Yoga Song: Recent Episodes
814 Grounded Pod
What does it mean to be wholehearted in these times, without spiritual bypass? How are you tending to the fire of rage? The heaviness of grief? The high alert state […]
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Widening Our Circumference of Caring/Loving/Belonging. We are told when flying in an airplane, in the event of a crisis, to ensure our own oxygen mask is on and functioning before […]
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The Celtic Wheel & Beltane Beltane, a cross quarter festival of fire situates directly opposite Samhain (otherwise known as Halloween), the Celtic New Year. The fires lit on Beltane are […]
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PAIN Pain. Searing. Hot. Throbbing. Dull Ache. Radiating, creeping, its tendrils traveling, encompassing more and more of the landscape of my physical body, taking over and planting roots. Pain sucks […]
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We Are Each Other’s Keepers Cruelty seems to be the point these days. I want to live in retreat mode, hiding out with a pile of books, a copious amount […]
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Let This Darkness Be a Bell Tower Written by Rainer Maria Rilke Translated by Joanna Macy Quiet friend who has come so far, feel how your breathing makes more space […]
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None of This Is Normal Little over a month into the second Trump Presidency and many of us wonder if the chaos creators will come up for air. The attempt […]
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What Sound Does Your Heart Make When It Breaks? Does your heart shatter like a pane of glass with a shudder, a splintering noise that cracks the air, the glass […]
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Yearning for Hope in Turbulent Times & Finding God Everywhere. January 2025. Deep Freeze. Endless Snow. Loss, deep and profound loss of a most Beloved Friend. New Administration. Executive […]
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Holding Truths Satya-Truth, the second of our ethics (yamas) in the yogic tradition defines truth as one’s words and actions being in relationship to fact. Edwin Bryant, in his commentary […]
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It’s My Birthday. Here’s What I Want! I want choruses of freedom songs to birth the emerging revolution. I want the stardust from millions of dying planets to wake up […]
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This Can’t be Real *Heads Up. This post discusses SA and Rape. My heart hurts, aches and feels shattered. Last night I went to bed feeling numb and in a […]
The post I am a Survivor of Sexual Assault-Post Election Reflection appeared first on YogaSong.
Landscape as Witness Living in the valley surrounded by the rolling hills of the Northern Appalachian mountains, intersected by two rivers, the Conemaugh and Stonycreek, to me, feels connected to […]
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What Does Your Heart Need Right Now? Tuning into my heart barely two weeks away from the election in the USA, my busy mind buzzes. Doom scrolling about Trump tangles […]
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Physical & Emotional Pain. Living the Practice. While I don’t identify with the wellness industrial complex, my life’s work involves working in spaces offering tools for wellness- in an unwell […]
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What does it mean to be a person who embodies peace? What does it mean to be a peacemaker? These are guiding questions for me living in a culture of […]
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Attune & Allow Transformative Poetry, Meditation & Conscious Conversation How are You Doing in These Times? Do you experience overwhelm often? Existential dread? Feel exhausted by the echo chambers? If […]
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In these times, I feel gratitude for: The earnest song of the first bird before dawn. The magic that music holds The possibilities that words create Curiosity that takes the […]
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The Great Turning & The Stories of These Times. My heart hurts many days. In my heart exists a grief so vast and wide for all of us. Other times, […]
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Yoga & The Third Way How do we show up when everything in the world is fragmented and burning? Why do we continue to respond to harm with inflicting greater […]
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We Are All Just Walking Each Other Home. Music for the Journey I enter into the dimly light room. The patient is curled up in the fetal position, his breath […]
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Everything is Broken. Everything is Beautiful. (Susan Cain) Sitting in the spaciousness of brokenness and beauty. Brokenness is everywhere. Gaza. Sudan Democratic Republic of the Congo Political Polarization. Our world […]
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Music is Medicine It is both so simple and yet so profound to use music as a support for the life/death transition. I play the Celtic harp and also use […]
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Living in Love Living in love Fear is so easily available to us. It is a primal response for survival. It can be helpful and inform and guide how we […]
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What is Your Medicine? What words are holding you right now? What songs are you walking with on the journey? How do you build capacity for the intensity of these […]
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Solar Eclipse. Spiritual Grit & Plot Twists Monday, April 8th, 2024 is the total solar eclipse. Where I live in SW Pa is at 95% of being able to view […]
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Coming Back to Life Authenticity is vulnerable. There is also great strength in showing up with our raw tender spaces that can only transform with our own and perhaps other […]
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Fragmentation happens in our nervous systems when we experience trauma. Integration is the work of healing, tending with care and repairing harm. I am in wonder and awe at the […]
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What is the point of contemplative practice? *Note that these all require participation. Contemplation is not passive. According to The Center for the Contemplative Mind in Society “Contemplative practices are […]
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Chant: Find Your Voice in Community! Chanting, repeating a phrase melodically and rhythmically, is a simple way to engage in music without joining a choir or group. Chanting is something […]
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Love Love is gravity, the primordial force of bonding that drives the ongoing creation of the universe. Our liberation is bound together by natural and spiritual truths. Today, on the […]
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Sankalpa- Connecting to the Deepest Desire of Your Heart My Realization of the Power of Intention Ten years ago I had the job I believed I would do for […]
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Morning in Kathmandu We rose before dawn. Roosters crowed and cows mooed as we walked in the brisk morning air through the green walled streets of Budhalinkantha. The […]
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Observing the breath, the muscles in the face, the brow, and the jaw, as well as the hands – are they clenched in fists or slightly open? There is so […]
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On a perfect late summer evening, spread out on the grass on all sides of the pavilion, people stood in clusters carefully opening the envelopes that held painted lady butterflies. Some of the butterflies lingered, tentatively moving their wings, others set out right away flying and swooping. One woman walked past me, tears streaming down her face that also held a smile. Children ran trying to chase butterflies, that once out of their envelope sometimes came close enough to enchant the children but remained out of the reach of small hands.
