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Showing posts with label meditation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label meditation. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Winging it

I always sensed that something vital was missing from my life. Was it a person? A situation? God? I wasn’t sure, but I automatically looked outside of myself for answers, which, if I were to write a book on how to give your power away, would be titled, ‘Looking Outside of Yourself for Answers.'

I’ve spent my entire life dodging the shadows and measurers, those who delight in defining others. I’ve feared God, myself, and the future—flinching each time life made a quick move.

I’ve wrestled with the meaning of life, invested myself in the study of death, and tried using crazy glue to reconstruct the ashes of 10,000 yesterdays.

As a child I had a fascination with birds, always wishing I could fly high above the stained sidewalks of my gritty life, so high that the stains blurred into bunnies and well kept gardens, seeing the entire scope of existence all at once and finally “getting” it.

Well, after wearing down countless pair of shoes I’ve discovered that I do indeed have wings, and the joy that this discovery has brought into my life is unmatchable.

My wings are the knowledge that everything that I’ve ever needed to live a full, and authentic, life already resides within me, and that the best way to express this life is through bold creativity. Creativity is the voice of my soul, where inspiration becomes conception and concentration flows into timeless meditation.

Actually, I was about 51-years-old when I first discovered my wings, and began writing my first novel, Cosette’s Tribe, and I was 56 before I put brush to canvas, expressing joy through color, so it is never too late to begin.

But oh how tragic it would have been if I had never discovered my wings, and had spent my days anchored to my own limited stories, or even worse, bowing to someone else’s image of me in order to win their love and approval, never becoming brave enough to fly.

Genuine love coaxes us to open our wings. It challenges us to try new things, hushing shame and judgment, while inspiring us to leave our fearful little nests and launch our hearts into the endless blue.

Flying is a practice, and it requires lots of room, so give your wings the space they need to fully open. Breathe. Embrace your magic, and remember my dear one…you were formed from stardust and love; believe the rumors of your greatness.

Wing it!

Thursday, August 30, 2012

Monkey Mind Maybe

My meditation sitting didn’t go as planned this morning. I went into it feeling sort of blue, hoping to visit the tranquil center of my soul, but then Monkey Mind invaded my thinking. I taped my brain waves during this morning’s session and this is how it went. Please realize that Monkey Mind isn’t me. I don’t know who he is.

Monkey Mind: “So, why so glum chum? What’s the prob today? Something always seems to be bothering you. Aren’t you ever happy?”

Me: “Nothing’s wrong. I’m not supposed to be talking to you.”

Monkey Mind: “Aw… you’re confused and stuck, blue and bloated. Well, hells bells it sucks to be you. Have another banana and take one for the monkey.”

Me: “I am not my thoughts. I am the silence behind the thoughts—the lean back and breathe, the soft in the center.”

Monkey Mind: “Blubber tastes delicious to old-fashioned Eskimos but not to me. It’s too…blubbery. Lots of things on this planet are gross. I knew that life was going to be a bitch when I got slapped on the ass for showing up.”

Me: “Who said that?”

Monkey Mind: “I did.”

Me: “Who are you?”

Monkey Mind: “I don’t know, but I’m not you so relax. “

Me & Monkey Mind: “This is weird…me not being my thoughts. It makes me wonder…. Or is it someone else wondering? Hmmm.”

Monkey Mind: “There’s going to be a flogging at the village square—a tar and feathering—guilty guilty.”

Me: “Stand by the edge of the river and observe your thoughts floating by. Don’t let them distract you. They are not you.”

Monkey Mind: “I gotta pee.”

Me: “Shhh! Who are you anyway?”

Monkey Mind: “Um. God.”

Me: “No you’re not. Shut up so I can meditate. Lean back and observe the thoughts flowing by. I am not my thoughts…. Oh screw it. I’m getting a cup of coffee. You coming?”

Monkey Mind: “You betcha! Loser.”

Me: “What did you call me?”

Monkey Mind: “Nothing. Remember when you used to pick pussy willows by that covered bridge, like that movie with hunky Clint Eastwood in it? Hey I just met you…here’s my number, so call me maybe…

Me: ”It’s going to be a long day.”

Because misery loves company I'm featuring this video today. My friend Beth planted it in my head yesterday, so I wanted to pay it forward: