The Game of Life

Yesterday I gathered with a couple friends to catch up. As the evening wore on, we ended up creating and playing a game. (I didn’t have a hand in the creation of it, only in the enthusiasm to play!)

There were 5 buckets, from short to tall lined up one behind the other. A sixth bucket was over to the side of the line up – the final bucket to score in and win the game. We used crushed cans to aim into the buckets.

You had to go in order, from first to sixth, making each ‘basket’ to win the game. We had a lot of fun playing, cheering each other on, and giving each other tips for better aim.

I’ve been thinking all morning about the fun we had and about what I learned during the game. My friend Holly kept telling me about follow-through. And how to step my foot forward. She kept talking about how my body was a line-staying in line with where you want the can to go.

Every time my throw was extra wobbly or off track, she’d say something about it spinning the wrong way. My hand turned right at the end, or I released the can too early or too late.

I’d heard these things before, I remembered. Frisbee, bowling, corn-hole.  Someone would say something about follow-through.

I listened closely to her, I tried to understand what she meant. It didn’t come naturally to me. The follow through with my arm felt unnatural, but satisfying in a strange way. She said that follow-through keeps the momentum.

Of course we couldn’t help but notice how her tips about throwing related to life. And at the end of playing this game for hours, I learned these things: Focus, intention, follow-through, steadiness, and more focus.

It was remarkable how throwing a crushed can into a bucket became such a revelatory experience. As I stood there, can in hand, the task seemed impossible. How was I supposed to make this happen? How does anyone make this happen? Heaving something into the air and then somehow it’s supposed to magically land into a basket??

Logically of course, I knew it wasn’t that special. It was physics. It wasn’t a big deal. I saw my friend Billy toss the cans with an effortless throw and they would easily sink into wherever he aimed.

But standing there, it felt impossible. My first few throws brought back memories of some past version of me. The one that “couldn’t do it”. Really, she didn’t want to try. It felt like my body didn’t work that way. Once I started weight lifting, training, running – I realized that my body could do anything. Three months of ‘quarantine’ had given way to that disconnected me. The one that didn’t want to connect the dots.

I thought, okay, if I just keep doing this enough times, I’ll eventually know how to get it in. There was truth in that, my body was getting accustomed to what I was doing with every throw. But there was Holly, guiding me with her words. I was doubtful, what difference would follow-through make? Releasing the can at the right time? It seemed arbitrary.

And yet, I listened and completely detached from the idea of it working (just trying to do what she said and feeling silly about it) and the can went into the bucket! I was shocked. I was empowered. I was motivated to understand, to get this right.

So I took my turn again and stood, looking at my targets. I realized I had to focus. I had to tune everything out except my objective. I looked at the first bucket and I zoomed in with my attention. I felt around it with my eyes. I imagined something flying into the bucket and landing. I felt the distance between us and the trajectory the can would have to follow to meet its aim.

Okay, that helped. I got that part. So I threw my can. It landed far off target. “You didn’t follow through.” Holly would say. Or, ‘you were in line but you put too much into it (or not enough)’.

Hm, so my focus, attention, and visualizing was only part of the puzzle. My body had to link up with my mind. It was like all the parts of me had to understand each other. All with the same goal.

I got a little better. Still right before releasing I would lose focus, or not pay attention to which way my hand was turned.

More focus, more follow through, more holistic attention of my body and mind. Too much focus of my mind on the goal and I would lose connection with my body. Being too much in my body and I would have a nice throw, but not hit the target.

The sun set and we continued playing into the darkness. We were determined to finish this round-someone would have to sink that last basket. The sixth and final bucket in the line up. A terracotta planter that was rapidly becoming almost impossible to see in the darkness. “Just throwing into a dark void.”

We stayed committed. Desperately waiting for someone to end the game. And eventually, before we all gave up, a can flew into the dark air and landed into the planter with a satisfying thud.

We couldn’t believe it! We ran over to make sure it went in, it did! We high-fived all around and rejoiced. Billy said a weight had been lifted once we realized it went in, we were free. We had done the seemingly impossible. Dunked crushed cans into far away assorted buckets and planters in the darkness of night.

On the drive home I kept smiling, thinking about the fun we’d had. I thought about the intimate mind-space I tuned into, as I zoomed in on the bucket and felt into the objective of my can landing inside of it.

The last basket I made, I had adjusted my hand so that it wasn’t spinning the can right before I released it. I felt how everything was in line then. I was focused, I felt into my objective, I stood in absolute presence, I linked my mind with my body’s movements. It felt sure. Like everything was connected in one crystallized, fluid moment.

I thought about Holly’s words and how they made so much sense. Her tips were helping me to undo my distraction, my own contorting of my knowing. I seemed to sabotage myself in my defiance of focus.

