Floating On A Luminescent Dream

To say Sedona Arizona is beautiful is to do it an injustice. Somehow the words are not deep enough to carry red and gold canyons in their letters. The way the sunset rings through the valley like a harmonic overtone is something you have to stand under to really understand.

Our local guide, Clint Frakes, said, “It is common for people to find themselves on an inner journey while hiking here. It is the land. It pushes you inward.” As if, in taking it all in, the landscape here draws you inside yourself and swallows you whole.

I recently spent 3 days in the Sedona area with my dear friend Jill. I had read about the place, mainly travel articles by those jaded by the “woo-woo” aspect of the town. A rough estimate says that 80 percent of tourists visiting Sedona are searching for something, many of them healing. It is indeed a place of pilgrimage, and it has been for thousands of years. Navajo, Tusayen and Hopi people are just a few of the tribes that regard Sedona as a sacred place. I can see why. We drove in as the lightening storm was driving out. Pillars of red sandstone appeared through the heavy clouds, vibrant from the recent rain. Canyon walls appeared like magic behind those spires. As I watched the landscape come into being, my eyes seeing it revealed in layers for the first time, I had to ask myself what I was searching for.

Jill and I avoided the Silver Shops. We did not try on any turquoise jewelry, nor did we have our palms read or our auras captured on film. What we did do was connect with the land through a three part journey hiking into a few of the seven sacred canyons around Sedona. Even better than the mud facial at the Sedona Day Spa is the joy of ten toes in red clay, joining raccoon and elk footprints in a riverbed.

Our guide was beyond incredible. Clint is a renaissance man, enfolding like a yucca, layers upon layers of education, knowledge and faith. He is one of those rare people who is a true Medicine Man, who knows how to carry his magic and apply his knowledge. I will not make assumptions about the number of people who may be posing in Sedona as healers or seers. I will say only that Clint Frakes is the genuine deal. He guided us not only through secret canyons and through pocket ecosystem forests, he guided us through layers of history, circumnavigating with myth and legend. Pointing out not only the wildlife and plants of the area with their healing qualities, but also our own strengths and hidden abilities. Through these walks in the canyons, through the stories of the ancients who walked these same paths, I have reconnected, found what I was searching for and more.

Clint shared a story of how in the Beginning, there was only the Creator. The Creator was lonely and longing for experience. He created a companion, Grandmother Spider, who set to work immediately in the dark void weaving an intricate web. She wove the ideas of everything she wanted to create. She wove in gorgeous patterns of possibility, and in this way, she wove a dream of the entire world and all the beings in it. But just as a web is invisible and transparent, the world she wove was not physical, it was merely a desire. The Creator gave her some fine dust and she blew a little on part of the web. It stuck to the luminescent threads making the dream visible as physical objects. As she blew dust on the web, all the creatures and living things she has dreamt of came into being. All life is connected by the Web of Life, not isolated but an individual awareness in a separate physical body, sharing the same energy as all other life.

Sedona is surrounded by seven canyons running parallel to one another, and the valley floor between them holds 40,000 archeological sites from pictographs to ruins. The ecosystems shifted as we hiked along, more than Aguave and Cacti, but Ponderosa Pines and Aligator Juniper. To those that pay attention, there are more than 700 different species of plants in this valley. As a healer, Clint harvests and makes medicinal teas of some of the plants and introduced them affectionately as friends, listing their healing attributes.

Clint spoke about Balance. How it is lost, how it is regained, and how his tribe, the Tusayen people believe it is tended. Balance, he said, is based on three main principles: Authenticity, Relationship, and Living From the Heart. The Tusayen believe that it is important to know oneself. To understand who you are, what your gifts are and to share that authentic self with the world.

