Gem of Wisdom: Remember you are the ocean

Love has the final say.  I do believe that in the end, we come from love and we return to love.  Love and wholeness are our birthright.  But when we are suffering, it can seem like our suffering will never end.  Love, life, hope…all seem to be too flowery, wimpy, or way far off and unavailable.

Think of suffering as a wave.  Regard your anxious thoughts, your bouts of anger, your grief late at night…all as waves.  Sometimes your grief can seem like a wave that goes on forever.  Sometimes your anger seems like a wave that tosses you around.  Sometimes your anxiety feels like a wave that washes over you several times a day.  But…it is a wave.  And it belongs to the ocean.  It rises from (and in) the ocean, and it returns to the ocean.

There is something within you that is bigger than the wave, that holds the wave.  There is something within you that is the ocean.  Call it Self or God…whatever language resonates with you.  But YOU are the ocean. The Love and Light that is within you – that is the ocean.  The “voice within”, the Spirit within, the Sacred Space within you – this is the ocean.  The waves are a part of you, but you are much more than the waves.  You are the ocean.

You call forth the waves.  You call them back to you.  They belong to you.  They may rise and cause some commotion on the surface.  But your deep waters know a deeper truth than the illusion you are temporarily believing in the middle of experiencing a wave.

Go to these deep waters when you are suffering.  Trust the gem of wisdom these deep waters speak to you.  Find a steadiness here that is a refreshing relief from the surface waters that change with every shift in your emotional weather system.

And ultimately, you will experience and know in your bones, you are the ocean.  You are love.  And it IS Love that will have the final say, no matter how strong or long the wave of suffering.

The next time you experience an unpleasant wave and you are suffering, say to yourself:  “I remember now that I am the ocean.”  And watch the wave rise, fall, and return back to you as the ocean. 

It sounds simple.  And it is.  But it’s not easy.  When we are suffering, everything in us wants to tighten up, get control, get a grip.  It takes conscious, mindfulness effort to remember to soften and say to ourselves, “I am not only this wave.  I am the ocean.”  And it takes discipline to say it again and again and again in the throws of the habitual waves we are used to experiencing.  So take heart.  Be gentle with yourself.  And if I can support you with  mindfulness coaching or anything else, please…contact me.

Blessings,

Lisa

** Need support in riding the waves?  I can support you with mindful coaching.  Over the phone, over skype, or in person, I work with folks who want to live with more delight, compassion, and connection in their everyday lives…waves and all!  I am also a body-centered psychotherapist and yoga teacher offering individual sessions and group workshops and retreats.  Visit the Barefoot Barn for more information on our services or contact me with questions, to schedule a time to talk, or learn more.

Everyday Courage

a gem i created!

Sometimes the most courageous thing we do in a day is say, “yes.”  Yes to the mess and the imperfect.  Yes to looking at our children with regard, and softly saying, “You matter.”  Yes to responding to our partners with eyes of compassion instead of reacting out of our habitual ways of closing off our hearts.  Yes to writing one more page in the book we were born to create.  Yes to treating ourselves with tenderness.  Yes to the power of gentleness.

I believe that bravery isn’t about being fearless.   It’s about daring to be our vulnerable, real, not-all-together selves and finding the miraculous right here within us and our everyday lives.

That’s courage. 

To be vulnerable — with our own selves, with each other…to dare to say “I love you” and not hold back, to dare to move closer instead of reacting in our habitual ways by pulling back, to speak up for something we believe in even when our voice is shaky or tears come streaming down.

To be real — not someone else, not what anyone else wants or what society wants us to be…but what we KNOW in our bones is our truth.  To speak it.  To live it.  To be it.

To be our “not-all-together-selves” — imperfect.  To “mess up” and give ourselves a dose of compassion and begin again.

To find the miraculous in the mess right here –  YES.  If we are going to be “happy” then it’s RIGHT HERE.  It has to be found right here.  Not on some Caribbean island or at the bottom of a cookie jar — that’s the mind looking for happiness in the wrong place — outside of ourselves.  Nope.  HAPPINESS is a CHOICE.  And it takes courage to orient our hearts and minds to NOTICING the miraculous RIGHT HERE in our everyday lives — the way your daughter’s eyelashes curl, the mere size and shape of your son’s growing hand (almost bigger than yours!), how the snow sparkles at night, the morning light dancing in through your windows, the softness of a blanket wrapped around you, the delight of running into a friend as you are out and about… THESE are the precious and miraculous of our day.  THIS is what saves us.  THIS is how we choose happiness.