Part of me resisted all the parts of me syncing up. Or lending my absolute focus to a task, especially to completion. I wanted to have bad form and make the basket anyway. I wanted to not really try. I felt shame in the trying. Shame in having good form. Shame in tuning into my objective with such undistracted determination.

Every time, I felt this little flutter of disbelief. A little whisper to give up, to not try and just laugh it off, or that it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter.

But it felt like it did matter. I wanted it to. I wanted to hold steady in my intention. I wanted to stand in that sweet spot of focus and follow through and feel my Being vibrate with absolute clarity.

I wondered in what areas of my life I listened to that disbelief. Where is it that I lose focus right before release? Where is it that I give way to haziness instead of clarity?

Life is much like a made up (albeit amazing) game of crushed cans and buckets. None of it really matters and yet, it matters so much. Every moment we get to stand in absolute presence and clarity of intention. Using our attention like a magical tool to hone in on our objective.

Although making the goal was exciting, it was standing there ‘at the plate’ preparing to throw my can that kept me engaged. The endless trying to get it right. Tweaking and readjusting and playing with attention and mind-body connection every time.

Is that what we’re here for? This practice in the alchemy of focus, attention, connection, and follow-through?

It’s as though life sets up endless made-up games for us to play. Some with higher stakes than others. Sometimes it’s a familiar game and sometimes it seems impossible. But the process seems the same. You step up to the plate. Assess. Focus. Hone in. Know your objective. Prepare your stance. Listen. Connect all the parts of you in knowing your objective and…give it a shot.

 

What is Power?

I’ve been trying to stay near water. Bodies of water or even ceramic mugs of water. I feel as though a fire has been ignited inside of me and it dances wildly almost of its own accord.

I made a promise to myself before. That I would always be a light, no matter what was happening around us. I stayed steady on this path of light and yet something calls to me. Something wild and roaring.

Usually I can look up ahead, to see where the energy is going. The outcome, the next slide in this powerpoint of life. And although I can go there, I feel called to the process-not the result.

Energy waves are lighting up, turning and weaving into themselves and I feel them calling. I want to swim into them, to move in unison with their dance. A voice inside keeps reminding me to look ahead, look to the intended outcome.

I want to be a voice of peace, of respite…but this fire won’t let me. This doesn’t feel like a time of respite. It feels like a time of activation. To speak my intentions loudly.

I find it strange being a person of peace wearing the armor of a warrior. But that is how I feel. I want to sit in meditation and practice devotion and I also want to stand firm in my beliefs, to walk forward with fortitude, to raise my voice to truth.

I find no flexibility in the issues at hand. Only one lane, one truth. I have many seeing eyes within me and yet they are fixed on the same knowing – immovable.

Earlier today I stood on the muddy ground of a partially drained lake. I was teetering between depression and inspiration. Madness and clarity.

I listened to the music coming through my headphones. The beat and the words lifted my thoughts to the domain of spirit. I let my body dance over the saturated ground. I raised up my arms and let my hands change formation over the background of the blue sky. The wind came through and whipped my shirt around me, flapping like a bird’s wings.

I wanted to fall to my knees in gratitude and devotion, but instead I let that feeling run through my body. I freely contorted and swayed as union swept through me.

After reaching exhaustion I looked up into the sky and back down again at the ground I danced on. What power is there but the power of creation? The power that breathes life into the universe, into our world.

I felt the seemingly endless depths of the earth beneath me. I felt inside of it the secrets of life. I crouched down, feeling the mud on my hands. Tell me your secrets, Great Earth. The good ones. The secrets of love and union. The secrets of patience and harmony.

What power is there but the power of the oneness that breathes life into us all? Where shall I go for help when creation sits waiting and ready to listen, eternally?

The power in me is the power in you, inside us all, equally.

Let love prevail. Let love’s voice be so loud that all else is silenced. Let those who know truth move forward on a clear and steady path. Let them be uplifted, held, and strengthened. Help us to reflect the love that you are, especially in areas veiled in darkness. Let your light guide us, let it be heard, let it be seen, let it be known. Help us to exemplify the oneness that we all are in how we treat each other, in our politics and policies, in our communities, in our relationship to the natural world. 

The power inside of us, under the disguises of flesh and bone, is one. It speaks with one voice. Let that voice be heard. Let us all be inspired to move and speak in reflection of that voice.

Spirituality and Current Events

What role does spirituality play when the material world commands so much of our attention? Is there still time or room for spirit when our world is roaring with noise and emotion?

I often distance myself from the news and media. If not physically, than emotionally. As I read things, to inform myself, I temper my reactivity. I do this so that I can see clearly, so that I can process the information rather than be swayed by how the person relaying it wants me to feel.

