Remembering Ourselves

Most of this holiday weekend I spent picking through the detritus of my life in this condo, 13 years of building a career, a practice, becoming a runner,  transitioning through the deaths of Aunt Rose and my parents, and leave-taking the significant others who tried to make me stand aside from my heart.  Like many places I've lived since The Barn days,  cave-like protection seems to be the aim, with space so small it feels I can touch the four points of the condo and reach through the walls, like a cell meant to develop whatever inner resources I needed.   Depression dogged me, and fights with my own physical body, going round and round until becoming comfortable with the routine of the run, and eating so well I could diminish symptoms both mental and physical, almost to none. 

The weekend has been full of signs and wonders.  Of course today my sync between phone, ipad and blog doesn't want to cooperate,  so I will try another time to include the amazing pix of full moon,  burrowing owls and others.....

Meanwhile,  today I remember who I want to be,  who I am in the making....through all these years of what seemed like turtle steps,  peeling away the layers of perceived limitations and the impact of negative introjects from family, from the past, from my own neurotic view of myself.   Diana the Huntress has always been a goddess near and dear to my heart.  She runs along with Her 'familiars',  deep in the hunt for Herself,  blazing a trail that others might find in the moonlight.  Taking Her cues from the wind, listening to the prompt of Her heart. 

I ran long yesterday,  a beautiful beach loop, and today woke without plan; but feeling the call to get out on the roads for a last leisurely loop.  An email from dear Lisa caught my eye before I headed out, reminding me of all the good folks out there who are, indeed,  following that trail.  As I ran,  I had more lightness in my heart than ever:  we all need to remember who we are.  You never know who is taking your lead,  who notices when you stumble, and learns from your mistake;  who might be waiting by the wayside just for you  to come along and breathe new life into their effort along a rocky path that you make clear because you pointed out the obstacles along the way.  Remember, you matter most.  Without you,  there is no story to tell of your magnificence.  Without you,  there is no one to tell their story, to witness each dream, each memory strung like pearls, like stars thrown across the wide sky.

Oklahoma, We Love You

Thunderstorms rolled through SE Florida last night,  with lightening coming so fast there were no pauses in thunder.  I sat with miraculous electricity still on and watched the news from Oklahoma, feeling a surreal tie between us through the weather systems of the south.  When I was a little girl,  I distinctly remember hunkering down in the family room of our suburban Pittsburgh house while storms raged outside;  I watched out the back window as the winds whipped everything around,  only to find out the next day our entire area was hit by tornadoes.   The next day, my Dad packed us in the car and we drove around to see the destruction- not nearly as devastating- through the tisk-tisking from my Mom,  me in the back seat quiet and still. 

All that was in me last night;  Wilma crashing around us in 2005.  The '500 year' floods in the Valley that washed away my cars,  and crashed through the Barn and lowlands....I have had my share of Mother Nature writ large. 

I didn't expect to run today.  But when I suddenly woke just after 7AM,  I saw a break in the clouds and an early sun mixing the blues and greys with a soft orange hue.  Packing my phone in a plastic zip belt,  I warmed up past the park with floods of standing water attracting the water birds on the morning hunt.    Getting into my low gear,  I headed through the trailer park and rounded out on Ravenswood,  a nice gait in the coolish air.  I thought about all those storms, and cries and people who woke up one morning for school, or work or shopping- and never made it home that night.   There is no way we can 'see' why some of us survive the Storms of Life and others do not.  But those of us who are left behind are clearly meant to give comfort and witness.   Do what you can for all those who are swept into the matrix of Mother's great shift...She will not go quietly into Her new world.  It will take much to make the change in our hearts, and in how we treat Her, and each other.  But we can start now- today. 

Breaking through: Sunday long run 5-19-13

Thank-you Solar flares and photon belt, shimmying and shaking earthquakes, temps high and low, and the ongoing outer drama of a shifting world for stealing my sleep.  Now a persistent pattern,  no matter how much I prepare for a good night's sleep,  I am awake many hours with my head stuck between worlds...until I finally seem to drift unconscious.  And I need that:  as any runner knows,  sleep is our Healer,  sleep is the balm to our sore muscles,  the time-out our body needs to repair the punishment of the roads.

