Dear Friends,
As we journey through January, I am feeling a strong pull to clear away the thick web of news, events, constant self-talk, busyness. Instead I am drawn to slowing down and feeling myself simply breathe. In everything I do -- simply breathe. It is as though something in me knows there is another way to be in the world, in this time. In this season of winter, in this season of so much worldly disruption. I am being pulled toward the wonderful open feeling of space that is right here when I don't fill it. I write that and I worry it sounds too lofty or overly blissful. Or maybe it sounds disengaged from the realities of what is happening in the world. It really isn't and I am fully aware of what is going on. Much of which is more disturbing or unsettling than not. To not read more news than is necessary, to stay off of social media as much as possible, to enjoy the sound of the wintery wind, to not think of improving, but to rest in whatever this place is -- this has been my siren call in these first days of the year. I share it because embracing it feels so right and I know from experience that if I am feeling this call, most likely so are others.
A dear friend gave me a book by Thich Nhat Hanh, one that I haven't yet read. It has short daily words of wisdom. One paragraph or two. In the past, with the overwhelm of the busyness of life, I might not have enjoyed the brevity of these passages as I am now. Just taking a line or maybe just a word from it and letting it awaken something in me feels like all I need. Choosing to let it. That is enough these days. Simplicity in a time that is far from simple.
I stuck to my intention of removing Facebook from my phone on New Year's Eve and don't regret it. I imagine myself going more and more in that direction. Embracing more quiet. The world doesn't need my fight. At least I don't think it does. I'm not a fighter, though I know it is possible for me to be one. It is in me. What I know is that my output is more useful in other ways. It always has been.
The universe desperately needs beneficent energy. Don't you think so? To be a force of steadiness and calm? To be present and therefore, grateful? Isn't that what we need? Too Pollyanna? My critic might say so, driven by fear, but not the part of me that is more connected to the whole of life -- the part that understands impermanence, humility, connection, grace. This part of me knows how powerful it is to be able to clear some space and be present. To enjoy the simple. To stop insisting on having my way or fighting because it is not going my way. You want to go faster than me on the highway, I'll move over. "You go ahead," I say. There is plenty of space.
What does it mean to you to allow space in your life? In your daily movements, in your interactions, in your thoughts? How does it change your experience to slow down and do just one thing? To receive just one thing?
My invitation this month is to welcome space, which often means we need to clear a space of anything extra that takes away from our experience. Remove the clutter, the extraneous, the opinions, the chatter, the improvements, the lists and just be. You'll still get what is needed done, but it is likely to be a lot more fulfilling. Simpler. Just take one thing and enjoy that one thing. Let your eyes open to enjoy what's here because there is so much that is wonderful to behold, to see, to feel.
The perfect lines in the shadow on the wall as the sunlight streams through the blinds. That is wonderful. The sun rising behind the mountain, casting a pink blaze behind the bare trees in the distance. That is wonderful. The calm voice of my meditation teacher. That is wonderful. Recalling someone's smile. That is wonderful. Can you give yourself the gift of making space to experience these things? How might you clear space so that you may be filled?
I'll close with this poem by Martha Postlethwaite:
Clearing
Do not try to save
the whole world
or do anything grandiose.
Instead, create
a clearing
in the dense forest
of your life
and wait there
patiently,
until the song
that is your life
falls into your own cupped hands
and you recognize and greet it.
Only then will you know
how to give yourself to this world
so worthy of rescue.
Warmly,
Jean
