At any time, we get to decide who – and how – we want to be. But some phases are more urgent than others. I am in transition: the midlife shift. It’s a huge opportunity to wake up.
This morning I wrote, “I’m getting there.” Then I scratched that. It’s more like: I’m getting Here. As in recognizing what is possible in each moment.
I’ve spent much of my life being goal-oriented. It’s the dominant paradigm, one that I’m learning to change. New teachers show up every day, yet our big brains can get in the way. Our memory keeps us There, as in Before. Our pattern-loving brains tell us, “I like this, I don’t like this.” “I can do this, I can’t do that.” These preferences — identity — can block what’s happening NOW.
What if each moment told us what to notice and appreciate and do?
This spring on a woman’s retreat to Yelapa, Mexico, we hiked through the jungle to a gorgeous pool and waterfall surrounded by looming gray boulders. While others played and swam and dove and chatted, I floated near the huge wizened rocks. I was drawn to these guardians of Eden, and their ancient perspective — so different from our brief human lives, our foibles, our pains, our insecurities. What did they have to say?
I opened myself to listen. Cultivating Yin. Simply being. Allowing my body to utterly relax (it’s easier in water where every inch is held and supported), I imagine my solar plexus as a bowl, ready to receive, yet with no idea or expectancy. I call this “letting the wind blow inside me.”
As I floated there, I sensed messages coming from the rocks. (Or perhaps it was my own mind. I will never know. I’m okay with that ambiguity.) Here is what they said:
oh, you lovely silly humans.
So gorgeous in your fragility.
Your laughter warms us.
Your play enlivens us.
We awaken when you come here to us.
We need you, your stolen kisses, your stories, your babies’ cries.
And yet —
You don’t fully see, or know, your value.
You waste it sometimes.
You create suffering of your own making.
You can be cruel.
We wish you could see yourselves the way we see you:
Precious Beings. All.
This is heaven. Right now.
We know this. We’ve been here a long time.
We invite you to this. Moment. Here.
Have you ever heard a message like that? Did the wind whisper something in your ear? Can a flower open your heart with a song? Please tell me, so I won’t feel alone.
Your comments are sweet nectar for this busy bee.
(Thanks to amazing photographer and motherheart Linda Wolf for bringing me there.)