Releasing Fears and Trying Something New

Well, after an almost three month sabbatical from writing, I composed one of these messages a few weeks ago. When I saw the final copy after it went out, I cringed, for in my haste I apparently didn't do a final proof? A word was missing; there was a typo or two. I then spent the following week feeling mortified, talking myself through my shame and hiding in my cave. 

Did I say shame? Yes, I did.

Let’s talk about that, or more specifically, the idea that it is unthinkable to make a public mistake. I say something incorrectly, don’t catch a typo, or make a fool of myself in some way, and I spend the next few weeks beating myself up and spinning in my self disappointment. I hate being so ding-dang human! Funny thing is, I would never describe myself as a perfectionist or anything remotely close.

When I confess this problem I have, I hear from others that they too have these experiences, so I am glad to know I am not alone. The problem is that these very fears of imperfection, making a mistake, or being judged that keep many of us from putting ourselves out there and sharing what we have to share with the world.
 

 You know what else? I have written about this before! Where’s the progress? (You can read it here.)

This rediscovered discomfort with my many imperfections almost stopped me from something I have been working on; a short email series on “everyday mysticism,"focused on sharing ideas about how to tap our inner mysticism while being fully engaged in this very busy and distracting physical life.

I consider myself a bit of an expert when it comes to being in the flow of the mystical river, complete with amazing metaphysical experiences, only to somehow find myself in the desert again. It’s a circle within this life of its own kind. I know I am not alone. So when I start the series, read it. Save the emails in your inbox until you have time. Create a space where you are focused and relaxed; read while you savor your morning coffee or your evening wine. Get out your journal and make notes to yourself about your own life and experiences, whatever works for you.

Okay, did I catch all my typos this time? Is it safe for me to hit the button?  
 

I hope so...

In the meantime, keep an eye out for an email labeled "Everyday Mysticism."
I look forward to sharing this time with you!

Many Blessings,

Sheryl

Going Within

“From a small seed a mighty trunk may grow.” – Aeschylus

Greetings to all, and I hope the last two months of summer were wonderful for everyone.

Wow, it has been quite a while since I sat down and wrote. What happened to me? I was simply living life. My sons and I took a trip to New Mexico and Colorado. We spent time with close friends, and time together with just the three of us. We watched for bears, hiked, visited places we loved and explored new ones. I worked my nonprofit-social work job and within that created two day-long presentations, brought a few projects from my mind into reality, all the while feeling blessed that within my work there is so much room for expression and creativity. 

We got the school year started, and last week at work I facilitated a retreat for a group of non-profit executive directors at a state park called Quartz Mountain. In preparing for those three days, I took of my usual professional hat, creating room to develop a presentation that enabled us to explore neuroplasticity; have fun, new experiences and bring what we learned personally to our jobs.
 
But I wasn't writing and it bothered me. I felt unusually silent. Yet, within my silence I was aware of a deep, inner stillness. I felt peace. I felt a quiet joy.
 
There is usually a reason when we feel we need to be quiet and go within. Often there is a seed - an idea, wisdom, or understanding- that is taking root.

I feel myself emerging from my quiet space, and am going to trust that from a small seed a mighty trunk may grow. As autumn approaches, stirring the mystical inside of me,  I am awaiting epiphanies.
 
Wishing Epiphanies for Us All,
 
Sheryl

Rocky Mountain High

            

           The other morning I vividly recalled a precious moment from when my son oldest son was five and his younger brother was three. We sat on the ground in the park watching the fireworks. I had one sweet angel in my lap and the other tucked under my arm. Beneath the bursting sounds of the fireworks, I heard my five year old begin singing, quickly joined by his younger brother. “I’ve seen it raining fire in the sky…”  It was John Denver’s Rocky Mountain High; they clearly had an affinity for their mother’s music! This memory was quite timely as Independence Day will quickly be upon us.

            Later that same day, I walked back out to where I was sitting in the shade with a cup of Bailey’s and coffee. As I did so, I heard John Denver’s Rocky Mountain High coming from Pandora on my phone, just as he sang my very favorite line, “talk to God and listen to the casual reply…..”

