I sank into the low chair directly in front of the pellet stove on a night that dropped below zero. I thought I would just warm up for a moment and go back to the Go Back To it Thing, except, that quenching thunder of getting what I need when I need it, and being awake and grateful and aware through it happened. And I tipped my head back and smiled. I closed my eyes and kept smiling.
The warmth traveled down my face and found bodyways to travel like a very very friendly champagne. I just kept grinning. Arcade Fire came on and the song joined the effervescence of bubbles traveling up and down my humanways and so now I am being warmed by music too. And it was another of those, "there is NOWHERE else I would rather be right now" moments, except, I didn't get up and rush off.
I started writing. And I realized that this quiet, luscious, absolute moment and my ability to receive it so comprehensively was not a fluke but a manifestation of grace and joy and satisfaction. It was a direct result of all the love drenched landscaping I have been doing in my garden.
And that's gorgeous, right? This moment was my grown up seedling, strong enough to bring me color and light and breezes and a closer glimpse of sky. But it got better when I realized that the moment is an indicator of proximity to Truly Awesome More Yum. I couldn't feel this so completely, take it in so resplendently if I wasn't really close to even more wonderfull Wonderment-Inducing Wondermoments.
So the moment became an indicator of driftwood (Abraham's metaphor for the things you experience just before a big manifestation of Wanted comes in, like driftwood and gulls you see before you actually see the island itself)
The awareness of this as driftwood, deepened my capacity to enjoy it. I gave myself even more permission and realized the dang chair reclined and I could put my feet up. Recognizing the enormity of the value of this pure joy moment deepend everything. This larger perspective allowed me to receive a cornicopia of gifts beyond the intitial one of simple relief.
The moment became a rung on a ladder. And the weight and heft and softness of the rung in my hand felt like one of the most solid and grounded experiences of bliss that I'd ever had. I knew what was happening but the knowing it didn't interrupt it, it let me relax into the sweet epiphany laden nature of the entire game. I had a definitive and palpable experience of traction with my alignment and I knew that if I opened my eyes, I would see rungs ahead of me, going on into forever. And the grins just get higher and higher.
I don’t know why I can’t stop saying the word jiggy. It’s like I have a poison dart somewhere I can’t reach and it only affects the part of my brain that thinks it’s hilarious to overuse the world jiggy, which is a very VERY specific part of my brain.
It may also be that the word is more nuanced than “get good with...” or “get over...” in my poison dart brain, getting jiggy with something means you groove with it, you invite it into the dance. It’s like the opposite of rejection and judgement. You say, okay, okay, you can dance too.
It’s kind of heart-softee AND it brings to mind young Will Smith doing some fun things with his pelvis and massive white sneakers.
this thot appeared in my brain today and felt like all the cool breezes on all the sweaty necks:
instead of a bajillion little habits that just snare up your flow, what about having one GIANT habit?
Let's back up...
Today was one of those fresh out of the storm days. The week prior, I’d been sidebrained by a stomach flu and felt enough betrayed by life to let myself get a proper pout on.
So, when I awoke today I knew that it was especially important to use the fresh start of this first day of feeling well to prioritize a strong reconnection with my joy. As a joy coach, I know too well how quickly fussy momentums can get out of hand, and before we know it we feel out of control in the life we are creating, which, technically speaking, is probably the worst feeling ever.
the other day a friend invited me to go electric mountain biking with him.
A new wheeled thing?
yes. yes I do yes.
But an interesting thing happened as the bike STARTED HELPING me of its own sentient accord: I freaked the butt out.
I wasn't ready for it's assistfulness (do I KNOW you?) and started to get rigid and reactive against the help.
I think I may have accidentally become enlightened at a roller rink the other night. This happens to some people I've heard. No I haven't, but you are hearing it now, so, it totally counts.
I am not sure what to say about the space between the moment you have a desire sail out of you and the time when you get to rendezvous with its full unfurling but lord, that space is where we need every drop of grace our human apparatus might afford us.
I mean, how do we care for the vibration we emit with our living, except with dancing, howling, rivering and wahooing?