To find the miraculous within us — YES.  WITHIN US.  So so often I hear the harsh things people tell themselves — the daily voices in one’s head incessantly saying, “You aren’t enough,” “Who are you to believe you are worth loving?”, “Why even try?  You’ll mess up”…etc etc.  Enough.  Practice softening.  Practicing being breathed.  Practice gentleness.

It takes COURAGE to live this way.  Why?  Because we live in a culture where this isn’t the “norm.”  We are wired to have a bias toward the negative.  BUT we are also wired for compassion, for empathy, for making wise decisions and enlightenment.  And what do I mean by “enlightenment”?  Union with (however you define) the Divine.

Yes, dear ones, it takes courage to find the Divine, right here in our everyday lives.  But…it is here.  All around us.  I see it in you — your writing, your voice, the way your hair curls, the laugh lines on your face, the boldness of your brown eyes, your aging hands, the stories you tell, the way you come up with these hilarious one liners, the courage you have to get up every morning…and love.

So keep saying YES!  Yes to the mess, to loving, to softening, to the imperfect, to the unexpected, to the joy, to the sadness, to the miraculous…right here.

Love,

Lisa

 

**  Check out this piece from a TED video on GRATITUDE… “if you do nothing else than notice the great gift this great day is…if you learn to respond as if it is the first day of your life and the last day of your life, you will have spent it well.”

 

A poem to me on my 39th birthday

(A poem for me, to me, on my 39th birthday, shared as prayer with you)…

Embodied

The other night, I watched a video of me that Brian recently filmed.
It was me leading a meditation.
Half way through, I stopped and paused it.

I sat there, staring

at the still frame shot of me. The incessant self-doubt
that strangled my joy for years was simply

not true. I could no longer deny what I now saw before me.
Here was the evidence.

“I see it,” I whispered in the silence of my heart,
“I see what my mother has seen all these years.

I am exquisite.

I embody the life I have led,
the years and hours of meditation and kindness and metta,
meltdowns and cries, softening and letting go
practiced on my cushion,
on the earth dancing and sweating my chants to the Divine,

in our kitchen cutting grapes for toddlers,
tired, alone, longing, yearning, returning
always

right here
to my life as practice, in the car

handing back snacks to hungry little ones wondering if I’ll rest today,
in our bed nursing a newborn in the early hours before dawn,
making love to Brian when we should be sleeping but

returning Home to our bodies reciting poetry to the Divine,

rising early with my prayer shawl wrapped around my growing belly,
sitting in silence until a baby cries and my feet take me to them,
somehow in the dark, and my arms become their shawl…

again and again,
through the doubt and the worry
the shame and the regret
the wondering and the wounds
the mistakes and the miraculous
the cooing and the sighing
the obsessing and

the letting go,

returning

again and again
to the Divine
within.

I already embody what I longed for,
what I thought was missing,
what I believed I was ‘not yet:’

I am sensual and beautiful.”

The words escaped my heart before they could be squelched
by analysis or habitual practices of learning to not be powerful…
and know it. Spoken into existence, they flew

out into the world and danced,

and then back into me
as prayer, as breath,
to be breathed

and then exhaled
as blessing.

Lisa A. McCrohan, © 2013

Forgive Yourself

Forgive yourself.  The best gift you can give yourself (and others!) might be to forgive yourself.  To let yourself off the hook.  To give yourself a break.  You’ve carried the memory of something you’ve done too long now, soul sister, on those precious shoulders of yours.  Those harsh words you whisper to yourself every day keep you in perpetual penance.

There is a benevolent presence that holds all of this life.  This world.  Yesterday, today and tomorrow.  Whatever your creed, ultimately the last thing that remains is Love.  Whether you believe in a god, many gods, an essence, consciousness, it is benevolent.  Total, complete understanding and regard.  You belong to it.