Nevertheless, I jumped out of bed this morning like a firecracker, threw on my gear and was out the door before I could think about it too much ...walking up into the middle of Emerald Hills in the Sunday quiet to warm up,  passing many more walkers and runners than I've seen in a while as I got my run into gear.  Some folks are friendly,  nod and wave.  Others are deep in their rhythm....and hang 'do not disturb' on their energy.  I can relate;  when I have the music up and find myself focused in those multi-layers of internal and external worlds,  the last thing I'm paying attention to is anyone else out there.  Cars may honk at me,  and I am often the subject of someone's ire "get out of the road!" or recently "running on asphalt in too hard on you- run on the grass"  from some guy on a bicycle (thanks for unsolicited advise). Solitude is my aim;  my energy says "just let me be."

Despite a pretty warm morning (and the perpetual lack of sleep) I took it nice and steady heading west,  taking the 441 overpass and skirting around the far side of the Seminoles (a pretty good western stretch!) before cutting through to Sheridan and hitting my John Williams park pit-stop. 

Nature cradled me in hushed tones and unrolled the carpet of Her many colors, deep in the greens of late Spring.  I took my time and drank plenty of water to prepare for the home stretch,  hot now in the full sun along the back roads, lost in a loping gait that took me block by block through the hodge-podge of lives hidden behind closed doors.

Running felt like sovereignty.  Whether I stopped or started,  turned left or right,  I suddenly had the huge appreciation for moving on my own volition, in my own time,  by my own power.  Sunday runs are so important to me for this:  the chance to be completely unfettered off 'the schedule' or the needs and demands of others,  the voice in my own head breaking through the background noise of life's concerns like a chanting, put to the beat of my footfalls.  I felt Something bringing me to this slice of myself has waited for me all along.  Every trail gone cold or lonely road was my own sovereignty practicing for the day when I could muster the confidence to step to it, step on it:  my Path, my awakening, my Day.   If you are pressured by the forces outside of you,  take a moment and consider how your next step will take you further- or closer- to yourself.  And embrace the voice inside which says "yes,  You!"

Multidimensional Mothers Day

Was it a birthday?- I see a cake- her's?  My mother always loved to hang in the kitchen.  Our talks always seemed to take place at the table over coffee and anything she could pull from the stove or fridge to feed me, a cornucopia of goodies.   When I see this,  it feels as if I was just there,  comparing notes as we always did on everyone and everything.   I can't believe how much I still miss her.

Being a mom has been the hardest and most surprising thing of my life:  when I think about Michael,  I wonder how I must've surprised my own mom with whatever gifts or issues I revealed.  And yet, as any mother knows,  we just 'get' some essence of our children ...since they reverberate the same genetic energy,  the same vulnerabilities, courage, beauty....we are pulled into our generational groove through some alchemy of Life processes.  We may try- and never really understand how or why we are what we are.  But as we grow older, we keep working at it, harder than ever.  Maybe we are trying to make peace with all those ancestors,  those ghosts of our past.

Today,  I woke to a beautiful morning and headed to John Lloyd state park for my long(ish) run, and immersed myself in the beauty of Mother Nature,  allowing my heart to reveal itself through the sights of the sea and the long road.  'Mother', for me,  was brought to life when Mello sanctified Divine Mother for all of us in the Sun Temple,  weaving together the threads of history and spiritual search we, as women,  are often called to embrace;  whether we consciously choose a Pathway,  or walk the natural life,  giving birth to our children, our dreams, our struggles and tribulations....an my mom did,  and her sisters,  and their mother from many generations ago.

And although a big chapter in my life is coming to a close,  folding closed its lacks and losses like packing boxes ready for storage within the Universal Mind,  I have more faith than ever before in Great Mother's power of 'Process';  that we are firmly in Hand, held close and brought to each moment like a revelation,  a surprise full of utmost mystery and wonder.  This embrace of intrinsic Beauty is what Mother feels like for me.  At every turn on my run something extraordinary swept into my attention,  catching like lures into my gait and pulling themselves along the inner story in my head until memories, hopes and visual scenes all seemed to bleed together,  skimming along with the dreams that are sending me up above and forward from now.  Something Big is at work.

Sense the pull for yourself and look- really look- at the things and people around you.  Do you see Her?  She is rising through all the accumulated pain,  that terrible torture,  the dispossession of your soul.  She is telling you every day how much you matter to Her, to those you love and who love you- and always in the Grand Scheme of Things.