In regards to living from the heart, we often think of our brain that is the processing center of the body. This week I learned that there are actually over three times more electrical impulses and connections within the heart as there are in the brain. Scientifically speaking, the heart generates the body’s most powerful and most extensive rhythmic electromagnetic field. Robin McCraty, Ph.D. says, “Compared to the electromagnetic field produced by the brain, the electrical component of the heart’s field is about 60 times greater in amplitude, and permeates every cell in the body.” The magnetic field of the heart is measurably 5,000 times stronger than that of the brain. We take in, process and feel a lot more in our hearts than we give credit for.

To live from the heart may be interpreted as seeing with eyes of love, or being guided by our emotions, our intuitions. To the Tusayen, it means starting everything you do from a place of your true essence, not making any action without first connecting to yourself. As in being connected to who you are, you may more deeply connect to the world and remember the invisible threads that unite us all.

Miles into our last hike, we stopped to connect and “drop in” - to sit still and breathe in the essence of the place. I found a solo seat in a dry creek bed, and nested in with my back against the ruby wall. Over the backlit pines that filled the canyon with the scent of vanilla and cardamom loomed a dark crimson sandstone wall. Between this wall and myself, were hundreds of travelers. Tiny spiders that moved high on the wind, connected to silky threads, illuminated when caught by the afternoon sun. A single thread is enough to catch the air tension and allow the spider to float weightless, without an ounce of resistance, as it trusts the wind to take it where it wants to go.

I smiled, remembering the first time I saw this phenomena, the day before on a different trail when a tiny orange being floated past me and into the great expanse of the Grand Canyon. I thought immediately of Grandmother Spider, as I watched this little spider, moving out into the great unknown moved by a luminescent dream. Watching the drifters, riding the sunlight in their ethereal chariots, I was reminded of how small we really are, and yet how we are able to cross the great expanse of possibility, to go where we want to go when we are willing to trust. And perhaps more importantly, how easy it is to follow our dreams until they manifest into reality. We are all weavers in our own right, creating dreams that glisten in the night and come to be in the morning light.

Taliesin West: Inviting Outside In

Scottsdale Arizona is indeed a desert. It reaches its first 100 degree weather in May. If the pool is not covered, all 6 feet of water will evaporate in one season. The tallest trees here happen to be Saguaro Cacti. Following it’s name, Frank Lloyd Wright’s Taliesin West home is nestled in to the brow of the desert mountains above Scottsdale. The 90 minute Insights Tour was indeed a unique one. This desert gets 8 inches of rain a year and during our tour we were present for 2 of them. Thunder boomed above us, shaking the air between rooms, interrupting the guide’s monologue.

This was my first time within a Frank Lloyd Wright home and I was surprised at how subtle the details were. His architecture is well thought out, but on the interior, it is not glaring. He believed that the first thing people do when they walk into a room is sit down. So many of the best views in the house are seen only from a seated position. The chairs are simple, made of plywood, with strong angles. I had a seat in one that reminded me of a paper airplane and immediately relaxed. This chair was designed with the intention of giving the seated person perfect posture. The arms are sloped away and down, automatically moving my shoulders out and back. Wright once said, “No matter how you look at life, you look right in my chair.“ The windows were angled at the right height so that I could see the saddle of a bare hillside and not the power lines.

Wright believed in bringing the outside in. He was known for designing his buildings to fit into their surroundings, and many of his lights and windows are fashioned after trees, butterflies and mountains. The ceilings in several of the Taliesin West rooms are translucent glass or plastic supported by steel beams allowing an open air feel and an abundance of natural light. The home is built to not need electric lights, all the side windows are angled to allow in the maximum lighting. Even as the dark thunderheads encircled the area, the rooms were well lit. I sat with perfect posture watching the storm above me. As the rain pelted furiously and ran down the angled glass ceiling shifting the light, I sincerely hoped that in this instance the home would not invite the outside in.