For thousands of years, the butterfly has been a symbol of transformation. The literal transformation from larvae/ caterpillar/chrysalis to a beautiful flying butterfly is something humans behold with awe and wonder. In grieving the loss of a loved one, this is a powerful reminder of the cycle of life/death/rebirth.
Earlier that evening, as I played my guitar and sang, the loved ones of patients that were in our hospice program filled the entire space of the large pavilion prior to releasing the butterflies. Many family members came and greeted me as I played. It is no small thing to be a part of someone’s transition and my heart softens, opens and expands as the memory of each patient and playing my harp for them lands.
Many people attended with family members, generations gathering to acknowledge loss. Some people came alone, one gentleman told me this was the first time he had done anything except errands since the loss of his wife of 63 years. Tears streamed down through the wrinkles on his weather-worn face and he tugged his ball cap as he thanked me gruffly for the music.
We are here to acknowledge loss as well as acknowledging mystery, like the transformation of the butterfly. We are all still here in this lifetime trying to make sense of it all, especially the hard, hard parts like someone we love deeply dying. We are here and they are gone. I believe we are drawn to rituals to bring something tangible, like a butterfly here , to our own participation in the rites and passages of being born, and in our living marking various milestones until we all eventually reach the sacred threshold of dying. Part of hospice work, in my case with music, is midwifery into what lies beyond death.
During Covid, many of the rituals we observe, whether it be birthdays, graduation, weddings and/or funerals were altered significantly or didn’t happen at all in the way we perhaps in our psyche, needed them to occur.
On January 19th, 2021, during some of the darkest days of the pandemic, some of us that organized efforts in our community to educate about the virus as well as address mental and emotional well being and other related topics, created a public acknowledgment of loss called Lights of Remembrance. We lit over 400 candles on the Stone Bridge in Johnstown, Pa, to commemorate the loss of over 400 citizens in Cambria County to Covid in less than a year. The bridge lit up was live streamed on Facebook. Many cars drove past the bridge. One family stopped, parked and came over to our group, all weeping. The only words they could utter were, “Thank you.” We all grieve in our own way and there can also be comfort in the collective experience of lament where we cry out from that deeply sorrowful place and find that we are not alone. And what is possible is this container here that is expansive enough to hold the enormity of our pain.
Oceans of grace meet oceans of grief.
The post The Power of Ritual appeared first on Yoga Song.
The Voice. Her voice. Raw. Unfiltered. What did you feel when you first heard this voice? I heard the ancestral cry of Irishwomen. I heard the sound of someone burning as brightly as the Sun and as equally familiar with the dark side of the Moon. How does one live with that level […]
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The roof of my mouth is sore. My nostrils and eyes both burn and there is a slight ache in my throat. The wildfires that continue to burn in Canada have impacted the air quality as far west as Colorado and Montana. Air quality in the Midwest and Mid Atlantic states is expected to be […]
The post Collective Wellness: Devotions for These Times appeared first on Yoga Song.
Yesterday in our Yoga Class Curator Pilgrimage & Puja Community Practice, founder and teacher Susanna Barkataki led us in an inquiry around devotion.
She referenced Yoga Sutra 1:39: Meditating on that which is elevating.
She gave us some inquiries for reflective journaling and the focus on meditating on what elevates is still unfolding within me.
I am finding in these times in order to be sustainable in healing justice work, it is necessary to saturate myself in that which elevates/opens and in doing so restores/nourishes this path of living well in an unwell world.
AND Meditation doesn’t have to be a formal seated practice. It can include the following and beyond!
I encourage you to make your own list.
So, here are 5 simple practices that serve for me, as meditations on that which elevates.
- Pay attention to aliveness. Do this by tapping into your own body, feeling your breath. Extend this beyond your person to listening to birdsong, observing the life teeming all around, trees, clusters of ants, the rabbits plotting to feast on the vegetables growing in our raised beds and beyond. Learn from other species. I have an ongoing experience of receiving stories about resilience from the giant white oak tree across the street from my house. Where do you notice this aliveness?
