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Her Graciousness Touched Me

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Memorial Day, 2012

Today is a holiday here in the US. It’s Memorial Day, the day we remember those who have given their lives in service to this country. Mid-day, around 2:00, I decided to walk over to the Presidio Graveyard, to sit for a moment in remembrance. I’d read a few things online about the holiday, and so many comments on these articles and posts were political in nature; thoughts about war and whether it was necessary, about which president had caused the most deaths, etc., and I wanted to just get away from all of that and go remember the men and women who have died in service.

The very odd thing is that I couldn’t find the graveyard. I must have made a wrong turn, somewhere. In doing so, I came upon the Inn at the Presidio, a new Inn on the grounds that is stunningly beautiful. I went inside and roamed around to see the Inn.

Alongside me was a woman who was also looking at the Inn. She was dressed, beautifully, mostly in black with a touch of red and yellow, and wearing a dressy hat, the kind women used to wear. She doesn’t live in San Francisco, but she has come to the city many times on Memorial Day to place flowers on the graves of three of her family members – her uncle, grandfather and grandmother. She said she’s been coming for a number of years. She had just come from the graveyard. She seemed introspective and had a gracefulness about her.

As I headed back outside to go to the graveyard, I thought about this woman. I was taken by her dedication to remembering these family members; that she flies from out of town to visit their graves and place flowers. I wondered about how our holidays and rituals can move away from the very reason they were first established and become somewhat generic in nature…about BBQs and  baseball and getting away.

For whatever reason (if any), even though I headed out to find it again, I never did find the graveyard. I felt a little lost, something I rarely am with regard to finding places. I’m usually the one that can find anything simply by my internal radar. I ended up walking for a while, but felt lost amongst all the white wood and red-tiled buildings. I’m struck by the fact I got lost; yet, what seems to have really impacted me, was this woman and her family.

Many times when I write a post, at the very end everything makes sense. I get to the end and the ribbon to wrap it all up appears out of nowhere. No ribbon, here. No sense-making.

Perhaps, my visit was more about considering what it means to remember and to witness how these deaths have touched life. I just keep remembering her graciousness and the very clear way she loved those who died serving.

She touched me. Her graciousness touched me.

 

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A Sacred Duty

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Rose

“There is a relentless search for the factual and this quest often lacks warmth or reverence.
At a certain stage in our life we may wake up to the urgency of life, how short it is.
Then the quest for truth becomes the ultimate project.
We can often forage for years in the empty fields of self-analysis and self-improvement
and sacrifice much of our real substance for specks of cold, lonesome factual truth.

The wisdom of the tradition reminds us that if we choose to journey on the
path of truth, it then becomes a sacred duty to walk hand in hand with beauty.” 
~ John O’Donohue

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When the Soul Ripens

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Ripening

It’s been just about two weeks since my return from Molokai. Things that I experienced there have been ripening inside me. The land holds you. I felt as if I was being pulled down into it. My time there was rich and fertile, salty and soft.

Many of you who followed along with me during this time discovered what it is to belong to the land where you are. Each land has its own power. I’ve wondered what you discovered about your land, both body and place.

We are a land unto ourselves. Our bodies are graced with hills and valleys, sweet water and stars in our eyes.

On Molokai, I saw double rainbows, watched shooting stars, listened to the birdsong, and walked on the land.

I sat with really lovely, beautiful women, and bathed in open-air tubs.

I felt the softness of the ocean water, water that touched and caressed me in ways my body has longed for.

I ate the most divine food straight out of a garden so filled with love that it radiated through the bell-graced gates.

I stood in the swirl of wind and saltwater where Maui, Lanai, and Molokai meet. Here, I felt energy so strong that I felt fully alive, fully pulsing. I felt a joy of connecting, a joy of opening to the wild forces that are bountiful in a place such as Hawaii.

I felt loved. Land and water and sunshine can do that. Place has power. It has character. It is love.

And in all these things…

Something deep awakened and stirred within me…the wildness of my own soul.

I haven’t quite known how to write about my time on Molokai. Yes, I shared my day-to-day with you. And, other more personal things that occurred have continued to stir deep within the cells of this body and soul.