            Listening to the casual reply; I hear it in the rustle of the leaves on the trees, in the way the clouds float across the sky or in the breeze as it touches my skin. Or I simply feel it in the gentle stirring that speaks to me without words. Such is communing with Spirit, and in that I find the richness of connectedness, peace and understanding.

            I smiled to myself as I sat down with my coffee, and thought it interesting that I was connecting to the lyrics of this specific song twice in one day. And then it occurred to me— we are leaving for Colorado in about a week!

            I’ve never really been a Colorado girl. New Mexico? Definitely. Arizona and Utah? Absolutely. But Colorado? Not so much. And you know what? It’s about time I visit that fourth corner of the Four Corners region.

Thank you, John Denver and Pandora, for the perfect timing and setting the perfect tone. Or should I just thank Spirit? Regardless, the message was heard. I will keep my eye out for “raining fire” in the sky, and will seek the divine in quiet moments surrounded by nature. And along with that, I have no doubt that the boys and I, along with my dear friend and her two sons, will create our own special kind of Rocky Mountain high.

Many Blessings,

Hear John Denver's Rocky Mountain High - Click

The Tribe

You may recall me writing last spring that I decided to take seven weeks off of work; a sabbatical of my own making. While the circumstances were such that I had to step into “work mode” a few times (I am an executive director of a nonprofit), overall, from mid April through the month of May, I focused on my own personal projects and being a mom. Quiet meditative mornings spent writing and connecting with Spirit, and afternoons completing a life coaching program defined my days. My time off reached its completion with a trip to Mexico; very lovely indeed.

As I knew would be the case, I hit the ground running when I returned to work, and two days after flying from Puerto Vallarta to Dallas and driving back to Oklahoma, I made the drive back to Texas for several days of meetings. I felt a little “spacey,” as my brain revved back up, but as desperate as I had felt seven weeks earlier to have my break from work, I was supercharged and glad to be back!

These meetings were no dull affair; I was with a group of people who hold parallel positions to mine from across the country. The value of our time together is why I came back to work a week earlier than I had originally planned. While we have come together to work toward nationwide goals and collaboration, these people are my professional support system.

On one of these days, I looked across the room at Bev while she was speaking, and was flooded with memories from six years earlier, prior to stepping into my current position. It was a series of dreams, likely triggered by my location in El Rito, New Mexico. In my dream, the tribe was fracturing as it became known that efforts toward “population control” due to extreme drought and grain stores had been unnecessary; tribal leaders were saving the food for themselves. The population control involved infanticide.

As I awoke from that dream, Bev’s name, first and last came to me. This unfolding continued after I returned home, and with follow up research, I came across some articles that suggested population control may have been used (sometime between 1100 and 1300 AD), and part of the tribe inhabiting the area split off and headed north to the area around El Rito. Two years later, when I was well into my current position, I would be filled with recognition as I started seeing the names that had come to me in the dream state. This loose network of individuals was the “tribe.”  

I don’t think about this often, and over the past few years of working closely with these people, I haven’t thought about it at all. Interestingly, we work in the field of child abuse and advocacy. What is this 21^st century experiment we are engaged in? And what have we come to try and do, en masse, in this lifetime?

While I have ideas about the answers to those questions, I may never know. But I am grateful, that on my fourth day back at work after a Spirit filled seven weeks, I recalled those dreams and glimpsed the greater totality in which we all take part.

Many Blessings,

45 New Things

“A mind that is stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimensions.” -- Oliver Wendall Holmes, Jr.

In the months before my 45^th birthday, I had what one might call an old fashioned mid-life crisis. It manifested itself internally rather than in the more stereotypical ways we have all witnessed. As I did this internal evaluation, I knew that as much as I had enjoyed my life, I wanted to keep growing, expanding and experiencing rather than growing ever more comfortable and complacent in my “zone.” So, my birthday gift to myself was a challenge: Do 45 new things over the next year.