When we embrace our goodness and remember that we belong to this benevolent forgiveness, light enters into every cell of our bodies.  Clarity arises.  We feel connected to every heart and being deepen.  We soften.

So in this holiday season of gift giving and receiving, join me!  Forgive yourself…over and over again.  For the everyday ways you are human and “mess up.”  For not saying or doing the kind thing.  For speaking harshly, ignoring, hurting, and turning away.  Put your hand on that beautiful heart of yours and say, “I see you.  I forgive you.”  Whisper it, shout it, dance it as many times as you need to.

Each time you say, “I see you.  I forgive you” a space emerges.  An abundance of light, sweetness, and delight fills you and spills out into the world.  Your words with others become softer.  Harsh judgment softens.  Your very presence becomes a healing space for others to forgive their own selves.

Facing fear, living life

Maybe it’s because I’ll be turning 40 in a year.  Maybe it’s because there’s this tender “knowing” rising up into my conscious mind, influencing even my mundane everyday decisions.  Maybe it’s because giving birth brought me to my most raw, vulnerable, warrior, grace-surrending self.  Maybe because I’ve survived six years of parenthood.  Maybe it’s because touching life so tenderly every day in two growing, beautiful children makes me touch the reality of life’s companion, death.  Maybe it’s all of these and more I can’t name quite yet happening within me.

But I get it:  THIS IS IT.  This life will end.  Maybe not tomorrow or next year.  Maybe not for another 40 years.  But me, you, we are all of the nature to grow old and ca-puuuut.  I don’t know when that last breath will be.  I don’t know for certain if I’ll see my children grow old and have babies and I’ll be that grandmother holding her grandchildren with wise eyes and slow hands.  When I get in the car to commute down 270, I don’t know if the goodnight kiss I gave my husband the night before will be the last one.  I just don’t know.

In this culture, we loath aging.  We don’t talk about dying.  And so we live in a way where we take it all for granted.  Or at least many of us do.  I do — more than I care to admit.  But the truth is that there’s no getting around it — we will cease to exist.  All we love, cherish…it’ll all end some day.

But this doesn’t have to be a downer.  Over the last six years, something in me has been consciously aware of and quietly noticing…sitting back and reaalllly watching this life and hearing Her whispers.  “This is it, Lisa.  Bless it.  Notice it.  Live it.  Let it go.”

Even in my early thirties, though of course, I “knew” we all die, that fact never really seeped into my conscious awareness and my everyday actions.  Still today, I act like I have forever.  But more and more, I see how there is an end approaching.  It doesn’t really matter what I believe happens after this life, the fact is that THIS life, this very one, will cease to exist.

And somehow, in that sitting, in that knowing, in that allowing of death to “come closer,” I am being transformed.  And it has prompted me to live.  To live more fully, ferociously, quietly, contently, honestly, gently, and…tenderly.

How?

One way:  I am facing my fears.  I have always been petrified of snakes, ever since a baaaad dream about them when I was a child.  Aware of how, in many cultures, the snake represents the feminine in all her power, I have sat in meditation many-a-times drawing closer and closer to that powerful, sensual Feminine force…within me and the Divine.  But still scared. Until a week ago.

I had a dream where my two year old, old-soul daughter was holding a snake.  It was wrapped around her arms and shoulders.  She was completely enthralled, even content and “at home.”  She told me the snake just wanted to nuzzle up next to her for warmth and comfort.  And she was happy to oblige.

Fast forward a few days.  We were our amazing local nature center for a birthday party.  I knew they’d bring out the animals, including snakes.  I decided that when it came around to it, I’d hold the snake.  And I did.

facing my fear! holding a snake

Petrified, I breathed.  I opened up to letting go of the past stories I’ve told myself about snakes.  I opened up to having no expectation or hope for the future about me and snakes.  I just opened up to THAT VERY MOMENT of holding the snake — with no past, no future.  Just noticing and being present to the sensations of holding this snake.  And it was….ok.  I noticed how strong this little snake was — how she wrapped herself around my arm.  I noticed how she moved so slowly and gracefully and quietly…and purposefully.