I shifted my attention back into the room. Not on, but IN the table before me, sat a plant. Looking closely, I saw that the table was actually centered around the plant. And all the other tables in Taliesin West, from dining to music stands, have triangular holes in them for plants also. Wright saw the most prominent shape in Arizona as the triangle, like the mountains that surround Taliesin West, and the shape is prominent in the architecture here. Even the swimming pool outside is triangular. Strong geometric lines and direct corners span the outside of the house. Asian archways with many red beams, connect in a series of triangles. Walking around the exterior of the house is like walking through an M.C. Escher drawing in red ink. Red was Wright’s favorite color, very significant to this man’s personality and ego.

Wright met his third and last wife in Chicago in 1924. Olgivanna was a noblewoman visiting from Yugoslavia who was half his age. They were seated next to one another by chance at a Ballet. Sneaking glances at her in the dark, he could not help but notice that she wore no makeup. And she, eyeing him curiously was intrigued with his red velvet cape.

No wonder she found him charming, a gentleman of great posture and dry wit whose creativity moved beyond architecture. Wright said that had he not become an architect, he would have been a musician. Beethoven was his favorite, and in the evenings, he would play the piano. He loved interactive toys, books on Asian Architecture, scotch and movies. Wright’s niece, the actress Anne Baxter (Razor’s Edge) sent him the directors cuts so that during the cold desert winters, he could enjoy 10 hour movies by the fireplace and a projector screen that he designed.

Olgivanna and Wright were hardly lonely in Taliesin West. It was just the two of them and thirty students at all times. The accepted students generally needed three things: 30,000 dollars, an aptitude for desert climate and a creative talent in disciplines other than architecture. A student of his was commissioned by his wife to do a bust sculpture of Wright. The poor girl had never sculpted anything other than still life, and he was her first human form. The young nervous girl did a very unique and effective sculpture of Wright, capturing the strength and determination in his facial expression, while still allowing his creativity to shine out through the crystal prism that stands as the statue’s shoulders.

The last ten years of Wright’s life were some of his most inspired. He completed one third of this work between the ages of 81 and 91 and when he died, he had 166 ongoing projects on his bulletin board.

That same student, whose love for sculpture was ignited in her first bust portrait, gave up on architecture and studied under Wright in Taliesin West as a sculptor. She has her own garden near the entrance of the house. In the clearing after the storm, the statues held blue sky and bright thunderheads in their glistening palms. Nearly thirty sculptures total, they are all reaching in different postures, capturing the nature of their surroundings and dancing with it. Inviting outside in.

To Look Into the Eye of The Ocean

Present to every moment, our lives are full, they are a continuous flow of vibrant moments. I had doubts that three days would be enough time on the island of Isla Mujeres, in the Mexican Caribbean sea. I replaced that doubt with the mantra of: there is always enough time. There was no way to see everything and do everything in three days, but when I was present to everything I did see and do, I truly lived during my time on the island. The funny thing was that life mirrored that attitude and gave plenty of time. On many occasions, my traveling companion and I discovered we had more time than we thought, it was always earlier than we had guessed, and the days seemed as full and colorful as unhurried weeks. In being present, the sun was the hottest I had ever felt, the homemade cinnamon icecream was the best I had ever tasted, the octopus was the freshest, the fish were the most vibrant, the hibiscus the most fragrant. Because my focus was in that exact moment, moment, everything was real to me, nothing else could even compare.

My enthusiastic traveling companion Tim and I began to play a favorite game of mine, called “Of Course.” The game goes a little like this: you put out an intention of how you want things to go and then you get to announce “Of Course!” when you get exactly what you asked for, goodness and beauty over and over again. Of course what shows up for us is exactly what we wanted because we asked for it, invited it, and are living in the flow of openly receiving.

I was thrilled to scuba dive off the same island I had picked up the sport, with the same dive company. Of course the owner of said fabulous dive company happened to be on the street walking towards us just after we landed, of course he had a boat going out the next morning with plenty of room. So much room, actually, that the boat had a very intimate group. (Perfect!)

We woke up the first morning, naturally, to the sunrise over sea and it was only 640am. Of course the day was full and long before us, with many chapters left unread. We watched the island wake up, the fishermen load their nets and supplies and motor out to work in the great wide blue open.

