Good morning, friends. It’s still dark in our little house in the woods, but light promises to rise every dawn, doesn’t it? Aren’t we lucky that the sun keeps rising, day after day, no matter what challenges our human world present, no matter if we can see it or not?
Today is Day 3 of my seventy-five day spiritual journey. The intent: to connect to the Heart, Love, God, Presence more deeply as 2020 turns toward memory and 2021 births new into our lives.
So what actually does this look like? you may be wondering. (And I think it might look different for each and every one of us unique fingerprints of Being.)
The truth is I don’t know what this will look like during the seventy-five day stretch. That remains to be revealed. I can tell you what it looked like yesterday.
I am turning focus again and again and again toward the Holy. Listening deeply to what the Heart knows. Listening to what wants to happen next. Not what my mind wants to happen next.
You know the difference between following the mind’s marching orders versus surrendering to the Holy?
My mind might want to spend the day playing jigsaw puzzles, checking the iPad, phone or computer for entertainment, losing minutes and hours struggling to figure things out, trying to solve world (or personal) problems, being lost in an ego world where the monkey brain attempts to control, fusses and reacts.
There’s nothing wrong with any of those activities, but I hear a calling from my Heart to focus on what really counts. What matters. Why I came to this blue and green and spinning planet.
Yesterday, every time I noticed that I was caught in a mental mumbo-jumbo, I gently remembered to turn toward the Heart. To pivot into Silence, body, prayer, affirmation, felt-sense or Presence. To invite God into the next moment. Not just me. C’mon, Holy, I remember you, hello.
Because this commitment is so new, it was easy to accomplish most of the day. When I noticed anything straining or fretting: Hello, Heart, I surrender this to you. When my shoulders ached from raking leaves too vigorously: Hello, Holy, help this body relax. (And relax it did! And soon raking became a gift to the Universe, effortless, soft, pull, breathe.)
Toward evening the sweet connection with Love seemed to disappear, but–for some grace-filled reason–no remorse or personal beating up happened. Instead I greeted, “Hello, human” and attempted to honor this dance of remembering and forgetting and remembering yet again.
Blessings on your day, holy humans!