I’ve been practicing this for so many years and it has served me well. I speak and act when I feel inspired and only from a place of clarity. When I have done otherwise in the past, I’ve always come away feeling “off” or not like myself.

In the past few days I’ve felt my emotions rise over me like the waves of an angry ocean. I listened to them. I felt with them. I let myself rise into rage and fall into sadness.

I couldn’t sit down. I couldn’t sit with this. I wanted to check in with spirit but, not yet. I wasn’t ready. I wanted to be angry. I wanted to educate myself on what was being said and to understand what was happening.

And as my waters quieted, I could hear those impulses coming from beneath the surface. They were steady, clear, and sure.

I felt into the depths of the energy field around us, I listened. And I thought…spirituality isn’t about denying or looking away from that which needs to be seen. To me, it’s about listening even more deeply. Feeling deeply into that which is asking to be heard.

So here’s a practice for you that might be of use right now. After you’ve felt your highest pitch of emotions. When you have a moment of respite, sit with yourself. All those emotions were telling you something, paving the way for change.

Ask yourself, what do I want to see in this world? What feels right to me? Who needs to be uplifted? What needs to change?

Focus on the change you would like to see. Feel it out. See it in your mind. Hold it and set it into your heart. Now have an intention:

This vision will guide my words. This vision will guide my actions. My beliefs support this vision. This vision will guide how I interact with the world. Not only will I be the change I wish to see, but I will be an active participant influencing that change in others. I will participate naturally, organically as guided by my vision. I will know it so well, that I can’t help but weave it into everything I touch.   

Do not be afraid or overwhelmed. We are no strangers to unrest, or even chaos. The natural world is full of chaos and yet, completely in harmony with itself. We move in waves of change, always striving for better.

There is a place inside of you that is steady. It is calm. Close your eyes and listen, you’ll find it. It’s humming in tune with love and knowing. It connects you with the next step in our evolution. It connects you with all the hearts that are there, ready and waiting.

We have never, and will never, live in a Utopian society.  Why? Because we are dynamic beings. Our needs will always change. We will always discover more, learn more, change our minds about what is right and what we want. Perfection is not the goal, but improvement is absolutely the goal.

It takes listening, flexibility, and believing in our ability to be better than before. This is how life moves. We can do this, because we know how. We’re really good at it. It’s just time for the next update, and here we are, Ready.

Please Lord, Don’t Let Me Be a Liar.

After my run today I put on some music, a flowy skirt, and started dancing in front of a mirror outside. I could smell the sweat that glistened on my skin. I looked down at my feet as they lifted and dropped to the beat of the music. Funny-looking feet I thought. They looked like they belonged treading on wild ground. In wild fields of grass or desert or forest.

They weren’t slender and careful, but hearty and loud. The Wrong feet I thought. They must be wrong. They should be more beautiful, more lady like. My feet seemed more suited to be tree roots than dainty wings for my body to use to glide over the earth.

I watched as they fell, the soles of my feet curving over the ground below. I looked and saw how with every step they became one with the earth below. There was no reluctance in that connection, no hesitation. They bounded down as though earth was reconnecting to itself.

I thought that was quite nice. It’s nice how sturdy they made me feel. It’s nice how the earth seems to know them. I figured it wasn’t for me to judge, this relationship between my feet and the earth. They seemed to get along so well, maybe the earth didn’t think they were Wrong at all. Maybe the earth loved them as it welcomed their thud onto its surface.

I watched them again and they seemed rather…lovely. I imagined my ancestors stomping across their fields, with these same sturdy soles. Maybe they liked how well their feet wrapped over the ground. Molding to its form and keeping their gait steady.

I saw my feet through different eyes and I loved them. I looked down and whispered ‘thank you’.

My eyes moved upward as I surveyed the rest of my body. It too seemed sturdy. It seemed large, with thick thighs and full branches for arms. I watched as it danced. It announced its presence with every slide of my hips and whip of my hands. As though the dance was an affirmation of life, of presence. It yelled to the air around it, I AM. It whipped itself around as though shedding its boundaries of skin and flesh. Resounding in its message to the sky and to the trees, We Are.

Its dance seemed to be one of understanding. Understanding the relation of All Things. The earth under my soles, my body and the air around it, the sun shining off my skin, the trees exhaling life, and the insects and birds echoing that dance all around me.

It didn’t seem so Wrong either, this thick body. I liked the way it moved, like thick resin slowly slipping down the bark of a tree. And fast sometimes like a woodpecker hungrily tapping its way to sustenance.

I liked feeling this way…natural. I felt like a human, like a woman, like an animal. I wasn’t rushing to cover up my scent with deodorizers and all manner of fragrance. I wasn’t covering up my curves and jiggles with fabric and binding them with elastic. My hair stayed frizzy and knotted into a loose bun atop my head.

