Space in the Glass of Life

                                                                     

I've had a few ridiculously busy days lately.  Going at a clip from one thing to another, from morning until evening, fearing I will make the next appointment on time, I lose myself, my center.  Stress creeps in, an uninvited visitor.  I am reacting to what is happening around me, to me, without the time to process and feel at ease.  What am I doing?  Is this the way I want to live?

What I miss most about days like these is the space in my day for the unexpected: running into a friend and having a leisurely chat;  reading an article in the newspaper or a magazine that has caught my eye; taking in the fall foliage and appreciating the beauty around me.

These are the moments I want to have, the space to step fully into my life, embracing it and smiling in acknowledgement.  These are the moments that make me feel at peace.  I have a choice about how I schedule and spend my time.  I make better decisions when there is space in my life.  Can I wake up each day and have that space? 

I confess I have struggled with this for years, wanting to do a lot with my life, feeling energized and committed to family, friends, causes and work.  I want to make a real difference in the time I spend here.  My life is full.  It's when it teems over, the glass unable to hold the multitude of meetings and responsibilities, where everything gets less of me, not more, that the kind of life I want to live leaks out and I am left depleted.  It's a fine balance, this full glass and the leaky one.  That's where the space comes in:  if I do not fill the glass to the top and leave some space, chances are it will not spill over, even with the unexpected delights and mishaps of life. 

Hmmm . . .

What's It All About?

You can see that everyday spirituality does not result in a post every day--or even every week--or month!  So what is it all about?

If we accept that we are spiritual beings in a physical body (I realize that's a big "if" for a lot of people), then connecting to our spirituality is pretty important if we want to live the most happiest, most fulfilling and contented life.

The posts in this blog have illustrated times when I've felt spiritual or connected to that deep place inside of me.  Or they address topics about how we can be our best selves.

But the thing that's most difficult is how we make these connected times more and more part of our everyday lives.  So that's what I'm going to write about for awhile.

It's all about being conscious, about waking up to what is really going on in our lives and within ourselves.  Once you wake up, there's no going back.  And don't think you don't know that on a deeply intuitive level. In fact, many people run the other way by being so busy, altering their consciousness through drugs or alcohol, or living their lives in the past (regret) or the future (worry) that there is no room to be conscious about their lives today.  Right NOW.  No way they want to go there.

When we do go there, the payoff is BIG. No, it's way more than that.  But it does take courage and being honest with ourselves.  Opting to look in the mirror and see ourselves, warts and all, can be the decision of a lifetime.  No masks.  Nothing to take away the pain.  Just YOU.  It changes the way you see yourself, the world around you, other people.  Accepting yourself for who you are makes living in this sometimes crazy, mixed-up world a whole lot better.  Nothing is beyond your reach, not even happiness.

In the Moment of Waves

We all know that primordial sound of waves on the shore.  The ebb and flow, the never-ending cycles of time, of life.  A metaphor for the womb, for give and take, for life's struggles.

If you were to travel around the world experiencing waves lapping at different shores, would they sound the same?  Or would each have its own unique rhythm on a calm and sunny day? 

A wave crashing on the shore has many different components.  It furls close to shore, and at its loudest, crescendos onto land, where it quiets and then fizzes bubbles for several seconds before receding.  With every ebb and flow, the sea leaves its white latticework in the shallows, which never fully disappears but reforms with the next wave.  Every now and then there will be just a moment of silence, like the space between an in-breath and out-breath.  No two waves are ever the same.

Hearing the waves is a comfort, the sounds recurring over and over. The water brings an energy with it, an encouragement or perhaps an urgency.  There can be tenderness, with several waves merely lapping; lest I become too complacent the next may crash, sending water over my ankles and up to my knees.  The next minute the water, clear and unspoiled, feels like velvet on my feet.

I've been mystified by the crosshatch design left on the sand by the retreating waves.  I cannot understand why it appears that way all along the beach.  The air has a faintly briny smell which is only perceptible when the wind pauses.

Around the rocks is a grand slithering as smaller rocks and pebbles are pulled back with a mighty drag.  And there's a tucking in around the rocks in the gentler ebbs, where the slithering turns into a soft gurgle.  Hearing all the sounds together is a symphony, one that is made up as it goes along.  Sounds I love always and never tire of.

Relating to Mother (Nature)

                                                                        Sedona, AZ

Once up on a time, our ancestors’ survival depended on a close relationship with the natural world.  It was often a matter of life and death, not to mention losing an entire harvest of crops or being overcome by a severe storm when out hunting or traveling. 

Today, many of us today live in comfortable homes and work in climate-controlled offices high above the ground. We may go an entire day without venturing outside, and in the winter, people often arrive and leave work in the dark.  We depend on TV or the internet for news about the weather, and don’t have time or the wherewithal to look up from what’s distracting us to see a beautiful sunset or catch the rainbow after a storm. 

Being connected to the natural world helps us connect to our inner world.  When I work with clients, it’s one of the ways they begin to get reconnected to their own rhythms—they clue in to the natural rhythms of nature.  Walking grounds us.  Watching animals teaches us about who we are as human beings.  The natural world has it’s own sense of order and understanding.  How do the animals know when a storm is coming or danger is near?  First and foremost, they are aware—they need to be for their very survival.

When we are out enjoying nature, all of our senses are heightened.  We breathe in the fresh fall air, smelling the rich soil; we see the changing fall foliage, feel the breeze and hear the squirrels crunching leaves as they bury their nuts.  Our souls respond to the beauty of the natural world.  It stirs something deep inside—we feel awed, appreciative, and a sense of peace and calm.  

Losing our connection to nature is akin to losing ourselves.   Mother Nature supports us in many ways, offering all we need to sustain our physical and spiritual lives.   We need to remember she is there and to seek her out—all year round.

Everyday Presence

For those of you who followed my original blog, Spiritual Sabbatical, I’m creating this new one to talk about bringing consciousness and intention to our lives each and every day. We all have the ability to do this, which has far-ranging physical and psychological benefits, for ourselves and others. Most of us just need to be reminded.

 

What if once a day we. . . 

noticed something of beauty?

stopped to appreciate ourselves for one thing we did?

performed an act of kindness?

found a way to connect with a total stranger?

relied on our intuition?

did nothing for at least 60 seconds but observe what is going on around us?

It begins with being aware, being open. We have to look in order to see, to get our heads out of the Blackberry/iPad/computer/TV, to clear our minds.

When I’ve been working particularly hard at something, I’m all up in my head, and it feels as if my mind is somehow separate from my body. It feels heavy and full. That’s when I know I’m having a mind/body disconnect, and need to bring the energy down, to redistribute it so I can function at my best: go for a walk, stretch, do some quick jumping jacks, have a healthy snack, sit and close my eyes for a few minutes—anything to bring that energy down.

Just try it. Instead of focusing outward when you need to de-stress, go inward: Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and let it out very slowly. Do that two more times.

How do you feel?