Our dive boat was running a bit late, so of course we had plenty of time. Others who had signed up waited with us. Amused, I watched an American couple who were too angry to return my smile or conversation. They had stopped having fun together years ago, and grew progressively more and more furious in a few minutes before loosing patience and storming off. It was really better that way. I didn’t want to dive with grumps anyhow. They must have forgotten to set their watches to Island Time. The boat was another half an hour out, so we had breakfast with our extra time. Fresh guacamole and octopus ceviche served on the water’s edge, with our bare feet buried in the silky smooth sand.

Our boat ride was a two hour search out to sea. The island quickly disappeared around the curvature of the earth. The sea grew dark teal beneath us. Flying fish scattered out away from the boat’s wake, spooked up in flocks of fifteen or more, sailing like skipping stones inches from the surface before diving back into the waves. I lost count after a hundred.

Tim and I were present to every nautical mile, laughing out loud when the boat slammed over huge waves, pointing out turtles and rays, watching the thunderhead clouds change form, counting the flying fish.

We scanned the horizon for Whale Sharks, not quite sure what we were looking for. “Balenna” as the Mayans called them, pass by Isla every year on their migrating path to Australia. Actually a fish, with the shape of a shark and the feeding habits of a whale, they are the only members of their genus and their family. I knew they are giant, between 30 to 50 feet long and weighed over 50,000 thousand pounds but would they appear lightly colored, or as dark shapes in the water? The unseen, the unknown, loomed somewhere out to sea.

After an hour and a half, the boat radio buzzed. Whale Sharks had been spotted, twenty miles farther out to sea. We sped out in that direction, and began to dress as ducks in flippers and bulky face masks. Appearances were quickly forgotten when we spotted the whales, huge dark shapes in the light green water. The boat pulled up next to one, a speckled giant swimming near the surface, his two dark dorsal fins extending above the turquoise surface, and the captain shouted, “Okay, now! Jump in now!” Feeling very small and flustered with excitement, I fell off the boat face first to swim after this being of mythical proportions. The whale was so massive I forgot to breathe, unaware of my body at all, so present to the experience, immersed in the details of the school-bus sized creature before me.

When the whale turned to face me, I was only a couple of feet from his speckled square nose. He opened his colossal oval mouth to take in a wave of tiny plankton between us.

I am not in his diet, but I would fit in that mouth. Panicked, I suddenly remembered my body and tried to learn how to swim backwards. The rules of the underwater road are: you are much MUCH bigger than me, so yes, I’ll move.

The whale turned again and swam away from me. With very little effort, he traveled fast! I did my best to follow until I was looking at the tail. Realizing that catching up meant getting closer to the force propelling the whale forward, I stopped swimming.

Being a water man and a strong swimmer, Tim was able to spend more time with the gentle giant side by side. Loosing the first whale was no disappointment, for of course, there were plenty more to connect with.

We met a pair, swimming together and a much older, larger whale with a company of fish escorts beneath his body. He seemed to be the omniscient old teacher, traveling with a school of inspired students. Whale Sharks can live to be over 100 years old, but when this big guy looked at me, what was in his eye seemed older than time. His relaxed gaze was unlike any: without the wildness of an animal stare, without the emotion of a human stare, it was an eye full of the immensity of simply being. Like looking into the eyes of the ocean itself.

In knowing me, you know I took photos, and yet, I have no images to illustrate this story. Due to a faulty memory card, all my pictures have been erased. A humble reminder that the experience is all I can ever take with me. One I am so grateful to have been fully present for. And believe me, the eye of the ocean itself with all its timeless wisdom does not fit into a photograph; it barely fits into this sentence, wider than my mind’s understanding and more alive than words.