- Commit to the Art of Staying Inspired. Read inspirational texts that speak to the higher values of compassion, solidarity, and connection. This can be sacred texts, poetry and prose. This is part of my morning practice and right now I am revisiting Mark Nepo’s The Book of Soul. Create or listen to music that elevates your spirits. Meditate visually on a mandala, the yantras (geometric representations of the chakras) and any other visual imagery. What comes to mind here for you?
- Play. Play! Play for me often involves movement, hula hooping. DANCING EVERY DAY! I also make up songs about my dog and sing them loudly to him. It also helps that I have 2 grandsons who are 5 and 4 and we play in the world of imagination as swamp monsters, lions and cheetahs as well as dancing like robots, and scream singing while playing some of the numerous instruments in my household. What might playtime look like in your life? Can you identify some potential playmates?
- Creating Something. Maybe for some of us baking is our love language. It is my husband’s and I get to benefit! Mine is knitting. Fibers connect me to my ancestral roots. Both of my grandmothers worked with fibers, one with crocheting, the other with knitting and hooked rugs. There is something uplifting about taking the time to make something with your own hands. When I make things like the large, colorful cotton blanket I am knitting for my grand niece Addison, I weave prayers into the work of my hands. What do you like to create? Think of it as a meditation the next time you work with your hands.
- Call Someone Up. This is the opposite of call out culture. Reflect to someone in your life qualities of character that you see and admire. I tell my daughter in law, who is one of the best humans I know, that she embodies caring loving presence in how she parents and how she interacts in relationships. It appears effortless yet I know she brings great intention and awareness to these experiences. It feels so tender and uplifting to recognize the presence of our better angels in the people we love and why keep that to a silent observation all the time? I encourage you to try this!
What is on your list? Feel free to create your own!
The post 5 Practices to Open Your Heart appeared first on Yoga Song.
What is this thing called Presence?
What comes to mind when you think of Presence?
How do you know if you are experiencing Presence?
It is a word heard often from many wellness professionals.
We are often informed that “being present” is a desired state in this world of overstimulation.
Mark Nepo in The Book of Soul writes about Serbian performance artist Marina Abramovic’ sitting at MOMA (Museum of Modern Art) in New York for 632 hours in a chair with another chair facing her, inviting complete strangers to sit across from her as long as they desired, to look her in the eye. No conversation. Eight hours a day from March 14 through May 31st, 2010 she sat. The crowds grew daily. People were moved to tears by this interaction and the experience broke attendance records at MOMA.
The experience was entitled The Artist is Present. People came from all over the world to sit and engage with someone willing to be present. Those documenting this experience stated that they could feel that her heart had taken over her body, see an expansion to her already open eyes, and expression of her face that allowed and made space for the joy/pain/love/grief of complete strangers. This allowance of a recognizing of all the ways we are alive and feel that aliveness.
My son and his wife, with two boys, 5 and 4, recently welcomed two foster children into their home this week, a baby boy and an 18 month old girl. The little girl, my daughter in law told me, initially doesn’t make much eye contact and is slow to respond to interaction. I sat this precious little one on my knees, laying on my back, supporting her head on my thighs, her little feet on my belly. Softly, I starting singing, her name, syllables, simple repetitive melodies. Gradually, after about 10 minutes or so, her head turned more towards mine, her eyes met mine and a spark emerged from her eyes. She grinned a bit with drool on her chin and waved her tiny hand at me.
Presence/The awareness of aliveness.
The witness of the aliveness of another.
The exchange of awareness of aliveness.
Mark Nepo tells us that this awakening of mutual presence is the seed of our human kinship that can germinate anywhere.**
Anywhere.
So to me, presence is paying attention to aliveness and feeling that through all my tissues, into my bones and seeing that reflected all around me. Taking the time to feel the aliveness in the wind moving through the trees, newly abundant with GREEN, this sound of wind meeting leaves and branches that feels like a shoulder shimmy and looks like a wave on leaves rather than water.
Recognizing this felt sense in our exchange where we witness the aliveness of another and truly allow our aliveness to be seen through the fragility and fortitude that is part of life.
Presence to me, is a paying attention that feels both spacious and grounding in my body, my body this fluid container that has the capacity to hold as Abramovic’ held for many, and as this little Being, in her new home, found in herself and recognized in me, the fullness of our humanity.
Blessed Be.
Blessed Be.
Blessed Be.
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Dolores Whelan, teacher of Celtic spiritual and wisdom traditions guides explorations of how ancient wisdom can form and shape values in which a new society can be formed. Joanna Macy, eco-Buddhist and source teacher for the Great Turning applies this as well to her work. Joanna is one of my teachers and these teachings, across Cosmologies resonate so deeply with me.
Here we are on this turning of the Celtic Wheel, with the planet in peril, and the death culture of mass weaponry filling my news feed with mass shootings in the US occurring weekly.
I vacillate between existential dread, rage, anger and deep enormous grief that feels all consuming.
It takes effort to orient myself as Joanna guides constantly without bypass to remember that to work with our pain for the world, we need to also open our eyes to the enormous wonder of life. That what will fuel and sustain us to move into mutuality and reciprocity is a deep and abiding love for this planet and the diversity of species. To see ourselves as intricately interwoven into the web of life is necessary to shift our own world view away from the status quo.
