The unwrapping of the wound often hurts more than the initial cut.

Lately I’ve had the opportunity to really dive into my belief system. As I grow, the gifts keep revealing themselves; sometimes with a tone of misplaced or misdirected anger.

I can either remove myself from the situation or I can become transfixed in the role of the wounded.

There is no truth in being in that anger, only a desire to fill a void of long ago. What is the sense in that?

The presence of the moment unveil an awareness of beginning. So many times my development has relied on the opinion of others- that my existence was so fetal. I was remiss to the truth of my birth.

I was told the other day by a wise soul to really listen to what people are saying. They are giving you an insight to who they truly are. Those words an onset to a labor of love.

The agreement of contract. I believed my fate was detailed in the hands of many and not my own. There is truth in that if I choose to live that concept with a closed mind. I know for me, nothing is permanently shut. Usually doors come with locks and windows have latches, they all come with keys or the ability to open.

The moment I slam shut a belief it will usually visit me in another form. For me to discard that at this time in my life seems thoughtless. So I peer and stretch the site line. I expand and unfold. Embracing what nurtures me and the critic’s, my thoughts are gently put to rest as they should be.

I reside in love and truth be told if I don’t love those moments of doubt, of discussion, I discount their place. The comfort of release and the heartbreak of holding on.

From womb to wonder…

Unbalanced to balance.

The beginning of every day starts with a concession of allowing yesterday’s lingering thoughts to carry over into today’s gift.

It’s that whole teeter-thoughter entering my realm of reality. I’ve coined the phrase. I created it, so why not? It accompanies me through my mind-field..step, step… boom.

Today’s awareness, What you have seen in meditation books- It gives you a thought for the day and then tells you what you’re aware of. I call it believe-washing. It’s like a Zombie Peter Pan. The need to feed in the believing brain. I believe…I believe. A pattern of purpose.

I know for me I use to wonder, what’s that? Only to find it’s a feeling tied to an emotion topped with a scoop of sarcasm and washed down with a gulp of terror.

As minutes roll into hours and then days into weeks. etc…I find myself no longer having the decision made for me on what my awarenesses will be or who will decide how I will feel. So enters the calm. No storm necessary to follow.

I am the cultivator of my own awareness. Calm is a condition of peace. I am learning and becoming poised rather than possessed. Often I come up with a theory that it’s a long time coming. When really, it’s exactly on time. A second sooner and it may have whirled on by.

As I awakened to another day. My mornings offer me so much. What will I bring forth today and what remnants of yesterday am I trying to carry into today? Reflection is wonderful in it’s place. I tend to hold on. Often an overload of a good thing, a seemingly bad thing, and the whole damn thing.

Buzz, the bird dog and I have a routine. I get up before he does. He either does a dive under the fluffy comforter or he comes to me with his paw and motions for me to pull back and let him enter.

A dule of doves are burrowed in the desert landscape. Big and small. Almost camouflaged by the sand and sun. They will have to share this moment with us. We wait as long as we possibly can. I wonder what coup they have planned and has their morning become an act of grace as well?

The fragrance of sage has wafted across the air like a bouquet of promise. I am in a full flight of peace.

I find myself nestled in living each day. The days seem to be unfolding slowly and commanding the attention that time deserves. I am in love with this awareness and knowing that I have the ability to rise with the sun and rest with the moon has opened in me a energy. Nothing captures me any longer in the past. The key to an unlocked mind has dawned and incredibly I see right in front of me a scenery of infinite promise.

Sitting at my keyboard pounding out words like Beethoven, (if only I was deaf to the comments in my head). Thoughts chirping away like a magpie on a fencepost, or in this case, my shoulder. A bad omen of thought. I need to slingshot it and move on. Nothing remotely uplifting has resulted in this neurotic symphony of thoughts. My truth is this- the only deadline I’m facing is my own ego telling me, “You must get this in gear, it’s what you’ve wanted now enlighten, brighten and beam.”

When my internal compass is allegedly “off”, I have this inability to see past the feeling. The feelings become a flask flood. That’s correct. I don’t flash anything. Intentionally.

With that written, the truth is this. The compass is never off, it just leads me down the path of realization. “I’m exactly where I am supposed to be” can be music to my ears or a burden as big as a pebble in my shoe.

That annoyance will send me to an imaginary bed tucked under the covers. Which I must tell you, only exists in my head. My DNA is to never quit. Push on little Injun that could!