　

Its Not About the Chocolate Cake

"The giving of Love is an education in itself." -Eleanor Roosevelt

Life gives us opportunities to come in contact with different kinds of people, and I feel that working in food service gives us twice the dose in half the time. In a coffee shop. I create food and drinks for people I normally would not approach, and I end up having deep conversations with personalities I may never talk to otherwise.

In the coffee house setting, I try to treat all people equally, with kindness. I sincerely enjoy the opportunity the job gives me to talk to people, to give them a little love, rather that is thru a positive anecdote, a compliment, a tasty comforting drink made just the way the like it, or in many cases, a physical hug. Yes, I tend to walk around that counter several times a day to throw my arms around someone who may really need it. Those who are not as lucky as myself to have family and close friends in this area, with an abundance of hugs just a mile away. And I have so much extra love to share. This job is fulfilling for me because of these types of uplifting interactions.

That being said, yesterday a little old man came in and ordered dinner. He is a regular customer, and filled me in on what a rough month it has been. He had worry, concern, sorrow and some kind of tight anger running the show. I treat him as I do everyone, looking for an opportunity to be kind. And when it comes to dessert, I offer to purchase it for him with my tip money. I don’t want to be close enough to his situation to hug him, so I can hopefully brighten up his day with dessert.

Instead of accepting, he turns the conversation around and makes a hurtful comment about who I am as a person, using what information he has acquired from being a regular at the coffee shop. He insults me and then continues to point fun at me, building on the mean comment.

This put-down is aimed at me, it seems to be about me, directed specifically at me but I choose to not take it personally. I immediately acknowledge it as a hurtful comment, but I don’t feel hurt. Instead, I take a deep breath and truly look at this guy. I can see the stress in his eyes, in the way he holds himself. In the way he clutches his keys so tightly his knuckles turn white. And I suddenly feel so sorry for him. He has just lashed out and attacked me verbally and all I have is compassion. He stands there waiting for my response to his barbed tounge’s lashing.

“I am sorry about your situation.” I tell him, as I pass over the slice of triple chocolate cake. “I can see you are in a rough place, I can feel it. It feels very uncomfortable. I do hope that things get better for you. At least temporarily through chocolate!” And I smile and leave the conversation.

“You’re right. Its awful.” he grumbles, but now his tone has changed. Softened by compassion, or perhaps just the mouthful of cake.

I got a lot more out of this interaction than the chance to do something kind for a grumpy old man. I turned away with a realization. In my past, I have believed that there are nice people and there are mean people. And now I re-construct this. I think that mean people are just suffering people. It is my impression that the tone he used with me was the same tone he uses with himself. One must be full of emotional poison to be able to inflict it on others. Many times, people speak hurtfully when they are hurt themselves. They are reacting. Look at a stereotypical un-healthy relationship. He hurts her so she reacts immediately by saying something to hurt him. As if it makes her feel better? Does that make it fair? Does it actually make her pain go away to in turn hurt her partner? I don’t really know, as I refuse to be that other half. I can end that cycle by pausing, breathing, and looking at where the person is coming from, by having empathy and compassion, by not participating in the cycle.

What the man said last night was hurtful, but I was not going to hurt him back. I actually wasn’t even going to choose to be hurt by it. Because I understand where he is coming from, and I get his insults were the same energy of how he feels deep inside, merely a projection and not really about me at all. This encourages me, when in difficult interactions, to take more time to think before I respond. To not just take it personally and react immediately, but look at where that person is coming from first. In this case it changed the situation completely.

On another note, this situation has not jaded me on being kind. Some people are willing participants, and receive as openly as I give. Others do not, and I am okay with that. I have tapped into some kind of shimmering unlimited joy, that never runs out, so I am in a good place to share. And I may never know how far it goes. The affects of interaction ripple out farther than I can see. I stand and skip stones because it bring me joy, how far the ripples extend is not the point.