Honoring the Earth calendar, the Solstice, the Equinox, the cross quarter festivals of the Celtic Wheel help anchor me in this direction.
The last cross quarter festival, Imbolc, witnessed the emergence of snowdrops in my yard. These tiny, delicate flowers that burst through the frozen ground and the layers of leaves win my heart every year. What resilience and strength must these tender blossoms have as their very essence!
Today, on Beltaine, a brief flurry of snow appeared as I walked my dog, me all bundled up, past the dandelions whose audacious yellow popped in response to the gray steel like skies.
I am reminded as I walk, that lament is also an ancient practice of moving from the isolation of grief to finding community, solidarity and the ongoing spiral of healing.
I arrive back home and come to my guitar to work with this enormous bundle of feeling all the feels. Songs emerge from my tears. I come to standing and start to move my body. I feel not only the weight of gravity, but the aliveness that is multi-directional.
Honoring this season of Beltaine, this merging of masculine and feminine energies, this moving outward, to community, exploring passion and power, I renew a commitment to tending to the work of offering my gifts and talents to the world in ways that make sense for me and live into Beloved Community mindset.
Please come with your beautiful offerings.
Enjoy this beautiful piece of art from Dana Driscoll from Druid’s Garden
Please support artists like Dana who are leading us into the permaculture, integrated, reciprocal way of life.
The post Beltaine. Passion, Power & The Celtic Wheel appeared first on Yoga Song.
Cancel culture cloaked in self righteousness is easy to access.
It is this reactive, defensive mode that is readily available to most of us (including me for full transparency).
Fortunately, yoga philosophy gives us a framework to navigate, regulate and show up grounded, resolute, open minded, open hearted and willing to learn and grow.
Ahimsa-this foundational piece is not only the absence of violence or conflict. It is not rainbows and unicorns (although I like both of these immensely!). It is actively rooting out causes of harm. it is repairing the breach. It is restoration and reconciliation.
Satya-truthfulness, healthy self-expression. This is also speaking Truth to Power and deep, embodied listening.
If this sounds difficult, it is. It is a practice. One that we come to over and over again.
Many yoga and wellness practitioners focus this on the individual practitioner and often in the context of the practice itself. Ahimsa and Satya here is self care on the mat, being true to your practice and experience. While this is helpful, in our culture, it can also lend into navel gazing and hyper focus on the individual.
Many yoga and wellness practitioners also avoid any mention of inequity, injustice, racism, homophobia, ableism and anything that can cause discomfort.
I am not that person.
Growing up, it was pointed out as impolite to talk about politics, religion or anything divisive in company.
I wholeheartedly disagree with this because now all we know how to do is scream into the echo chambers and at this point, it is so predictable that many choose to avoid these topics altogether, especially folx who work in the wellness industries and don’t wish to offend anyone.
Being able to dialogue around these areas in our discomfort-with a regulated nervous system (again, a practice) can generate understanding and space, especially for those whose very existence is challenged by the establishment, and can be generative.
We need the medicine of fierce tenderness everywhere. In our wellness spaces for sure so we can teach regulation rather than a whitewashed, water down version of mindfulness meant to internalize strong feelings instead of being with them in community and learning to co regulate.
So, what does it feel like to you to read these words? What do you notice in your body? Is there a pull, an affirmation? A Resistance?
This is something to practice in community, both on and off the mat.
To me, becoming established in truth is a process.
I am taking a deep dive into yoga philosophy as a life long student in a year long immersion with Susanna Barkataki and Yoga Class Curator I am also learning from Kazu Haga and Healing Resistance: A Radically Different Response to Harm
Times are challenging with violence erupting in our communities, in our country and in the world. How do we live in truth, in integrity?
Let’s explore this together. Join me this month either in person or online.
IN PERSON! Register here for Monday, April 17th from 6:00-8:00 PM
ONLINE EVENT: Register here for April 25th from 6:00-8:00 PM
The post Ahimsa & Satya. Fierce Tenderness appeared first on Yoga Song.
Jesus wept.
This is the shortest verse in the Bible. John 11, verse 35.
This is the story where Jesus is grieving due to the death of his friend Lazarus, already laid in the tomb having been prepared and wrapped for burial.
Jesus wept. Jesus had bodily functions such as blood, sweat and tears. He grieved even though he later raised Lazarus from the dead, an action causing an uproar in part that led to his execution. It is the week before Passover where Jews make a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Jerusalem, occupied by Rome and also a volatile climate of competing sects and philosophies
Rain.
Constant. Pouring. Softening.
Pausing. Resuming.
The day begins with the soft pattering of rain on the rooftop right outside my window. Dawn emerges gradually as gray light matches the shade of the state road in front of my house. The sound of tires slicing through the rain is intermittent at first and as the morning breaks, becomes as constant as the rain.
In a city, 10 hours from where I live in Johnstown, Pa, Nashville, Tennessee, otherwise known as “Music City, USA”, and also The Buckle on the Bible Belt, yet another school shooting in the USA takes place.
3 children and 3 adults are murdered.
