Photo by Matthew Wheeler on Unsplash

feels as though an age has passed since I sat and wrote, unburdened myself of my feelings and thoughts in the hours some may say are too early to call the morning.

I feel tired and calm with a tinge of anxiety and notice that much of my struggle these past weeks has been the tension between being and doing. Part of me rails against perceived idleness. I feel afraid and uncertain when the structure I reject and simultaneously long for feels lost. But it is still here, waiting for my impetuous nature to stop flitting and darting like a chickadee and come back to solidity, to the grounded place where everything really is.

It strikes me as a wondrous thing that I can be that structure, that solidity for other people — for the girls, for my clients, for my friends. And yet, when it is just me, I become so easily unmoored. I know how it feels, what it is to be here and now… the texture of the air, the scents, the shifting of the light from this realm inside of which everything truly is perfect, just as it is, offering lessons, sensations, sounds and all the other miraculous things that can be packed inside one single moment.

To be inside this moment is miraculous. It is joy and pleasure and heartbreak and longing and curiosity and sublime terror. And yet I emerge from it. I emerge from the moment to find myself torn apart. Once outside, back in my mind, the wholeness feels delicate, like a bubble waiting to be popped, some tenuous thing so easily obliterated, stolen from me by none other than myself, my mind’s blind searching for difference, differentiation, for feeling special and somehow separate from it all — creating the very separation I so despair of.

We are such fascinating creatures, with our ability to render ourselves so small and separate. We create knots inside ourselves and identify so strongly with the thoughts we have, the imaginings they lead to. We forget our anchors and get swept away by the tides of future and past, to our peril and yet… no matter how strong the tide, we can always drop anchor and reorient. While it may take many moments for stillness to resume, for the wind to die down and the swaying to calm, eventually we will find ourselves at home again in the splendid present, filled with every single thing. Connected to it all.

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