Could I stay here? Here, where I felt real. Would I have to be a liar again? To stop dancing and feeling my feet in the soil. Soaking myself again in fragrance and paint and a courteous demeanor. Would I rip my heart away from the trees and the sky and train it to stay quiet and find solace in the validation of society?

I didn’t want to be a liar again. I didn’t want to zip myself up in a body bag of deception. Please Lord, don’t let me be a liar. Don’t let me forget.

I want to learn the language of all of nature and to let it float from my tongue. I want my skin to radiate the truth of the earth and all it knows about who we are.

Could I live truly? Or would I slip back into ‘good enough’ and ‘normal’.

I wanted to yell to myself to find a man who was real too. Someone I wouldn’t have to lie to. Someone I wouldn’t have to appease. Someone who was awake. An animal like me. Whose feet knew the curve of the earth and whose skin had befriended the air around it. Someone who had a secret knowing with the sun, like I had a secret knowing with the moon. And in this, we would smile.

If you see me walking on the street or laying in a field somewhere, yell out to me. Ask if I am a liar today. Ask me if I speak the language of the trees or the deception of man. Point to the sky and remind me of the sun and the moon and how their light knows the bumps and valleys of my skin.

In this, I would be so grateful and hope to respond that I remember who I am today. I am not a liar. But please, ask me again tomorrow.

Gathering Faith [A Poetic Take]

I sit here next to a big tree with white flowers just past their blooming stage. The tree buzzes with bees and wasps and a bird sits inside, singing a long song.

For a week or so, I feel like I’ve been in a cave of sorts. Quiet, buried, still. I tried not to speak with anyone. I didn’t go on my usual runs or do my weight training. I barely danced or even woke up before late afternoon.

I felt all I was doing before slip away beneath my feet, unsure whether I was lifting off the ground or whether the ground was sinking. I meditated and I tried to do some things that kept me at least a little awake to the world.

The pulse of my life’s heartbeat seemed to have slowed and barely made a ripple as it flowed through my being. I was still getting insights, deeper understanding and knowing, and yet I was far away.

The lens focused on my life had zoomed out, far away from any specifics I was nurturing before. I had a theory that perhaps I was feeling my life’s movement. Maybe I was changing direction. Perhaps I had to slow down and zoom out to make some kind of shift.

Yesterday, I felt the energy quicken again. That feeling when you’re trying to solve a problem and you’re looking at all the pieces and suddenly, it all becomes clear. You see which pieces need to move where and the flow of Answer whips through you.

I couldn’t see the pieces specifically, but I could feel them. I could feel myself preparing for something. The shapeless started taking shape in my mind and that same lens starting zooming back in.

Where would I go from here? What was next for me as the country started to reawaken?

My mind went a thousand different ways, flurrying into a panic. And just as quickly as I rose off the ground in a tornado of confusion, a stream of thought gently laid me back down.

Just take it one step at a time. 

Oh yes, that incredibly simple advice that I often blow right past in my attempts to control the uncontrollable.

I felt such relief. Yes, I could take it one step at a time. I could feel my way through. I’m good at that. I could focus on today and trust that what I need for tomorrow will arrive.

I remembered that I am not in charge of the universe, or this planet or even the flow of my own life. I’m responsible for my thoughts, my intentions, and my willingness to trust and follow impulses and inspiration. I, in fact, do not bring up the sun or make the birds sing.

I am Part Of this greater existence, this greater heartbeat of life. I could never be alone or forgotten, nor am I responsible for making life Work.

I took a deep breath. I paused to smell the varied fragrances of the garden around me and to watch the birds gliding across the blue sky above me. I felt the presence of creation and the aliveness in it all – including myself.

The trees around me didn’t look worried. Nor did the grass or the soil or the bushes. The sky hung over us quietly and a breeze sleepily rattled the leaves high above the ground.

What wisdom did they know that kept them so steady? Were we more wise than the trees and all of nature? Are we aware of something they are not aware of? Or is it foolishness that causes us to wring our hands in worry and anguish while they continue to exist, steadily and surely?

I do not think I am wiser than the trees or the birds or the bees. A quiet knowing beats in them and it must beat in me as well. Somewhere behind thought and underneath judgement, I believe that same knowing speaks. So, I’ll listen. I’ll trust.

Maybe it’s easier to listen when life moves slowly. But I’ll have to feel out a way to listen when life moves quickly too. To stay in rhythm with that ultimate knowing. I feel this is more important now than ever before. I can’t let the distractions and noise of life carry me away from myself, back into the grind of complacency and compliance.

Every morning I have to pledge to stay awake. To remain willing to listen to the knowing that sustains all life. To hold this to be true and above all other illusion that blinks in and out of my waking life.