Evelyn Dieckhaus, 9, a daughter, a third grader.
Mike Hill, 61, a custodian, father to seven children and grandfather to fourteen.
William Kinney, 9, a son, a third grader
Katherine Koonce, 60, head of Covenant School
Cynthia Peak, substitute teacher, mother of three.
It continues to rain all week. It is the week before Holy Week.
Two days later, schools, and universities, both public and private throughout the state of Pennsylvania go on lockdown due to threats of school shootings and bombs, later this is determined to be a hoax. This included the pre-school class of my grandson and the university where my daughter is in graduate school.
The rain continues. Waking up Thursday morning to another gray day of rain, the enormity of how we continue to exist in the cycles of violence shreds my nervous system. I cannot begin to imagine having a conversation with my five year old grandson about school shootings and lock down drills.
Every week, he shows me the letters he is learning to write. There is something so tender about early writing, the different sizes of the letters and the way they occupy space with some letters giant and others not so much. My heart cannot contain a world where Anthony learns letters and also huddles in a corner in a preschool room with all the brightness and excitement of learning a dim afterthought to surviving preschool.
Sunday, Palm Sunday, the sun shines, seemingly oblivious to the past week of rain, the weariness, the tornados in Mississippi, the grief and shock lingering in many places and spaces.
Walking my dog, both of us eager to get out after many days of rain, in a park by my house, I found the park full of people and dogs. Gravel crunches beneath my shoes as I walk forward. There is hazard tape blocking part of the trail where the sheer fury of the wind cracked open thick branches of a maple tree. The sun, ever hopeful, accentuating the blueness of the sky draws out the beginnings of buds on the trees.
Across the park there is a gathering of families, possibly a church group around a cluster of picnic tables. Someone is dressed as the Easter Bunny and there are children running and laughing. I cannot see details but I am guessing there is a hunt for bright plastic Easter eggs perhaps filled with candy or other desired items.
Holy Week. A week marked with betrayal, violence, grief and denial.
Are we stuck here or will we find our way back to life?
April 4th, 55 years ago, Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr was assassinated in Memphis Tennessee. The Poor People’s Campaign and institutionalizing nonviolence were priorities he was bringing his organizing around before his untimely death.
Rev. Dr. King’s widow Coretta Scott King established The King Center, a center where people and organizations can invite transformation of unjust systems through cultivating a Beloved Community mindset.
This mindset includes a deep and principled commitment to loving through hard spaces.
Reading these words, exploring this mindset, I can feel deep into my gut, this is what moving from a culture of death to one of life resembles.
Jesus constantly challenged the dominant culture and the competing factions for power, not by establishing a new order that was reinforced by kings and principalities but by blessing and centering the poor, children, women, and other outliers, and by using images from farming and women’s work in his teachings. This was a clear threat to the established order. Jesus also lived the Way of Peace. His responses to violence were creative and affirming of life.
His Kingdom was Upside Down.
Holy Week, the yellow forsythia stands out in contrast to the gray skies. Here we are straddling the spiral of time in the valley of the shadow of death and cycles of violence and upheaval. Rooting and grounding into Beloved Community mindset in the face of evil invites us to sit at the table with those who would persecute us to find our cups overflowing with goodness and mercy.
Rejecting the culture of death is not passive. It is not merely removing guns, it is replacing the culture of mass weaponry with relationship building that molds grit and grace to be with people in hard spaces and places, transforming fear into love.
Beloved Community mindset is also unpacking the violence of systems, powers and principalities to live into a world where all Beings have access to resources to thrive, can freely and safely navigate in their bodies and be able to live in peace.
This is so Hard.
This takes great courage and practice.
This is also how Love Wins.
This is the Holy Work beyond Holy Week.
The post Holy Week 2023 appeared first on Yoga Song.
In this time of folx saying whatever they want, does truth matter?
is truth a matter of perspective?
Is there such a thing as broader, universal truths?
What is the relationship between truth and integrity, truth and courage?
How do we speak truth to injustice without screaming into the void and creating more chaos?
How can I speak truth in a way that opens hearts and minds, (including my own) rather than from the edge of the cliff of self-righteousness?
Silence can speak volumes so when is my silence harmful and when is it helpful?
These are all questions I ponder and I want to do this with other folxs.
Satya. Truth. In the Yogic tradition, it is one of the yamas, one of five ethical practices that make up the first of the eight limbed practice of Yoga in the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali.
Satya Sutra2.36 सत्यप्रतिष्ठायां क्रियाफलाश्रयत्वम् ॥ २.३६ ॥
Yoga Sutra 2.36: satya-pratiṣthāyāṁ kriyā-phala-āśrayatvam
“When one is established in truthfulness, actions begin to bear fruit.”
Sw. Satchidananda
सत्य Satya means truth or truthfulness.
To me, becoming established in truth is a process. It is often intertwined with ahimsa, the first yama, often translated as non-violence. My growing understanding of ahimsa is that it is more than non-injury but actively looking to remove the causes of harm.
