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

Timeless Discoveries

On occasion, we post quotes on the Timeless Waters’ Facebook page. Sometimes they are of the inspirational sort, with a lovely picture in the background. As can be expected, people often comment or discuss the origin of an idea. Recently, a comment was made that a quote shouldn't have been attributed to the writer because it was actually an ancient idea, spoken by many before him, with its roots in Buddhism.

This comment, of course, was correct. Eckhart Tolle was not the originator of the idea; he is just one of many voices over the course of time carrying the message to the masses. Yet, this notion that certain spiritual revelations can be attributed to a specific origin is an interesting one, and one that reminded me of a recent experience.

I was packing up for a trip to the beach, an annual event I now share with my two sons. My perspective was one of heaviness from the previous few months; months in which I felt the culmination of years of working hard and pushing forward to meet all the demands and responsibilities in front of me. But now I felt the stirring of possibilities, or perhaps the recreating of a life that was no longer serving me.

As I walked onto the plane, for some reason the title of a book I had seen countless times as a child, tucked away on my mother’s bookshelf, came to mind: Gift From the Sea. I pondered the words and then wondered to myself, what gifts would the sea reveal to me? Filled with the expectation of these gifts, I was not let down. My gift was a subtle shift in consciousness; a shift that, with intention, could create a new trajectory for my life.

Upon returning from our stay at the beach, I decided I should, perhaps, read that little book with the title that had served as my meditative inspiration. The first smile crossed my lips while reading Ann Morrow Lindbergh’s introduction:

“Besides, not all women are searching for a new pattern of living, or want a contemplative corner of their own…(Yet) in varying settings and under different forms, I discovered that many women, and men, too, were grappling with essentially the same questions as I…Even those whose lives had appeared to be ticking imperturbably under their smiling clock faces were often trying, like me, to evolve another rhythm with more creative pauses in it, more adjustment to their individual needs and new and more alive relationships to themselves as well as others.”

What I read on the pages, while couched by Lindbergh in the culture and expectations of 1955, described the same conundrum I too had come to face. And just as Lindbergh collected shells and wrote what they represented to her as she sought the path to a more inward life, I too collected shells after my days of meditation and journaling by the sea. Only shell fragments did I gather, and they sit next to me as I write this in a small, square, glass vase, serving as a reminder that only I can pick up the pieces of my life when I begin to crumble.

 When an individual experiences new and life altering awareness, it doesn't matter what books have been written about it; it is new, and no less profound than it was to an individual living 2000 years ago. It is the cracking of a shell that holds within it understanding that can only be obtained through conscious living and introspection. The more people that share their new found wisdom with us, the more we are shown what we share, what the universe has on offer to us, and what we can become. They are timeless discoveries.

Many Blessings,

Sheryl