Yesterday I helped a woman remember the vibration of thriving. If you read that sentence fast, read it again like you might try to memorize the face of a beloved who is going away for a long time. Slow down for more of you to get on board.
Before you go on, close your eyes and Remember. The Vibration. Of thriving. What does it feel, taste, zoom like? For me, it's very green, very childhood biking ten miles on candy missions, very awake and starry starry night.
Lots of you know I had a "dis-ease" of the auto immune system and my body would shut down in different ways that crippled my ability to eat or think or move. There was the initial shock of trying to make peace with this, and then a very sad part passed where I accepted it, not in a joyful, this is going on now but will pass kind of way, but in a "oh well, this is me, this is me now and I have to make do. I'm a sicky. I can't do what other people can do. I'm broke somewhere."
Remember that meme?
It shows up after a tragedy. But it’s true, isn’t it?
Some us have a core leyline, deep in our central intentions for this life experience to aid and abet, lift and shift and to sing the closed windows open.
I’m one of them.
It's funny how much clarity comes when you just give life a little presence.
Right now, I sit down to write this post I've been secretly avoiding and I realize why (it's a really solid reason, these seven days of looking deeply at the aspects of trust has kicked my ass all over town) and today's is the hardest yet. First came Boundaries where I realized that I hid behind wishy washy boundaries and then quietly blamed and shoved away creating beautiful dramatic and lonely cycles. Then Reliability trounced in and revealed that I’d completely lost a bead, during my decade long plunge down the LOA rabbit hole, on what it feels like to feel reliable to someone else and to enjoy that trusty wusty feeling. Accountability happened on a day I accidentally took a healthy heaping of LSD and left a bunch of people in my acid wake, so, that was formative. Then came the day of the Vault, at which point I realized, I have betrayed most of the major confidences of my life, and usually with glee. Integrity was the day I could only wrote poems and Nonjudgement day was so full of judgement they nearly cancelled each other out, sigh..., in a small voice, onward?
Laying in a lover’s arms early this morning we spoke of desire. What else do lovers speak of before dawn? We were having a revelation of slowness and in that revelation realizing how scared of desire we had become, tense and uncomfortable, tangled up and uncurious as a basic response to the arrival of a new desire.
Whoa. This exploration into trust began because I ardently want to live and love better. I want to have more fluency of allowing and acres more tenderness and generosity.
In BRAVING, Brene Brown's exploration of integrity didn't have enough juice in it, so I wrote an integrity anthem.
It is in my integrity to dream.
It is in my integrity to love without condition as much as I am able and to increase my capacity to do so every day.
It is in my integrity to listen deeply and steadily to inner guidance and to do my best to act from what I hear to the best of my ability.
It is in my integrity to be honest about where and how I am on a topic and it is in my integrity to not stay stuck.
It is in my integrity to create create create.
It is in my integrity to do all that I can to stay close to the creative fires within and to disregard and disactivate all that might take me from their warmth.
It is in my integrity to dream, to pay Charon his penny, even when I think it is my last penny.
It is in my integrity to throw open windows in stale dusty rooms.
It is in my integrity to love the sun, to love what I can from wherever I am.
It is in my integrity to look for what is working and pay it the currency of my attention. It is in my integrity to vibrate deliberately and with much joi de vivre.
It is in my integrity to make and destroy along my true leylines.
It is in my integrity to familiarize myself with what resonance with true ley lines feels like.
It is in my integrity to dream things new.
It is in my integrity to become so enamored by my own dreams that I can bear the falling away of the old, and even worse, bear the waiting in the cold halls of limbo, where the halls of hot former drama are behind and the new bright halls of vines and ferns of what what is next is not yet upon me, it is in my integrity to love the forever becoming nature of reality, in the exact way I will love a cloud. Perfectly here and already perfectly nearly gone at the same time.
It is in my integrity to deadhead other people's marigolds and save the seeds to plant along as yet unflower-guardianed walkways.
It is in my integrity to smell my hand after being in the garden and to hold it up to the slow rising moon.
It is in the moons integrity to see me there.
It is in her integrity to dream.
It is in her integrity to rise
no matter fucking what.
Check out the next in this series on Braving or the one previous