Power Stepping: Sunday Long Run 5-5-13

My dream life is very mysterious.  I remember things that are beyond this life, and sometimes I can't quite remember things that belong to this one.  This 'multi-layered-ness' has been a part of my reality for as long as I can remember, part of what made being me such a challenge as a child,  becoming an adult- until I met my 'spiritual family' and found the bigger context for where I belonged in Virginia. 

Last night the temps lowered to a breezy, cool level.  By morning,  the last scene in my dream lifted,  me watching as a young couple shepherded their 2 children up the stairs for bed, at exactly 10:47 PM (watch out, times rarely come so particularly...hmm),  as if I was meant to wait for this after whatever long plot preceded this.  The whole world felt full of movement:  the skies full of speeding clouds on the full breadth of winds whipping around the buildings, with a slow sun scuttling in between.   I felt tired and removed from everything, stuck in between my many selves.   The surreal quiet of Sundays in the emptiness made me linger just to look around:  this place is so part of the past, everything about it is about to change, I kept feeling.  I need to move.

Sometimes we reach for the very tools within our grasp all along.  Today it was my power insteps,  lost inside another pair of running shoes I forgot I had.   I slipped them into my long milers,  and headed out and up 29th, the structure and support immediately helping to balance my gait.  The wind was at my face all the way down Ravenswood, but I found a nice rhythm and lost myself into the morph of Krishna Das all the way into my Publix pit-stop. 

As I cruised down 35th,  this route I know so well I could do it in my sleep,  I broke through all the fatigue and disengagement of the morning and suddenly felt myself 'click' into the run.  The excitement and joy I'd been suppressing about my own changes,  caught on the motion of the run,  suddenly welled up and with the exuberance of a child I threw up my hands in a motion of wild glee and gratitude.  Whatever the challenges, blocks,  resistance along the way,  The Universe is moving through us, so that even the most stubborn inertia is suddenly set free.  My power insteps were like a platform I could launch from;  I was reminded that the foundation of my strength,  fortitude, courage and love of process would certainly and safely move me through every step of the way. 

Sometimes if feels like we can't get from 'here to there', but Mother Nature is so wise,  She has already gone there and connected everything.  In fact there is so much inter-connected we can hardly see 'the forest for the trees',  or where our own little life ends 'here' and the rest of the Big World begins.   Just when we least expect it,  She surprises us around every corner with the breathtaking beauty of ourselves.   I get lost within it,  I find my Power, and I am found.

Disclosure, May Day, Beltane- We Run into May!

As south Florida continues it's wet reception of the storms rolling in this week,  I take the time to power up my yoga and tune into the global gestalt.  A LOT is going on!!  The swirling energies,  which to me feel ricocheted between extremes of glee and sometimes gloom,  reflect the ever shifting paradigm we are all in.   With Beltane also comes Disclosure,  and the Citizen's hearing on UFOs and ETs.  Meanwhile countries all over the world are having May Day protests, as the 'working class' gives voice to the ever-present struggles of those caught in the matrix of world financial chaos. 

Disclosure has a different meaning in therapy.  We seek client disclosure in helping access the stories that manifest whatever problems and issues presented.  Getting to that is tricky business, though.   Like the government pleading "no cover-up" while all the evidence says otherwise,  clients are often the last to admit that issue x or y had anything to do with the stress of their present circumstances.  Disclosure itself is both the end and the means.   Just to admit to someone what's going on can be the relief needed to see it in perspective and the solution waiting in the wings.  Processing the impact of it all is the process of therapy.  It takes much trust all the way around to push through our barriers.  But like all things which are compelled to grow,  Life will never be denied!

For me,  disclosure is the intimate exchange of whatever's in my heart space.  I get into this space on the run.  I reach it when I write or create artwork.   In counseling I sometimes use my own disclosure (carefully) to entice the normalization of a client's own path towards opening up.   Truth be told,  what I miss is the delicate exchange with those I love, who sometimes, I feel, forget:  I'm not just on the giving end.

With the opening of the great month of May,  I encourage that delicate opening,  like flowers in Spring,  in you.   Feel where the seeds, once planted, are seeking the Light.  As they crest the surface can you see the brilliance of their every color, shape and movement?  This is your living Life!  Offer your care and nurture the blossoming.  Every truth put out there only serves to bring us closer to our Selves and each other.