I hiked the Narrows in Zion. I got myself to Bryce Canyon after more than a decade of saying I wanted to go. I took my sons kayaking down a river; we hiked the Grand Canyon and experienced Carlsbad Caverns. I got my first pedicure, did a zip line adventure, read Thoreau, consciously tried new ways of dealing with patterns in my most significant relationships, got certified as a Life Coach, and the list goes on.

About a month ago, I downloaded a free trial of some “mind mapping” software to use in my coaching. I have always been intimidated by technology and it was completely unlike me to experiment with software with such reckless abandon. What had gotten into me? I was going to add this to the list of 45! Or wait--- was this new behavior a result of the list of 45? What I did know was that I had subtly changed.

A year has passed, and on my 46^th birthday, my sons and I boarded a plane for Puerto Vallarta as I have done for the past 23 years. On the plane, I looked at the “45” list in the back of my journal, somewhat in awe. I was beginning to see the ways in which the impact of these new experiences permeated into all areas of my life.  And then I noticed that the list stopped at 43; I didn’t actually meet my goal.

The weather in Mexico was unusual while we were there, and one morning I found myself completely alone on the beach, sitting under a palapa, while it poured down rain. It was beautiful, and I made a mental note to remember how peaceful I felt in that moment. When my sons arrived, they of course went straight to the water. The air was cool, but I pulled off my cover-up, ran through the rain, and submerged in the Pacific in spite of the storm. When I came up for air, I looked toward the mountains emerging through the dark clouds in the distance. What an incredible morning it had been.

Then it hit me; I had never experienced the beauty of a sitting on the beach alone during a storm. Nor had I ever been swimming in the ocean while it poured down rain. And with that realization, my list of “45” was complete.

Many Blessings,

A Lovely Reminder

            There is a bit of history to my nights in Old Paris, but first play with me and pronounce it in French- “pair-ee.” Yes, that is much more fun!

It was 2011, and I sat with my sons in a movie called Hugo. The movie was set in the early 1930’s in Paris. In one of the scenes, French music was being played in a café. My son turned to me and whispered. “Mom, how do you know the words to this song?” At that point, I hadn't even realized I was singing along.

Shortly thereafter, I saw another movie set in early 19^th century Paris, this time alone.  I sat strangely detached and wide eyed, holding my popcorn and diet coke (neither of which was consumed) as the recognition became stronger. The streetscape was comfortingly familiar; cobblestone roads lit by gas lamps. I had visited this place many times in my dreams—for more years than I could remember.

On the way home that day, I stopped at the grocery store. I recall walking out empty handed, and standing confused in the parking lot. My car….what was it? Where was it? I walked aimlessly through the parking lot, unsure of what I was looking for. I realized I held the key fob in my hand and thought to hit the red button. Across the lot, I heard the horn blaring and the headlights flashing. “The Subaru…” I thought to myself when I saw it. Safely in the car, I made the short drive home, noting to myself that this is why I might be a candidate for a facility in my older years….

That night, my dream state lit up like the fourth of July, and when I awoke, I knew that I wasn't losing it the day before. I had been straddling two realities; a “door” had been cracked open, and within the dream state I was flooded with memories from another lifetime. I played the piano, and very well. I had a small white dog. I was a bit of a socialite, though I wasn't clear on the source of my standing. Was it purely economic or talent?

I found myself there again last night - in Paris - walking along the gas lamp-lit street with a young man. I could see my dress shoes and my skirt with its layered flounce at the bottom, and I laughed flirtatiously while we discussed a story printed in the news.

Unlike the reincarnational story that became Timeless Waters, I have no idea what message, if any, that lifetime in Paris holds for me in my present reality. It is, though, a lovely reminder that each of us is far more than we know, and glimpsing that totality is not only available to us, but our birthright.

What a joyful ride it is!

Many Blessings,

Beyond Positive Thinking

“Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in

             Overalls and looks like work.” – Thomas Edison              

 An interesting thing happened this week. In a multitude of forms, I was hit with the very familiar concept of creating our own realities through our thoughts.