A Story of Wolves...and Jellyfish

“There are two wolves fighting in every man’s heart. One is Love, and the other is Fear. Which one wins? The one you feed the most.” -Unknown

Life has been speaking to me a lot lately about love and fear. I recognize that I have come to a unique place where I see the world through eyes of love. I tend to wonder only how much better it can get, what miracle will happen next, and how I can have more fun. But I have had conversations lately with a variety of those close to me who wonder what could go wrong, and interject their fear and worry to me.

I had visited the Oregon coast recently to go surfing. When I shared my excitement about this upcoming surfing trip with my family, they responded immediately from a place of fear and worry. “But there are sharks on that coastline that eat surfers!” and “How could you possibly afford to take a trip right now?” I must openly share that comments like this do not make me feel supported and I was disappointed that they could not share my excitement. But I do realize that beneath the fear and worry, the core reasoning behind these statements is love. It is my understanding that these people worry because they love me and wish me no harm.

It has made me, in turn, look at how I respond when someone close to me shares something they are trying to accomplish. I have a choice in how I react - from a place of love and support or a place of worry and fear. We all have a choice in every interaction rather we are going to lift people up or bring them down. I am sorry that most people are not aware of that.

So there I was, walking through the soft sand with my kayak headed for an ocean full of possibility. Walking next to me with a long surfboard and paddle was my long time friend and recent joy companion, Tim. As the ocean cooled my toes, I put out an intention of what I would like the experience to be. Silently, I invited whales, dolphins, seals, but nothing else with a dorsal fin, if you know what I mean. I exuded what I wanted to have: fun, magic, play. And life responded with a mirror.

The sea was calm, and the waves were very small. So Tim and I decided to paddle out to sea and explore. Cape Kiwanda loomed in the distance, a giant triangular shaped rock a mile from the shore. The water grew darker as it grew deeper. At the base of the rocky cape, we stopped paddling and looked up in silence, distinguishing the many voices of seabirds nesting in the exposed face. Then something golden shimmered beneath me.

The water was so dark, I was surprised to be able to see anything. There was a moment of pure discovery, as I realized that what I was looking at in the water next to my boat was something completely foreign to me. It seemed to be shape shifting. In that instant, my mind raced to find a category for this new thing, to recognize it, to name it. And my heart was only full of love, so the emotion that arose was pure awe, shifting into joy when the glowing orb surfaced. It was a bright orange jellyfish, very near the color of my hair, and much larger than my head, with crimson red and white tentacles like long strands of ribbon spiraling from a bouquet. It was absolutely lovely and so incredible to me. Here was something that before that instant, did not exist in my world. I had never heard of jellyfish this big, and I thought all jellyfish were white or clear. I was delighted to see two more glowing gold jellyfish surface on the other side of my kayak, between Tim and I. Speechless, all I could do was point. His eyes met mine and we smiled as more than these incredible creatures danced between us.

The entire interaction with the ocean that day was a perfect example of feeding and supporting thoughts of what you want to show up in your world. Specifically poignant because sharks can smell fear. They are drawn to it. If I had identified with my family’s image of shark attacks and come to the ocean with a heart of worry and fear, I may have drawn something to worry about. And yet, because I came to the sea with a heart and mind full of love and magic, the sea reflected just that.

We have a choice, always, through mind diligence to give our attention to the thoughts that feed us or the thoughts that drain us. Like two dogs begging for your attention, you decide which gets the cookie of your attention.

It is not that I live a life without fear. (I still can’t stand spiders.) It is just that lately I have practiced and practiced until I see the world through eyes of love instead. When I see the world this way, I invite more loving connections and more magical experiences into my world because that is what I am expecting to find.

My beloved Yoga instructor says it is like your soul has a cell phone and is receiving calls. Because you have caller I.D. you can see if it is love calling or fear calling, and you can decide if you really want to go there, pick up and have a full conversation, or just ignore the call.