Fortunately for me the internal compass always resets itself and the cure is this: I am muddling through, sometimes with a limp. Because well, it’s bound to an old paragraph and releasing that into the Universe has become the lyric to a song that, when in tune, is the marching band within the parade passing by.

Drumroll please.

As I peer out yonder window pane, I can see the Chocolate Mountains of Santa Rosa and the lovely mountains of San Jacinto.

Through the rain, nestled within each curve and angle are clouds that appear to be waves crashing about, coating the surface and looking ethereal. I enjoy the rain, the wind, and all the elements that come from Mother.  It’s like a service call in that she replenishes herself.   I so connect with that constant awareness of self, although I bring it forth in similar, albeit less powerful ways. I can, let’s say, connect the dots….

I cry.  My personal rain. Regardless of emotion, it comes in many forms of flight.  Joy, sorrow and visual.  I see, I hear, I feel.  My whole existence generates these patterns of innocence.  It’s truly my fuel.  

My breath is my wind… it occasionally becomes labored and heavy when met with challenge or fear.  I have been known to blow hot air.  These days I generate the wind like my surroundings, the useful windmills of the Cabazon.  I make it my mission to breathe words of encouragement, love and allowing the linger to soothe like a fresh breeze, instead of a harsh Santa Ana wind.

Shadow to light.  Separate and intertwined.  My spiritual birth has come forth through her divine source of unity. Connection, correction and current. 

Often the journey of journaling the thoughts in my head lead me to old familiar places~  thoughts that frighten me, for I wonder if the deeper I delve, will I slowly sink?  

Yet I discover once there I really can lay back and float.  Skimming or swimming the surface is never the answer for me.  So I must dive and reach~ for in truth, it’s just water I tread, knowing that within me is a fire that burns. 

On this beautiful Native Summer day in late October, waiting not so patiently for a season change it will be 93 on the thermometer today, although it dipped down in the 60’s and it was a lovely feeling as I opened the garage door and felt it embrace me. It’s our daily rise to shine morning, the Buzz and I . We explore each more, with everyday, turning down streets and greeting our fellow travelers. As I walk, I find inspiration in every sight, the hummingbirds who follow us, the huge butterflies and the crows the size of Buzz. The ants are big in these parts and they’re busy creating.

I find myself in the spiritual flow, this is what I refer to as the spiritual dance. It is a glorious moment a gentle ballroom dance and the path had expanded before me into this ornate ballroom and I feel so alive. It’s a treatment of pure holistic heaven, the moments I’m aware I can’t hold onto and yet as quickly as I do the head and heart turn to reflection, the dance is now more of a break dance. I’m not going to shake it off and pretend it’s not happening lets follow this through.

For whatever reason I am back to remembering an adolescent hurt, what triggers these feelings are always a puzzle to me and instead of slamming my mind shut and saying nonsense that doesn’t matter anymore, I know the ballroom is still under my feet. The trick is simply finding out the impetus to this feeling. The beautiful thing is this, there is no pain attached to it as in the past. When I was younger, I was made fun of for the way I looked, it was always puzzling to me and yet, I never went home and told my parents of these painful words or critique of my looks. I think even then I was concerned with how it may hurt my parents. I don’t recall my Mother ever sharing about her being mistreated by her appearance.  I do know my Father was and I look exactly like him. Plus, in my eyes, my perception is all about disregarding, than looking at it, regardless, it always penetrates the surface.

The truth of matter is this; I usually retaliated in kind, not always with the people who wounded me, it was sometimes at the cost of an innocent and that will always pierce my armor, that I intentionally harmed another in the precise form as I was damaged. Decades later, I would be at lunch with my sister, her and I, at a favorite restaurant. Enjoying our sister time. As we left I noticed these two women, my age. I would have to be in my late thirties at the time. They were pointing and taunting me and making faces. I can recall it stung then. Especially, when I realized these were women I attended school with, I proceeded home and told C about it, he was confused by the whole experience, I know to this day what the meaning of “we will love you until you can love yourself” Certainly he did that for me. It’s a covenant, our treaty with this power greater than I. 

In the midst of the pirouette this morning, I just glided into it, I felt a release and I felt myself engaged with a new partner, the creator, I am firmly on his feet like when I was young with my Dad, and I felt myself laughing and at one in the experience. It’s clear to me these days even over a decade later as I browse through social media and watch the words of others, you can either build esteem or you can tear it down, there is no trick to that, it is clearly the awakening of spirit, do I want to treat others how I want to be treated? Or is it really about expressing myself as my creator does to me…A sweet soulful caress of words, actions and belief.