It is good to wait for the ripening before we speak, write or share about something that has not yet worked its way to fruition.

As I felt words stirring and the desire to write, I was listening to this song, Where Soul Meets Body by Catie Curtis. It’s one of the songs on one of the playlists from the Awaken the Wild eCourse.

As I listened to the lyrics, I realized they were telling the story of my experience of opening to this wild place where soul meets body of self and earth, this place where I came to know the land of my body and the land of the earth as one.

“I want to live where soul meets body
And let the sun wrap its arms around me and
Bathe my skin in water cool and cleansing
And feel
Feel what its like to be new…”

I feel new. I feel reborn. I let the sun wrap its arms around me.

“So brown eyes I’ll hold you near.”

I saw, and now see, the brown eyes of this body in the mirror, again, anew each day as if for the first time.

“So brown eyes I’ll hold you near
Cause you’re the only sound I want to hear
A melody softly soaring through this atmosphere.”

Like beautiful globes of fruit, we ripen as we live. We are filled with juice so sweet and love so deep. Coming to know oneself anew is learning to listen to the sound of your own voice, the beat of your  heart, the longing in your belly, the calling of your own soul…the melody that only you are singing.

This is the divine spark within you that sings the song you are here to sing.

“…if the silence takes you,
Then I hope it takes me too.”

This relationship within, between lover and beloved, is the virgin reborn, a woman coming to know herself unto herself. Standing on her own, a whole being, she can truly be in relationship with a world longing to love her.

“I do believe its true
That there are roads left in both of our shoes
But if the silence takes you
Then I hope it takes me too

So brown eyes I’ll hold you near
Cause you’re the only sound I want to hear
A melody softly soaring through this atmosphere“

And, even though we walk our own paths and have miles to go, we can meet in this place. If the silence takes you, I long to have it take me, too. I can hold you. Here we stand together, whole women, each of us unto ourselves, learning to be wholly and holy real with each other. We’re discovering this together.

And, in this discovery, we also learn how to be wholly and holy real with men, in whatever way we find ourselves in relationship with them.

Whole beings knowing, honoring and loving whole beings.

And, You?

What’s the melody softly soaring through the atmosphere of your soul? Quiet the inner voices that fear you hearing the song you are here to sing, and take some time to listen. ‘Cause I want to hear you sing it.

::

I couldn’t find a great version of Catie singing this song, and even though this is a Death Cab for Cuties song, I love her version. And, if you want to hear the audio, please sign up for Awaken the Wild. It’s my treat. Women and men have loved, and are loving, this eCourse. I hope you will and do.

 

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To Live as I Dance

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A river so deep

Since I’ve been back from Molokai, I’ve been out of sorts.

Molokai is a powerful place. The land there speaks to the soul in a language my mind neither hears nor understands. My soul did, and does, and it’s insisting on changing the status quo.

I discovered an affinity for the land. Yes, I totally had it before…a longing for the land of Hawaii. Now, I know there is a deep river that runs between my soul and that land. A river so deep that the conversation continues even when my body is back home, so many miles away.

So all I can do is dance to the new rhythm pouring forth. I know how to let go into the dance, to trust the dance. For this, I am grateful.

When I first started dancing ten years ago, I had to force myself to stay. I would go, wanting to be there, but when I got there, another voice inside would want to leave right away. I was embarrassed to move, embarrassed to trust my own body’s way of expression.

It took months for me to soften to my own expression enough so that this internal battle began to die down. It took years to begin to feel such deep joy that now feel. It took time and trust. Trust in the dance. Trust in my body. Trust in the soul’s call to the dance floor.

Now, I know how to let go into the dance. For this, I will always be grateful.

I now see there is no difference between the dance floor and the earth’s floor. To live as I dance is now what I hunger for.

Who cares what others think? Do we really care? Deep down inside, do we really care what others think? That fear swims on the surface, but way deep inside where the soul clamors to be free, do we really care? Will that fear of judgment keep us from experiencing the pure joy of movement, of expression, of gratitude for the gift of being alive?

::

And, you?

The soul guides us to rise up and embody our own beauty and nobility.