I am taking a deep dive into yoga philosophy as a life long student in a year long immersion with Susanna Barkataki and Yoga Class Curator I am also learning from Kazu Haga and Healing Resistance: A Radically Different Response to Harm
Times are challenging with violence erupting in our communities, in our country and in the world. How do we live in truth, in integrity?
Let’s explore this together. Join me this month either in person or online.
Check out my website and social media for more details
The post Truth. Honesty. The Current State of Affairs. appeared first on Yoga Song.
6:50 AM. The morning light is slowly brightening through the orange curtains into my yoga space, formerly my home studio. Prior to this slow turning toward the sun, in the quiet of dark, a lone bird chirps on a branch. The sound opens a tender space in my heart.
Is it vulnerable and courageous to be this lone bird? It is not a lone bird for very long. The thin lightening of the sky is joined by birds all over the tree lined streets of my neighborhood. Traffic noises start to pick up. Kids shuffle their feet looking down as they head to school perhaps shaking off the cobwebs from dreams.
In the midst of the grief and helplessness in the face of climate change and the extreme weather patterns, police brutality, racism, the intense polarization of these times and the absurd theater of politics, this tender birdsong takes hold of my heart. This taking hold creates an expansion of my Being that has space for grief and wonder, heartbreak and holiness.
This season is also in Christianity, the time of Lent, a time of humble reflection. I think of the early Desert Mothers who lived a day to day existence in relationship with longing/pain/joy/. I contemplate how to be a Desert Mother as a householder as we say in the yogic tradition. How to live in this world and not be of this world. To me, this is a process, not an outcome but a daily turning towards the grief and the wonder. The heartbreak and the Holy. Allowing, Noticing. Feeling. Responding. Finding the oceans of grace that exist in that daily turning, like the earth towards the sun. Again and again.
The post Longing & Light appeared first on Yoga Song.
The curious mind is a healthy mind.
Merging inquiry without judgement is akin to a childlike state of wonder and awe.
Certainty to me lacks a sense of adventure. It feels like a closed door, an enclosed space, a box without wrappings and signifies a lack of possibility, of emergence.
Inviting curiosity is spacious and also grounded.
Laying on my yoga mat, I am curious about the relationship between the parts of my body, the back of my head, shoulder girdle, elbows, fingertips, pelvic girdle, (Knees bent), the toes, ball mounds and heels touching the solid earth and the places of space between my body and the earth; the cervical spine (neck), the lumbar spine (lower back), backs of my legs, palms of my hands and arches of my feet. My inquiry seeks awareness of the elegant architecture of my being and how physical contact and space responds to the oscillation of my inhalation and exhalation in this relationship between space, fluidity and stability.
There is much to be curious about.
What does it mean to be here now? To exist in these times?
What does it mean to fully embrace the tenderness of life right now?
To lean into the unknown?
To bring forth what lies deep within you as an offering to The Living System of Gaia?
*Pay Attention!*
To Babies/Children/The Elders/Trees/Other Species/Connection/The Fascial Network-your tissues-these internal koshas that contain all the layers of your Being, the stardust, the minerals, the microbes, the fluid, the resonant space of your Being/Belonging to the Cosmos.
Be Curious and Kind Dear Ones!
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In my dreams last night, a golden eagle flew overhead swooping down around me and eventually landed on my arm, its large talons wrapped securely around my forearm. In waking life, I likely would have shrieked and attempted to ward off a large bird with razor sharp talons diving from the sky towards me, but in my dream, I calmly held out my arm as a perch for this majestic bird.
We beheld each other, our gazes locked and unblinking and I felt myself absorbing the strength of this mighty bird. The golden eyes observed me from the side of its head. The entire being of this golden bird with shades of brown I had not known existed that showed up in the layers of feathers, this being emitted pure presence and embodied intelligence. There was a moment where I experienced no separation between the eagle and myself. The energy of the exchange of our respective gazes forged this magical union.
A friend that happened to be with me in my dream thought the bird was ill because it wanted to be near me. The bird allowed us to look into its beak and check its pulse (I know, dream life is weird).
I felt it was a happy accident this amazing species of bird landed on my arm and several times I raised my arm up as it grew heavy and felt perhaps the bird needed flight. The talons, sharp and scaly, adjusted around my forearm and remained steadfast for awhile until, ruffling its feathers, with a piercing cry that landed in my heart as a longing, a cry that contained ecstasy and pain, pressed down to rise up soaring into the sky.
Waking up, hours later, I find the presence of the golden eagle from my dream still with me, a gift of strength and power within.
Here in this threshold time between the end of 2022 and the emergence of 2023, I resist the urge to analyze this dream. Instead, I allow the mystery of this transmission of strength, freedom, liberation and resilience to land in my body and inform my waking life in this liminal space.
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Here we are, right before what we call, “The Holidays.”
“It is a strange and wonderful fact to be here, walking around in a body, to have a whole world within you and a world at your fingertips outside you. It is an immense privilege, and it is incredible that humans manage to forget the miracle of being here. Irish poet John O’ Donohue (quoting Rilke in the bold).
Being here.
Aliveness.
This can also remind us of loss.
Who isn’t at the holiday gathering.