It started when a dear friend of mine who needs some change in her life told me that she watched the movie The Secret. Though I have never seen the movie, I did finally listen to the audio book a few years ago and rather enjoyed it. In fact, if I am heading to work and find myself worried or stressed, I will plug it for a quick “attitude adjustment.” So, clearly I think it is good stuff: visualize what you want your life to be, feel the emotion, use positive affirmations and let the universe know what you want.

Yet, over and over again, through Timeless Waters, lectures, and everyday life, I have talked to people of similar “persuasion” who are frustrated because their lives ultimately stay the same. In truth, sometimes I find myself once again running in my hamster wheel, and the conversation is with my self!  

The reason for this is actually very simple. Visualizing, tapping into the emotion of already having what we desire, and positive affirmations are a great first step. But we still have to do something; identify our hidden barriers, make a change, or take action -- something. All of the “success stories” we hear of people manifesting their dreams? They did manifest their dreams: they visualized what they wanted, felt it, and went after it.

This amazing Universe has multiple opportunities and probabilities on offer for each of us, and we can draw these to ourselves. But only we can turn those opportunities into reality, and that is by doing something, even if it one baby step toward what it is we say we want.

Love and Light,

Sheryl

Changing Seasons

“To everything there is a season.”  So says Ecclesiastes, but I always hear Pete Seeger’s lyrics that became an international hit when sung by the Byrds in 1965, “To everything turn, turn, turn….”

We all have our own seasons. Yet, so often we are not able to honor them. Real life--our jobs, responsibilities and obligations—can dictate our lives for us. Still, we know when our internal seasons are changing; we feel it in every cell of our beings, and if we are not consciously aware, our lives and bodies show us.

A year ago I began to experience a shift in my own internal seasons and was not able to honor them, which was not good for me. After a year of trying to create an opportunity to rectify that (and the long journey it was to get it approved), I have begun my own attempt at honoring my seasons; a two month break. I am calling it a sabbatical of my own making; I have had my season of planting for 25 years, and now it is time to reap. “There is a season, turn, turn, turn…”

            I have goals for this time away from my job: enjoy more relaxed time with my kids, work on projects, write, and just “be” at a slower pace than is my normal life. But I realized Monday that letting go and slowing down is going to be a process; a downshifting. I spent two days completing and finalizing my workbook (a Timeless Waters companion of sorts, helping us better understand the various levels through which we create our own realities). I’ve cleaned out drawers, cleaned carpet, and organized my creative work space. Slowing down yes, but still moving at 90 miles an hour!

            But what I want most out of this time is clarity. I seek the mental space to consider where I have been, what I have accomplished and what I have valued most in my life and endeavors over the past 25 years. What metaphorical drawers of the way I have been living need to be cleaned out? And if I had the chance to consciously fill the drawers of my life with something new, what would that be?

            This may be quite ambitious; particularly for a woman who has only just begun the process of trying to release the knots of life. I also know the kind of clarity I seek may take far more time than I have off.  But I am determined. Determined to establish a life that allows me to honor my seasons, and determined to consciously create more of what fills my “drawers,” my time, my mind, and my heart.

May we all honor our seasons,

Sheryl

Opportunity

"To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow."

                                          -  Audrey Hepburn

It’s Saturday morning. I sit with my tea, having just finished my morning meditation. It’s cool outside, but the sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and the trees are coming back to life. After what has been a long winter for most of us across the country, spring is finally here!

As much as I love the warmer months, each year, I get overwhelmed by the work required to maintain the yard and all the beds. Mind you, the yard was one of the things I fell in love with when my boys and I needed to find a new home four years ago. My blessing is my curse; isn’t that how life goes? So last week, I began the task of spring cleanup.