It pushes and prods. It calls and yearns, and somehow, somewhere, and in some way we begin to listen.

How is your soul guiding you to move? To listen? To touch? To love? To express?

Somewhere within, you feel the call. So dance. Just dance. With music. Without music. It makes no difference.

 

::

Dance when you’re broken open.
Dance when you’ve torn the bandage off.
Dance in the middle of fighting.
Dance in your blood.
Dance when you’re perfectly free.
Struck, the dancer hears a tambourine inside her,
like a wave that crests into foam at the very top,
Begins.
Maybe you don’t hear that tambourine,
or the tree leaves clapping time.
Close the ears on your head,
that listen mostly to lies and cynical jokes.
There are other things to see, and hear.
Music. Dance.
A brilliant city inside your soul!

–Rumi

::

 

 

Thank you to Charlie Korda for sharing this video and poem.

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The True Mother Within

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Mother

Mother – never our ideal, never that whom we hoped for…really hoped for.

I learned this as my mother was dying. I realized she would never be what I had always hoped she would be. No mother can, nor will. No human can fill that mother longing within us. We mothers try. We mothers fall short. We mothers beat ourselves up for this.

What mother can?

This past week, I was held in the lap of this mother that is the bountiful presence that births life. She is the tree whose arms wrapped around space like a vine wraps itself around the trellis. She is the sky whose stars shot through the night sky. She is the garden, whose birthing beds produced a magical harvest. She is the silkiest, saltiest water to ever embrace this woman’s body.

This past week, I was held in the lap of Molokai. This magical island is deeply rooted and grounded. Her energy is of the earth in a way there are no words to describe. She is wild and untamed and I came to know this place within myself – wild and untamed.

What if she is the creator, the One that gives birth to all that is?

What if she holds all the world’s children?

What if this mother is the mother you long for, the mother that can hold you in the ways you long to be held, can hear you in the ways you long to be heard, can touch you in the ways you long to be touched?

What if She is the only mother who can do so?

How would your life change if you came to know this?

How would your relationship with your human mother change?

How would your relationship change with yourself, and with the world, if you knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you are already held in the most bountiful lap, the most embraceable hug, the most adoring look possible?

This Mother’s Day, may you know Her embrace; may you know her bounty, may you know her adoration, may you know her love. May you come to know that your human mother cannot fill your deepest cravings to be mothered – but the Mother can and she is here, right now, holding you in her most bountiful lap. And it is through Her embrace that we remember the true mother within.

May we offer gratitude and love to our beautiful and bountiful Mother Earth…and to all the world’s mothers.

 

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The Power of Place

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The power of place has become clearer and clearer to me over the past few years. I’ve traveled to India, Italy, Ireland and Hawaii over the past five years, and each place has opened me to its power and beauty. Each place has its own unique fragrance and power.

This week, I’m on the island of Moloaki, one of the smaller Hawaiian islands. It is one of the more wild places, too. I’m here for a women’s retreat, a retreat on feminine wisdom. So far, the days have been graced with sun and wind, rain and rainbows, women and lots of laughter, touch and wisdom.

This morning, a few of us traveled to the Kalaupapa lookout to watch the sunrise. The spot is beautiful. The overlook over looks Kalaupapa, a village originally home to people who had leprosy. It’s on the Kalaupapa Peninsula at the base of the highest sea cliffs in the world, dropping 3,315 feet (1,010 m) to the Pacific Ocean.

The sunrise was brilliant. The cliffs were amazing. This land is enchanting.

Where we are retreating is in the center of the island, not close to the beaches. When I first saw this, I felt a twinge of ‘oh, no’, I want to walk on the beach. And then, after a walk on the land, seeing the native Koa trees, listening to the gorgeous birdsong, and hearing the barking deer, I began to understand that I am here to connect with the whole land, earth and sky, water and stars, moon and animals, and of course the brilliant women who are here.

The invitation is to connect to the whole of land and life that is here. The power of place can’t be denied and has much to teach us. Each place has its own unique soul.

Consider your place. Where you live. What is the nature and power of your place? Of your land? Of the land of your own body, too? How are these connected? I’d love to know of your experience.

 

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