Our broken and imperfect relationships
It is a lot.
Over the Thanksgiving holiday, driving and talking to my 22 year old daughter about daily life, her graduate studies, life in a larger city, it hits me that she is trying to figure out the trajectory of her life during this time of political upheaval, during a pandemic time that is not quite over as well as manage her own mental and physical health.
Of course, this is no newsflash but for an unknown reason, this lands and becomes a sharp sensation in my body, a painful opening of insight.
It is a lot.
Sitting with the simple enormity of being here and the overwhelm of the macro, the mezzo and the micro situations, challenges reminding us that we live in a broken, unwell world is a lot of the big feels.
To me, it is also a reminder that I can cultivate wellness in an unwell world and that looks different than what the world values and holds important and I am finding more and more folxs who feel this way also.
Folxs who value being relational rather than transactional. Folxs who practice self and community care, who value authenticity, who deeply listen. These are my peeps.
Whether you follow the teachings of Jesus or not, this time of year can be a reminder that a brown baby, born to a poor Jewish family, for a time a refugee, who dined and associated with outcasts and also napped, ate lots of snacks and spoke hard truths with compassion and centered human dignity, need and relationship over law, order and status quo, this Being changed the world.
So whatever you believe, however you celebrate Christmas, Hanukkah, Solstice, Kwanzaa or any other ways we as humans gather with candlelight, in humble appreciation for our lives, for this chaotic, painful, joy filled experience on EarthSchool. May the peace that defies understanding dwell within you, root, guide, inform you and extend from you to all Beings
So Be It.
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Here we are at the threshold of holiday season. Earlier this week, on the eve of Transgender Day of Remembrance, a day acknowledging the violence against and murder of Transgender individuals, a mass shooting took place in Colorado Springs at Q Club, a gay bar. On the threshold of the holiday season, we have yet […]
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Yearning/Longing is part of the human existence. We witness longing in the Judeo-Christian sacred texts in The Song of Songs and The Psalms, the poetry of Rumi, Hafiz, Kabir, Mary Oliver, the phrasing of Billie Holiday’s intimate relationship between melody and word, the music of Kendrick Lamar, and the sound of the modes, Aeolian and […]
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The rolling hills of Northern Appalachia reached saturation of green well over a month ago, and the Tulip Poplar trees now show hints of various shades of yellow on their leaves. Sweet corn stands from local farms populate parking lots. Nights and mornings are cooler in temperature. The shasta daisies, bee balm and echinacea flowers […]
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*TRIGGER WARNING. Mention of rape and suicidal ideation.*** Exhaustion. Grief. Anger. I don’t allow these to isolate or separate me from my own humanity or my body, or other Beings and the awareness of being Nature. This is my practice of aliveness, allowing, breathing, sensing, feeling, relating and finding who/what/where amplifies resonance in my body, […]
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Random Thoughts and Ramblings: I love that Gen Z is falling in love with Kate Bush. I could care less about Johnny Depp and Amber Heard. My early summer perennial flowers are starting to bloom and it is 96 degrees mid June. They look disgusted. And wilted before they even flowered. Stop calling human rights […]
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I walk in the dark night, staying next to buildings lest I cast a shadow. Seeking to blend my footsteps into the rhythm of the subtle night sounds, traffic, other people walking on ahead of me and behind me perhaps also seeking anonymity, I walk carefully, heading towards the unknown. My clothes are filthy. I […]
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This past Saturday, hosting a petition signing for a friend to get on the Democratic ballot for State Rep, our tea kettle remained on the whole day while folks gathered round the table for really good conversation and many laughs. Many people from various parts of the planet have gathered in our kitchen which has […]
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“What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life? The world would split open.” ― Muriel Rukeyser The International Women’s Day (March 8) celebrates the achievements of women in social, economic, cultural, and political fields. As well as marking the day, Women’s Equality Action Day calls for accelerating the advancement […]
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Greed can and may destroy this planet. It is the greatest weapon of mass destruction humans employ. It devastates the Earth and destroys the life of the soul. Like many people across our planet, my heart hurts when war machines rumble, tyrants revel in domination and extraction, intimidation and murder in Yemen, Syria, Ethiopia, and […]
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. January 26th. Night descends around 5:30 pm. I sit at my desk wrapped in wool from head to toe. I wrap my hands around my large tea mug to keep them warm. Outside my window, the brightness of the snow contrasts with the darkening skies and the streetlights throw shadows across the frozen mounds […]
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A friend posted this a few days back and it captured perfectly my sense of myself and the current state of affairs in January 2022 two years fully into the pandemic with no clear end in sight. ******* January in Southwest Pa. the nights are dark and long, the days cold and gray. The […]
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Wholehearted Instructions for The New Year Wrap yourself in fierce tenderness. Perhaps a hand-knit shawl, a sweet song, a hug, a dog’s face sniffing and licking your tears, or the trusting hand of a small child. Nourish yourself with teas, soups, brisk outdoor walks, and lengthy meditations. Write yourself a letter from a beloved ancestor, […]
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WHEN THE HOLY THAWS A woman’s body, like the earth, has seasons; when the mountain stream flows, when the holy thaws,when I am most fragile and in need, it was then, it seemed, God came closest. God, like a medic on a field, is tending our souls. Our horns get locked with desires, but […]
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What I am Learning These Days It is okay not to be okay. These are rough times. The uncertainty present moving forward in the seemingly never ending season of Covid, the spread of misinformation, the deep need for racial healing, divisions in the country, climate change and more. This is a whole lot on the […]
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The sun warm, the breeze cool, I prepare the yard in our city neighborhood for winter. I plant tulip bulbs that have multiplied from an Easter plant alongside the walkway leading up to our front porch. Alongside this walk, the Shasta daisies are dried and stalky. The hostas wilted, appear weary and sprawl towards the […]
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I enjoy lists.
