A Long Winter's Night

 

As I watched January come to a close, I breathed a sigh of relief. In spite of the festivity at the beginning on the New Year--the dreaming of what we want the upcoming year to hold and the goals we want to meet—for me it has historically been one of the most difficult months. Perhaps it is the cold of winter, or the clouds, or the post festivity dip? I am not sure, but for the longest time I have given poor January a bad rap.

As much as this is the case, I also know that every coin has two sides, and January has its own beauty and symbolism. Added to the calendar in circa 700 B.C., the month is named in honor of Janus, the Roman god of gates and doorways. The image of Janus is depicted with two faces looking in opposite directions.

The symbolism of that speaks to something in the deepest recesses of my being; the part of me that feels such an internal struggle this time of year. One might say that the two faces looking in opposite directions represent the past and future. But for me, it represents two opposing aspects of Self. The first is the aspect that inherently turns inward this time of year; a hibernation of sorts. The other is the part that must continue to operate and exist in the outer world, setting sight on the future.

January is like a long winter’s night. The pull is to delve inward and the yearning to quietly curl up by the fire and simply be with Self, yet we still have the push of daily life- complete with new goals, dreams and aspirations. In that light, my inner conflict with January makes so much sense.

In more traditional terms, Janus has invited us to reevaluate where we have been and set our sights on where we are heading. In order to do that, we must honor both sides of ourselves, each looking in opposite directions.

We now stand at the threshold of Janus’s doorway. Let us each pass through it with wisdom, understanding, and inner peace.

Many Blessings,
Sheryl

Happiness

Years ago, I had a repeated conversation with a dear friend of mine about what it meant to be “happy.” Neither could adequately explain our concept of what happiness was, but when he disagreed with my idea that it had to do with contentment, I gathered his sense of it was different than mine. This elusive concept of happiness; what is it?

When I think back to when I was in early adulthood, I felt most happy when I was seeking an experience, going someplace new, and feeling like I was living my life with gusto. As I got a little bit older, my emphasis shifted. I met someone, got married, had kids, built a home and life in all the ways that we are raised to believe are related to happiness.

In a nutshell, happiness was about the HIGHS in life.

I had an idea of what happiness was and what it might look like. What I now see is that it is possible to have picture perfect moments and experiences in life that make us feel those highs we think of as happiness, but at the same time have an undercurrent of discontent.

Another decade has almost passed. The pieces of my puzzle “fell apart,” and being a single mom, my adventures and ability to live my life with gusto are slightly reduced. Yet, for some reason, I am content in a way I have never felt before. My life and heart are full, and I go to sleep each night with a sense of joy and peace.

Coming back to the original question, what is this elusive thing we call happiness? Going back to my original thought that it was related to being content, I took it upon myself to look up the definition of “content” and this is what it said:

                          

                       “a state of peaceful happiness; satisfied, pleased, fulfilled….”

And I let out a deep sigh…. this is what happy feels like. 

Many Blessings,

Sheryl

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,