I supervised my son as he mowed the yard. I pulled weeds that have already taken root. I raked leaves, laid newspaper for weed prevention in beds that don’t have perennials, and hauled mulch. My back hurts, I’m tired, and I have another 60% to go! It is tedious, but also a tremendous joy. Why, you ask? I think it’s because there is something cathartic about the smell of the earth. There is something wonderfully healing and symbolic in clearing out the old to find small perennials pushing through the soil in their annual rebirth; as without, so within.

I feel somewhat confident that I wrote a similar post last spring. Forgive my redundancy, but the symbolism is a moving meditation; a reminder of the connection to the earth and our own journey of “rebirth.” I suspect my heart will be filled with gratitude next spring as well, and I will share it again.

Cut back the old, clear out the debris, reveal the new, and plant the seeds of a new beginning. What better opportunity can any of us ask for?

My dirty jeans and gloves await me!

Many Blessings

Sheryl

Exploration

Greetings!

            I had a moment this past week that touched me in such a way that I wanted to share it with you.

My sons are getting older and, knowing that the years are dwindling that they might be willing to spend part of their spring break with me, I decided we would go on an impromptu trip to Carlsbad Caverns in southern New Mexico. It had been on my “mental list” of things I wanted to do with them before they were grown for several years, so I made the proposal and it was accepted. I checked the expiration date on my National Park annual pass, booked a room in Carlsbad, printed off the directions on Mapquest, and we were off!

We arrived in the early afternoon the next day and explored what we could of the caves on our own. The next morning, we did a tour that took us into an area of the cavern called the King’s Palace and the Queen’s Chambers. Through the expertise of the guide (I do love the National Park system) we learned more about how the caverns were formed and were taken into portions you can only enter with a park ranger.

Needless to say, the caverns are about as awe inspiring as any natural landscape I have ever experienced, and more than once, I tears filled my eyes. I found myself contemplating this amazing formation beneath the surface of the Guadalupe Mountains dating back 3.9 to 4 million years. While there is evidence that ancient people were aware of the caverns by petroglyphs found outside the 90 foot natural entrance at the top, I wondered how far they could have traveled down into the depths without the use of a lantern with fuel. Were the depths really just explored in the late 1800’s?

As we stood in King’s Palace, I had a moment; a moment in which I truly grasped the magnitude of where I was and the miracle that life on this planet earth is. It was one of those fleeting moments in which an awareness of self in relation to the spectrum of space and time felt within my reach and comprehension; a moment in which I was both humbled by my own insignificance in the realm of creation and awe struck that I was somehow a participant in it.

 

These lives we are living are but a blip on the radar screen of linear time. Yet within our lives, there is uncharted territory to be covered, awareness to be gained, adventure to be sought, and deep, magnificent caverns of Self to be explored.

It is all here, just waiting for us.

Many Blessings,

Sheryl 

Go.Create.Release.

I had been living in a space of creativity and inspiration, and felt I was in perfect balance. But then the stressors of my “real” job took over, and alas, I found myself derailed. My job is a big job. It’s an important job that ultimately has to do with services to abused and neglected children, so of course I let it take over when it must. But honestly, I don’t want it to be all of me.

When I awoke this morning, I had an agenda; to get back on track. It is a cold day, and the sleet is pattering against the windows. How perfect a day to build a fire, drink mugs of hot lemon water (in attempt to cut down on the Bailey’s and coffee) and curl up on the couch with my laptop, right? Easier said than done! I looked at the projects I had been working on the past few weeks and became overwhelmed at everything I was going to have to do to make them a more perfect product.

I also made the mistake of reading a blog about how long a novel should be. I then did a word count on my own novel, which I am revising and putting in first person, finally ready to fully own the experience that led to its writing. I felt my heart drop into my stomach; Timeless Waters was about 900 words to short for industry standard. I failed. I mean, who would want to read a book that was 69,100 words when it should be at least 70,000?

Then it happened; the downward spiral of self doubt and self questioning .WHAT ON EARTH did I think I was doing? Why did I ever publish that book? I wanted to go hide in my hole.

And then I remembered how much I had felt inspired to work on the projects. Not only that, I had just written about the importance of following “the nudge.” Was I going to walk my talk? So, I made myself that cup of Bailey’s and coffee and pulled out my laptop.

