Taking flight

“You, bird, will live in the trees and fly through the air, reaching the realm of the clouds, touching the clear skies of the heavens, and you will not fear falling.”
Poetic Translation of Popol Vuh (Mayan Creation Myth)

We found this little robin’s nest and eggshell right outside our back door.  We’ve so loved it that it’s been on our “nature table” all spring and summer (aka the center of our kitchen table).

For me, this summer has felt like spring.  Not outside, that’s for sure.  But rather inside my heart space.

Spring.  The season of new possibilities.  Birth.  Life outside the nest.

I am “outside the nest” now more than a few years ago when I was busy birthing babies.  I am still drawn back to my usual “earth element” of hearth and home, barefoot in the grass and connecting to the earth.  But right now, I find myself being called to taking flight.

To sweep down and “touch” a story in my heart without getting pulled into it.  To fly alongside the flow of my thoughts, like a bird flying alongside a river, without getting tossed into the waters of deeply entrenched patterns of thinking.    To explore the landscapes of possible paths before me, before our family, without committing to one and  writing it in stone.

This is refreshing.

The air element encourages me to stay light.  It gives me permission to change directions, taking on a new perspective very easily, moving through an array of emotions swiftly and effortlessly, and dabbling in new ways of thinking, being, relating and doing – like I’m trying on new new clothes and styles.  It encourages me to see the big picture and take in the whole landscape rather than getting lost in the weeds.

I hear thoughts such as “Oh this is easy!”  And “Try a new way.  Here’s one!”  And “Choose what is fun to do.”  And…”No biggie.” And “I don’t need to get mired in this.”

I feel things like “soft” and “free” and “unbridled” and “light” and “quiet ”  – the kind of quiet you hear standing on top of a mountain.

And like a bird, I don’t fear falling.  The graces of gravity, the winds, the hand of the Divine lift me into the spaciousness of the heavens where I can soar, listening only to the wind, my breath, and my Heart.

I have no idea where these winds will take me.  But I am enjoying the flight.

Holy Saturday: the space between death and birth

one leaf

This is a reprint from Holy Saturday 2007…

Do you have the patience to wait till your mud settles and the water is clear? Can you remain unmoving until the right action arises by itself? – Tao Te Ching

Birthing my son is the closest I have come to touching the hem of Death.  In Tibet, they say childbirth is the closest one comes to death.  I’d believe it. Mystically speaking, I find myself now in the space between death and birth.

Yesterday my good friend Cynthia reminded me of Holy Saturday.  Jesus is dead; his body is in the tomb.  The rug has been pulled out from underneath his family and friends.  Each is reacting in his or her own way.  Some are freaking out, others want answers.

On Holy Saturday, nothing appears to be happening.  What is known is that Jesus is dead.  What is unknown is who they are to become – as individuals and as a community.  That is yet to be born.

Holy Saturday – the space between death and birth.

We find ourselves touching the hem of Death and yet reaching for the apron strings of Birth when we go through a transition in life.

The self I was before my son’s birth is no longer.  Who I am to be is still being birthed.  The Buddha teaches that there really is no self – self is an illusion.  There is only Oneness.

Maybe Holy Saturday is a call for us to let go of our illusions of even death and birth…to go deeper into our Oneness – our true essence.

It is a time of staying with yourself until the chattering mind quiets down and you come face-to-face with a glimpse of your true essence.

This can be scary at first.  We may freak out like the apostles in the upper room.  We may mourn our own death like the women who went to tend to Jesus’ body.  We may want to have control over something like Peter.

And yet, we want to let go.  We feel the call within us to let go of our ego’s grip on the false stories of birth and death we’ve been telling ourselves.  We are drawn into the deeper waters of the Unknown.

The only way I know how to “let go” is to be fully present with the experience of Holy Saturday.  To be present with the fear of losing what is known.  To be present with the hope that what emerges is something filled with abundance and beauty.

And how do we do let go?

- Well, whatever it is that is dying – whatever it is that is still yet to be birthed—we breathe with it.

-  We “send” compassion to that space within us.

-  We have the courage to breathe, cry, reach out, and wait until the mud settles and the water is clear.

-  We have the courage to hope that if we remain unmoving – fully present to what is happening within us and around us – the next right action with arise by itself.

Copyright. 2013. All rights reserved. No portion of any post may be copied without written permission from the author. The advice offered herein does not constitute a substitute for professional psychological treatment, therapy, or other types of professional advice and intervention. The self-help contents are solely the opinion of the blogger and should not be considered as a form of therapy, advice, direction and/or diagnosis or treatment of any kind: medical, spiritual, mental, or other. If expert advice or counseling is needed, the services of a competent professional should be sought.
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