Now a week later, something in me is changing.  I still don’t know what it is quite yet.  Maybe it’s more of Life and Death and the Divine whispering: “Wake up, sweet Love.  It’s time.”  Maybe it’s the quietness of fear dissolving, illusions fading:  “I could run into a snake and not be freaked out.”  Maybe it’s truth and true power rising:  “This is your life, Lisa.  Notice it.  Hold it.  Bless it.  And let it go.”

So I am.  Day by day.

Each time you judge yourself, you break your own heart…

see the goodness that you are

 
“My beloved child, break your heart no longer.
Each time you judge yourself, you break your own heart.
You stop feeding on the love which is the wellspring of your vitality.
The time has come.
Your time.
To celebrate.
And to see the goodness that you are.
You, my child, are divine.
You are pure.
You are sublimely free.
Let no one, no thing, no idea or ideal obstruct you.
If one comes, even in the name of ‘Truth’, forgive it for its unknowing.
Do not fight.
Let go.
You are God in disguise and you are always perfectly safe.
Do not fight the dark. Just turn on the light.
Let go and breathe into the goodness that you are.”

Swami Kripalvanandaji (Bapuji)
as copied from
“Radical Acceptance: Embracing Your Life with the Heart of a Buddha”
by Tara Brach

Sacred Softening

Sacred Softening

My body knows
has always known
my way back to God.

I dance
moving in slow sensual swirls
under the vastness of a moon-lit night

swaying until stillness fills every cell
and there are no hard edges
striving, panting, thinking

only breath
and heart.

Empty now,
I open into spaciousness

becoming the brilliant Night Jewel
boldly, gently shimmering her soft light.

And I discover that
I have always been
resting

shining

in God’s lap.

© 2011 Lisa A. McCrohan

 

It is in movement, sensual swirls, barefoot, under the moon that I soften and “return Home.”

Softening and surrendering. In movement. In writing a poem. This is how I return to the Divine and discover that I didn’t “go” anywhere. I’ve always been right here on God’s lap.

How do you “return” to the Divine within you and around you?

Regarding Life

Today, on my way to work, winding around the beautiful Cabin John parkway in DC, next to the Potomac River, at 6:30 in the morning (yes, folks, it IS early), I saw a huge turtle trying to cross the road. 

I let out a gasp. Then I quickly looked around to see if there was a place to pull off. Of course there isn’t on the parkway. My heart sank. I know what will probably happen.

I started to think about how most people I know regard life. It’s in our being, our cells, our DNA, our wiring to have compassion. Even the driver next to me who was weaving in and out of traffic and being “not so kind” on the road saw the turtle too, and for a moment, we exchanged a heart-full and regretful glance. A glance of “oh my goodness, can we do anything?” Instinctual within both of us was a desire to preserve life.

My husband has a way of tenderly and mindfully regarding life. He NOTICES things in nature. He pauses and regards life. Like this tiny caterpillar.

Brian holding a tiny caterpillar on a nature walk with our children

Over the years of living with and loving Brian, his practice of pausing and noticing and REGARDING life has soaked into my bones. This is a gift he has given us. And he is passing this on to our children.

When our children stop and pick up a worm, bug or ant, they regard it as a sacred moment. They know they are on sacred ground. Their bodies become calm, their breathing slows down, and their eyes…their eyes widen. I FEEL the energy of their hearts widening too. They know they are holding LIFE. Even in its tiniest form, they know to reverence life.

It doesn’t matter to me when my children begin to read, when they know their multiplication tables, how many A+’s they receive, if they hit the ball out of the park or if they get into an ivy league school.

If Brian and I can pass on to our children such a regard for life, and this under girds all they do, I will say that we’ve done an incredible job parenting.

Holy Saturday: the space between death and birth

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.

Sacred Softening

Sacred Softening

My body knows
has always known
my way back to God.

I dance
moving in slow sensual swirls
under the vastness of a moon-lit night

swaying until stillness fills every cell
and there are no hard edges
striving, panting, thinking

only breath
and heart.

Empty now,
I open into spaciousness

becoming the brilliant Night Jewel
boldly, gently shimmering her soft light.

And I discover that
I have always been
resting

shining

in God’s lap.

© 2011 Lisa A. McCrohan