If we wait for our projects to be perfect, for our ideas to be polished, or for someone else’s approval, most of our ideas will never be released into the world. They will sit on a desk or a hard drive, or worse, they will whither away in the back of our minds, never to have a chance to be set free or shared with others. To hell with that—life is too short!

Go - Create - Release. 

Warning! Expect more not-so-perfect things from me, just like this!

Many Blessings,

Sheryl 

Honoring "the nudge"

Hello Kindred Spirits!

First, thanks to all who have responded and signed up for the email list after the technological travesty that resulted in its demise. Perhaps it will rebuild and be better than ever, yes?

It has been an interesting few weeks for me. My “real” job has been quite turbulent, yet at the same time I have been feeling oddly creative. I want nothing more than to hole up with my laptop and let it pour out of me -- Which brings me to what I want to share with you today: honoring “the nudge.”

Last week, a small book idea that came to me last summer as I sat on the beach was front and center in my mind. It is a little book about burnout for executive directors of nonprofits, which I am in my day job. I sat down, and over the course of a week, the  bones of that little book was written, just like that. Imagine me snapping my fingers for full effect! It literally just poured out of me.

Around the same time last week, I started feeling the strong sense that I am supposed to rewrite Timeless Waters in the first person, which it actually was in its first draft. I am asking myself, why on earth would I need to do that? When will I find the time?  But I have felt the nudge, heard the call, felt the pull. Needless to say, I imagine sometime soon I will sit down and try a rewrite….

            The nudge can be an inspirational idea that makes you want to act. It can be a nagging feeling in your gut. It can be a series of roadblocks that keep redirecting you until you finally get it, or it can be a faint whisper on the wind that you might not even realize you heard.

We feel the nudge to do things; call an old friend, take a different route to work, create, start a project, go back to school. Yet, when receiving that gentle push, we often don’t listen. We tell ourselves it is a silly idea or all the reasons we shouldn’t even bother. But what if that nudge you feel, that “crazy” idea, is Spirit’s way of gently guiding you in a direction that will make you happy, enrich your life, or help someone else? 

Spirit communicates, in a multitude of ways. Our one and only job is to listen.

Many Blessings,

Sheryl

Meditation

“For what is prayer but expansion of your self into the living ether?”                                             - Kahlil Gibran

 “In the modern world, meditation is far more effective as a technique of self-management than as a means of personal transformation, much less enlightenment,” was what I read this morning as I sipped my tea, scrolling through articles in the New York Times. I should probably mention that this was after my daily ritual of meditation and prayer.

There was something about the article I fundamentally disagreed with. Later, I went back to it again with an open mind; in hope that it would help me better understand the perspective of the writer. As I did so, I began to recognize the degree to which meditation has been adapted to fit our cultural expectations. We in the west like data that demonstrates proof that something is worth our time and effort. Claims that meditation lowers cortisol levels, reduces stress, increases job performance, aids in alleviating depression, and improves a sense of well being and inner peace are the “whys;” the reasons that meditation has in many ways made it’s way into our mainstream, and even corporate, culture. As I read on, I noted that the article was speaking of mindfulness meditation; a practice with roots in Buddhism that has become a part of our mainstream definition of meditation—which I admittedly know very little about. In my more than 25 years of meditation, I simply have never pursued that method of reaching a meditative state.

I have always thought of meditation as reaching out to God (Spirit or All That Is), and in the silence and stillness, listening. For me, it is not a health/stress reduction practice, but a spiritual connection, the steps to which are a well worn path. Through it I have gained insight and clarity on my life circumstances.

There is what I call the waiting; my internal chatter still at play, I sit patiently waiting for that subtle shift in my consciousness which enables me to feel the presence. 

Then there is the connection; I let that energetic presence flow through me and surround me. And as I do so, move deeper and deeper into a meditative state. 

And last there is the return; I open my eyes, not remembering exactly where I have been, but filled with a sense of awe and peace.

