness of our body continues to fascinate me; the underpinning of all this is our breath.

On Sunday, strolling the zoo lights with grandchildren, pushing my almost year old ‘Chill Cherub*’, next to the mother of my 10-month-old ‘Joy Boy*’ also in a stroller, their eyes of wonder sparkle as they take in the lights. Eyes so wide, as if able to absorb the sights and sounds and smells through their senses. And then, more magic, a spontaneous desire for human connection. One grandson reaches out his hand to touch the other. Their hands touch and clasp. It happens again and again. These innately connected beings just know and act in a way that sees wonderment is about connecting. So, they touch hands and clasp fingers and look at each other. Again, and again…

Upon rising one recent morning, our 6-year-old granddaughter, ever the early riser, asks if she can join me for my morning practice.

‘Certainly!’ was my immediate response. This was followed with, ‘And I do this in quiet so if you decide you need to leave so you can talk, you can do so. Please stay with me as long as you like, in silence.’..

A couple weeks ago, as I was settling in for my nightly sleep, what I can best summarize as a ‘mental detox’ occurred. It was fascinating to observe and unpleasant to receive.

A week early, while cleaning out a cabinet, a ‘detox’ kit from Desert Sage Herbs reappeared. Purchased March of 2020 as businesses were shutting down and struggling; it held appeal and allowed me to support local. When it appeared again, it was the time to embrace the invitation and see where it took me.

The flight will be full. The middle seat between me and the window, currently empty. My traveling companion sits in the aisle seat across from me. A young father and his three-year-old son approach asking if I’ll move back three rows and take a middle seat. I hesitate. He then suggests he will see about doing an exchange back there. I watch. An exchange is done that results in the wife of the window seat occupant being next to me. A perfect solution?

Yet I am invited to notice my resistance. My unwillingness to make the effort to move and relocate all my stuff. I judge myself. How can I, who advocates kindness and strive to do so, fail so miserably? It is a lesson. In my humanness. ….

Before the filter between thought and words had the opportunity to slip into place, I blurted out, “I disagree!” too loudly and abruptly, and to my surprise and certainly to the surprise of those people in our small group, especially the leader of this creative experience. …

Upon reflection, the words spoken were the truth and represented a strong belief. While I would’ve liked to …

As a pre-teen, I longed for store bought clothes. You know, the kind that looked cool and ‘everyone’ else was wearing. My dear mother was an excellent seamstress and sewed most of my clothes. It did not occur to me that this was unusual until 4th or 5th grade. Peer pressure set in, girls started wearing pants to school (imagine!) and I was left with tailored dresses, blouses and skirts artfully created by mom. This was yet one more point of dissension between a mother and her strong-willed daughter.

Butterflies remind me of my mom. Shortly after she died, over six years ago, I awoke to the remnants of a dream about her that included a butterfly, specifically a monarch butterfly, soaring with complete abandonment into the heavens.  I knew it was her way of letting me know she was soaring, and to look for her in the butterflies. Since that time there have been many butterfly synergies that I trust are mom messages.

“May the fire inside you always burn brighter than the fire outside you.” -Karen Salmansohn

I spent much of my life as a teenager and beyond ‘being’ angry. Anger wiped out other emotions. It covered the fear lurking under the anger: of not being enough, of not fitting in. Anger propelled me into college and the fire of anger fueled the separation from farm life in Minnesota, leaving parents and the familiar, and road tripping to Arizona. Anger also was a cover for fear, making sure vulnerability was never around as I didn’t trust myself to stray too far from the familiarity of using anger to protect and keep people away.I was unable to feel fully and allow life to be experienced as it was.

I felt the lump in my throat expanding as I fought back tears, changed a lifetime pattern of denying that my needs were unimportant as compared to my Dads. Instead of saying ‘Oh, okay’ or ‘I know you’re busy and have important things to do’ the courage rose up and my response was instead ‘I’d like to spend time with you, and do not often have the opportunity.’ …

Whether you celebrate Passover, Ramadan, Easter, a combination or none, we are all on a spiritual path. Sometimes we recognize it as such and just as often, it feels anything but spiritual. Spiritual explorations are messy, rarely linear and often fraught with wondering if you are the only person having these thoughts and feelings. This is regardless of religious belief systems and any spiritual practices. 

If it feels like it may be time to explore ….

I pull in front of the house, texting ‘I’m here.’

The garage door opens, and my friend says, “If you’re OK with it, I can hug you today. “

I turn to retrieve my jacket from my car and feel tears of joy coming from deep within that gurgle like a new spring found inside and then, gathering momentum, burst up and out. An unexpected response to an unexpected invitation. Pure joy at the simple invitation to be hugged by my dear friend. This inexplicable sense results in unexpected momentary incredible joy.

We embrace for a very long-time,….

After a repair, the washing machine agitates loudly, shaking all over the confined space it occupies. Initially irritating, now it is a backdrop to sounds present in home when laundry is being done. My husband recently suggested that maybe the machine was ‘agitating its way to balance’ and he may be correct. It’s too soon to tell.

Humans often get agitated, seemingly spinning out of control. We may have been taught, if not verbally then by example, to shut down any lack of control and ‘get a grip’, to not allow agitation to be expressed …