I am One with It

What a hot day yesterday! Sleeping last night with the windows open, I woke this morning to thousands of birds singing their morning songs to each other. When I did my morning meditation, many of them were still singing. It was easy to feel peaceful, with this kind of accompaniment. Even though there were some things I was concerned about floating through in my mind, there was also this other part of me answering: yes, and listen to the world that you are one with!

When you go out in nature, there is not much that is not singing. The creek is singing a bubbling kind of song. The leaves in the trees are singing a dancing song that shifts and changes with the wind. Something is usually chirping or chattering this time of year -- birds or frogs or squirrels.

It is a good time to go out and take in the sounds and smells of the earth, reminding our animal bodies how we are connected to the earth, and how the earth supports and sustains us.
...
The singing birds, I am one with them,
and their celebration of the dawn.
The dancing leaves, I am one with these;
I am one with their dance and with their
play in shadow and new light.
The sprouting grasses-- I am one with the
sprouting and with their bold blades jutting
up toward the sky.
The dark soil beneath me, I am one with this,
too, and I bow to the worms, who remind me
how life steadily rises and falls through
the seasons. I bow to their blind search
for simple things like food and air, and
simple comforts like a cool night in spring,
when the birds are asleep and the people
are still, and the earth is wide and peaceful.

I bow to this. I am one with the searching,
I am one with the finding or the not finding.
I am one with seeing nothing and feeling only
the dark fertility of soil around me, like a womb
or like a grave, knowing it is both the womb
and the grave, all at once. I am one with this.
I am one with old self dying and the new self
being born. I am one with this. I bow to this.

I am one with the singing, the celebration
of the dawn. I am one with the robin, who
comes hopping into the yard with a worm
for her babies. I am one with all of it.

Watering Seeds of Thought

I planted my tulip bulbs a couple of days ago. They are hidden, now, deep in the ground, where is it dark and damp and hopefully food-rich enough for them to come up next spring.

I was reminded in planting them of how much like bulbs and seeds our thoughts and intentions are. We put them "out there" into the ground of our lives, we water them with our regular attention and focus, and eventually we get growth. Maybe even beautiful blooms.

For many years, now, I've experienced life as having an echo effect. I may have a conversation with a friend about, say, living a writer's life, and a client, or a television show, or some other source will appear discussing the same issue. Earlier this week, I was coming to an acceptance and love of how multi-faceted my interests are (music, writing, coaching, healing, etc.) rather than being a master of one. That same evening, I was with someone who told me how she was coming to love and embrace how multi-faceted her interests are, and how it is okay to not be the master of one. This echo effect has happened so consistently, that I no longer believe in separate lives, separate processes, separate thinking. We are all inter-related. It is a co-arising life that we lead.

Right now, our country and media is filled with negative thinking and deep feelings of loss and lack. It is important to honor these emotions. However, it is also important not to dwell there. Now it is more important than ever to nurture those bulbs and seeds of thinking that are positive and life-giving. When we do this, it is not only for ourselves. It is for the vast, interconnected web of life that we are held in.

Whose World are we Living In Anyway?

Over the holiday weekend, I went to my parents' house in Pennsylvania, and came home with a box of tulip bulbs, with little green shoots coming out the tops. They are sitting in my entry way, awaiting my attention. I will plant these to come up next year, as the season has passed for planting bulbs for this year's blooming.

Right now, my life is like this box of bulbs. What was no longer needed has been dug out. Certain ways I was used to being, and certain methods I have used in my healing work have been extracted by the Divine Gardener. What is yet to form has not yet bloomed. I feel like I am in this box, waiting. It's not a comfortable place to be. Rather disconcerting, in fact, to the aspect of the self that likes things to show up just like they always had before. I have not written here for some time, because I had nothing to write. What can you write, when you are sitting in a box, waiting for the new life to form?

Well, this morning, I got an email from my friend Dani Antman, with a poem that came to her as she was waking. Dani is a Kabbalistic healer, an artist, and a teacher of the Tree of Life. We have shared our spiritual path for many years. I was so relieved to get her poem. I asked her if I could share it with you. Here it is:

When "MY" and WORLD" disappear
Divine sparks ignite shells
Burning around the heart
What remains
Witnesses

This is like a koan, to be held in contemplation. What is "my world?" What makes me think that "my world" is a singular entity, separate from the intricate web of life that is all of our worlds housed in the Big House of Divine Love? I found this poem comforting. Letting go of how I want "my world" to show up ignites Divine sparks! Divine sparks are far more exciting than anything I could create on my own while waiting in this box.

The last line of the poem says that what remains are "witnesses." We are truly witnesses here, to our own unfolding, to the unfolding of each other, and to the life unfolding around us. We watch, and participate in, how the Divine uproots us and boxes and plants us where we are meant to be planted. Jai Ma! Hallelujah! I don't have to do it alone. Nobody does.

There are a lot of bulbs in my box. They smell of the earth, and of the yellow dancing flowers of next spring. How wonderful that they are willing to leave their old world behind and expand into a new, unknown garden. Oh, to be as gracious and willing as the daffodils!

Holy Breath Meditation

Call on Ya, the Holy Essence, with every fiber of your being.
Call on that which holds your heart in a vice grip, asking you to turn toward -- to breathe -- to be -- not only in the hour you feel this holiness but in every hour, in every minute, in every moment.

There is no time in your human encounter with earth in which your breath is not synchronized with the Holy Breath of life. There is no moment that is absent of holiness. Look around you, and see if you can find a hole in the fabric of Ya.

It is only a matter of turning toward -- breathing-- and resting all of your being in the awareness of how holy you have become. The grass is only green because the Beloved has made it so. You only breathe because the Beloved wills it so.
Every moment belongs to the Holy Essence. Call on Ya, and breathe the Holy Breath. Do not wait. Do not wait.

...
Breathing meditation:
Note: Ya is an ancient Hebraic name for God (Yahweh). You can replace with this name with what name/form you prefer to meditate on.

Breathing meditation: As you breathe in, say in your mind: Breathing in I breathe the Holy breath. As you breathe out, say in your mind: Breathing out, I am one with Ya. As you breathe in, say: Breathing in I breathe the Holy breath. As you breathe out, say: Breathing out, I am filled with peace.

Eventually you can drop the "Breathing in I ..." and just simply repeat, as you breathe:
I breathe the Holy breath
I am one with Ya
I breathe the Holy breath
I am filled with peace.