I will never know what my life would have been like the past 25 years without my meditative practice, and in spite of it I have had my share of tough times and heartache. I will never know if meditation helped facilitate the experience that led to the writing of Timeless Waters, or if that past life journey would have happened anyway.

What I do know is that when Gibran refers to prayer as “the expansion on your self into the living ether,” it speaks to my soul. The living ether is home, and I hope to visit it many times before I return for good.

Blessings,

Sheryl

Living a conscious life

“The time to repair the roof is when the sun is shining.”

-   John F. Kennedy

2014 began with a bang. A flurry of professional activity lay in front of me that first week back at work; meetings out of town, funding issues, presentations to prepare for. My work for abused and neglected children is something I love, but as the holidays came to an end, I found myself feeling hesitancy and a little dread. I just wasn’t quite ready to return. It didn’t help that over the month of December I had completed my second draft of a workbook I started writing two years ago about the ways in which we create our realities, or that I spent New Year’s Day with a group of friends meditating, releasing the old and taking steps to create 2014 with intention. Who wouldn’t want to stay in that space forever?

Into reality I dove, head first, and it wasn’t bad. As I said, I really love my work. But as I sat in an out of state meeting the following weekend, something wasn’t right. Was my head going to explode? What was the strange pain I was feeling? Lo and behold, upon my return, I was diagnosed with shingles.

I of course asked myself, “Why are you manifesting this?” Likeminded friends asked, “What is your body trying to tell you?”  Stress is number one, but that’s obvious. So I went deeper, asking questions such as why did this nasty virus that has been dormant for forty one years choose this particular time to make its self visible. Or did I simply need a reason to stay home for a few days without feeling guilty? (By the way, it didn’t work. I felt guilty).

            Regardless of the many ideas I have about the above questions (and I do indeed have some!), I need to gently acknowledge that my roof is broken, which is probably why, when it rains, I get soaking wet. This really should come as no surprise; I have been putting patches on my roof for a while, which I imagine is the case for many of us.

I can beat myself up for letting myself get so run down that the chicken pox I had when I was four have come back to haunt me with a vengeance, but that isn’t productive. Nor can I do anything to change the past. Figuratively speaking, it’s raining right now, so it’s not an ideal time to make any repairs. But I have a month of healing ahead of me, and in that there is time to think about what I will do differently when the sun comes out again.

Here’s to living a conscious life!

Blessings,

Sheryl

January 2014

“For last year's words belong to last year's language and next year's words await another voice.” 

— T.S. Eliot

In what has now become a tradition, I hosted my annual New Year’s gathering; a lovely brunch and women’s circle, complete with a preparatory assignment and a ritual of release. As we sat in an opening meditation and prayer, I felt a powerful energy surging through the room as these women, all amazing in their own unique ways, joined their intentions.

The closing activity was to write a letter to your self, just as we did last year. Because I already had given it some thought, I knew the overall tone of what I would be writing, but first things first; I needed to read what I wrote January 1, 2013. I tore the envelope and gently unfolded the paper, unable to remember what I had to say to myself twelve months ago.

As I read the first paragraph, my heart began to sink. “What?” I said to myself.  Much to my surprise, it was in many ways the same letter I was going to write myself this year. How, after what felt like a year of growth, could that be? Had I made no progress whatsoever?

 When my guests were gone and the kitchen had been cleaned, I sat down with the letter, the journal I had started last winter, and began a “year in review” through my writing. As I read my inner thoughts and feeling states in my journal entries, it slowly became clear that the overarching themes pressing me forward at the beginning of 2013 are, in fact, the same as they are today. But I also realized I am not the same person I was when I wrote a year ago; my insight has expanded, my understanding has deepened, and my joys were many.

So, now I must find next year’s voice. Within the context of those consistent overarching themes, who do I want to be? What do I want to accomplish? What dream can I bring to fruition? As I sit down to write my letter for 2014, I am not quite sure what the answers are to those questions. But I can say I am excited to find out.

Many Blessings in this New Year,

Sheryl