Our minds are full of voices, like those of the wolves. We are what we repeatedly do. Our practiced modes of thinking are those that arise first when we are faced with a new situation, when we are deciding what it will be to us. If we practice thinking of how good things can be, practice being gentle and loving with ourselves and others, those thoughts will surface first. Life again and again gives us those things we didn’t know that we didn’t know. Like jellyfish shimmering in the sea, any new interaction or situation is what we decide it is. Something arriving to kill us, or the most beautiful translucent creature we have met. On some level, we decide.

I return home amazed also to find that this incredible day on the ocean cannot even be shared as a story with many people. I told a friend about the beautiful jellyfish and he was immediately repulsed. “Man, jellyfish scare me to death.” he said, “My friend was stung by one once and was sick for days” Caught in his own fear, he could not hear me when I tried to share my joy with him, and I feel he missed the point of the story. The magic was lost on him, for his fear turned the story of awe into a horror story.

Stories arise in my daily life over and over. I am watching lately how my mind interprets them, trying to be sure I am not loosing the lesson or the beauty in my own fear. And, as all I can control is myself, I try to be what I want in the world and respond to stories of others with a place of compassion, a heart full of love and support.

Choosing to Honor My Heart - A New Mode of Living

“My heart knows me better than I know myself so I’m gonna let it do all the talking.” -K.T. Tunstall

　

I recently made a change to my preferred mode of living. It has been a long time coming and is directed by realizations I have come to over the past few months. Rather than merely gaining a new understanding of these concepts, I have taken a step further and have started to live these ideas. The difference is pivotal.

1) Honor Your Heart. To me, this means allowing myself to have what I want in my world now, without waiting. That also means not doing anything that goes against myself. Flat out refusing to participate in situations that are not healthy for me. In loving myself and honoring my heart, I must put my own happiness first. There are times when compromise is necessary and I acknowledge that. But because I have been on the dramatic end of putting myself second too many times, leading to feeling hurt and exhausted, I choose now to stand firmly in being good to me.

Sometimes, it takes a little time to get back in touch with our hearts. They may have been ignored longer than we realize. Right now is always the right time to reconnect to what we want in our world. And nothing is too big a dream or too beautiful an experience. No one ever limits you more than you limit yourself.

I had to remember how to listen to my heart, to let its shy voice speak. It always knows what it wants, I just forget how to listen. To honor your heart is to allow yourself to have the experiences you want in your world. When you really master this concept, there is no more floating through life reacting to whatever circumstances you find yourself in. Rather, this is a new art, of living through conscious choice. The art of working towards where you want to be. Of only surrounding yourself with the people you choose to have in your world. You are never obligated to let someone in, if they are unhealthy for you. Its your life, you open that door.

2) If there is no laughter involved, then don’t do it. If there is no joy in something, then why pursue it? I look back at times in my life that I have convinced myself that I had to participate in a situation for some reason. Even when the situation was unhealthy, or unwanted and held no joy, I felt I had good reasons, important reasons to stay. I had forgotten that I had a choice. To stay is a choice, to leave is a choice. The type of situation we partake in is a choice. Let’s get a bit more specific. There have been times in my life that I was working in a stressful job, and I thought I had good reasons to stay working there. And, in my past, I have been in relationships that have been unhealthy and I felt obligated to stay for some important reasons. But I had not yet gotten to the understanding of number three…

3) Nothing is more important than you feeling good. We are never stuck unless we choose to be. There is always another alternative. I have a choice to go outside in the evening and stand under the open sky and take in its glory, its color and patterns, to breathe in the sunset and participate because it pulls my heart to soaring joy. And, if I choose not to, and I remain inside working, the sunset will always still be there. We are never separate from our joy, we are merely disconnected. Even if I choose to stay in a job that keeps me stressed out, the job that could have me happier is existing simultaneously. It is always there. I think that honoring your heart is allowing yourself to float in the flow of situations that bring you joy, to choose more and more of those until your life is exactly how you want it to be. If it is not how you want it to be, choose again. Not that simple, I hear you say. Because of a, b, and c reasons. Those are good reasons, but let me ask you, are those things you listed more important than being good to yourself? Perhaps no one has ever told you, NOTHING is more important than you. Seriously. Wrap your mind around that one. How are you ever going to be happy if you put everyone else first? Its not so selfish. You can be kind and caring for others on a much deeper level when you are first kind to and taking care of yourself. On the airplane, stewardesses always say, “Put on your own air mask before assisting others.” Why? You can’t help anyone if you can’t breathe. When you pass out, you are no good to them.

So if you are in a job you do not enjoy, but you feel obligated to pay your bills and feed your kids, etc. Realize, there is already a different job out there that you will thrive in, the perfect fit, something fulfilling that suits your skillset that will also pay the bills and feed the kids. Just like the sunset, it is out there, available always.

For me, honoring my heart is about participating in experiences that bring me joy, and choosing not to participate anywhere else. Its my life, and I am the designer. To me, going against myself is choosing to be anywhere or do anything that harms me, is not what I want, keeps my needs from being met, does not feel good, or has no joy in it.

This month, I listened to the deepest wishes, the truest longing of my heart, asking what its ultimate, most wanted experience is. And now that I know, I shall honor it by making that happen. Because I suddenly realize that everything is possible when I am true to myself.

My questions then for you are a reflection of what I have learned and shared. Look at your daily life. Is there joy in it? What brings you joy, where do you feel most alive? How can you allow more of this in your world?

Where are you spending the most of your energy? Is this a job, relationship, location, situation that brings you joy? If not, can you alter this situation to be a healthy happy place for you?

If not, can you honor your heart by letting go, and choosing again?

If you were to quietly listen, what does your heart want most? Are you willing to honor yourself by allowing yourself to have it?

We are all where we choose to be.

I wish you happiness.

The Language of Spring

Spring, the season of new beginning, is slow to come to our city this year. I have spoken with so many people who feel they are ready for the warmer weather, ready for the warmth of love to consistently shine on their faces. But you cannot rush love, as you cannot tell a tree when to bloom. It will in its own divine time, bloom when it is ready.

Huge grey clouds have brought rain every day, drumming on tin roofs, snaking down the sides of streets and feeding the river until it’s swollen belly washes out the tumultuous rapids. The rain is like our tears, releasing what is needed to water our new dreams, a release that encourages growth. And under the Fir boughs, we rise from the fallen trees of our past, nourished by the things we once built and let go of. The sooner we let the past erode beneath us, the faster we can focus our energy into new growth and reach for the sun.

I watch the gnarled old apple tree sit quietly above the elderly man. They have both seen many seasons, have bloomed many times before today. Perhaps the tree waits for bees the way this man waits for someone to speak to. The girl walking into the coffee shop in a peach skirt is waiting for someone to notice her shoes. A baby less than two inches long waits for his mother to recognize his presence layers beneath her blue blouse. A child waits out in the park with a rainbow colored kite, squinting up at the sky, hoping for a lift of inspiration from the wind. Like the goose waiting on her nest for the dog to pass, everywhere there is a pregnant pause of anticipation. The dog intently watches his owner, waiting for him to toss the green Frisbee and begin the game again.

Perhaps we all wait for love in our own way.

These stories are continually being written, stories of separation and connection, joined like prayers being answered and intentions being realized. Waiting in line for her latte, the tall woman adjusts the hem of her blue blouse and as her hands pass over her belly she pauses, drawing in a startled breath. The girl in the peach skirt leaves the coffee shop and crosses the street with clicking footsteps and swishing hips. She pauses to talk to the little old man, who points to her shoes and says something that makes her smile. Above them, the first bees of the season enter the embrace of apple blossoms, indulging themselves in pollen and sunshine. A delighted dog barks in the distance as he bounds into the swollen river after a floating green Frisbee. The pair of proud geese now parade their tiny new beginnings - golden goslings out from under the shade of the apple tree, their feathers rustled by the warming wind that parts the clouds and begins to lift a rainbow colored bird into the sky.