Not merely for tasks, but also to remind myself to prioritize relationships and wellness.
Discovering Bullet Journaling in 2018 led me into a whole different realm of managing my self directed life with a mindfulness based approach that incorporates goal setting with self reflection and journaling.
https://bulletjournal.com/
I strive to create lists in the same manner as I curate playlists on Spotify (follow me. I have literally hundreds of playlists!), marrying whimsy and practicality, centering relationships, and exploring my edges, deepening and widening my experience of living this life.
Speaking life into my life.
Autumn is upon us. The days are a bit warmer than is typical, though the days continue to shorten. The changing colors of the leaves from the deep green of summer to browns, oranges, deep reds and some dark purples, (and lastly at the end of the fall, bright yellow), emerge in small patches on the slopes and curves of the Northern Appalachian hillsides.
Also, this autumn, we are 20 months into this pandemic.
COVID numbers still rise.
Collective exhaustion reigns.
Cognitive dissonance and delusion pocket the landscape of changing foliage in flags and yard signs stubbornly adhering to a lie.
I maintain a shred of curiosity here and actively work not to fall down the spiral of despair or rage.
This list is part of my practice of engaging with Active Hope.
Winter here can be rough even without a pandemic, political polarization and pettiness.
My list for Autumn (Not in any particular order):
- Spend at least thirty minutes doing something uplifting in the morning before checking social media and/or news.
- Spending time with Family/Family/Family!
- Drum circles/dance parties/scream sing songs/playing dinosaur/monster/hide and seek as much as possible with my grandsons.
- Committing to time outside in nature at least five times a week for thirty minutes, longer if the schedule allows.
- Hike with husband.
- Hike with friends.
- Vote in November.
- Plan my reading list for Winter. (My winter choices tend towards Celtic Spirituality/Mythology, anything by the Turkish author Orhan Pamuk, Clarissa Pinkola Estes and Anne Lamott, Memoirs and Appalachian writers-with the exception of The Hillbilly Elegy guy who I consider an arrogant asshat.)
- Maintain my daily personal Yoga and Meditation practice.
- Knit cute Christmas hats for my adorable grandsons.
- Acquire (for free or a really good bargain) a new (can be second-hand) set of cross country skis.
- Create daily Rituals of Joy from an assortment of lovely teas in the giant mug that wraps around my hands perfectly on a cold day, crafted by Dan Eash, long time friend and potter.
- Love on People! On outdoor hikes! In Zoom Rooms! Family/friends/Hospice patients/yoga students, community partnerships and my beloved community in Johnstown, Pa.
- Get my Fucking Pfizer Booster shot!
- Write every damn day, even if it is only a sentence or revision.
- Wear really lovely, comfortable socks.
- Plant tulip bulbs.
- Smash the Patriarchy
- Make Music/Compose with Voice/Guitar/Harp/Shruti/Tone Drum/Anything that produces sound
- Porch sit on warm days and swing while gazing on the giant white oak tree across the street.
- Gather leaves and acorns from the oak tree and put them in little corners throughout my house to bring the qualities of truth, courage and wisdom and the presence of mighty strength and endurance into my living space.
- Repeat as necessary.
This type of list is not for check off the box tasks. To me, this type of list reminds me to focus my attention, energy and time on what nourishes/grounds and settles my nervous system and feeds my soul.
So, think about making your list and sharing your list!
Actively seek Individual and Collective Wellness/Healing Dearest Ones!
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Happy Fall Equinox!
Like many folks in the Northern Hemisphere, I celebrate the turning of the Celtic Wheel.
These past seasons of Covid, with political polarization and now the Delta variant that brings with it, rising Covid numbers and ongoing uncertainty, I am drawn towards seeking stability, grounding and connection.
For over eighteen months, I have participated in the turning of the Wheel with The Hedge School, a virtual home school rooted in Ireland that invites people around the world on a collective learning experience to find our shared humanity through reclaiming old wisdom in emergent ways.
I find that by paying attention to the subtle and complex energies that accompany the turning of the wheel, I can be in alignment with whatever is showing up in each and every moment.
Currently, in our yard, the Shasta daisies and coneflowers have withered to brown stalks while the zinnias boldly continue to present their round magenta and orange blooms towards the sun. Our sunflower tree at the corner of a busy urban intersection is surrounded by wildflowers from scattered seeds barely past the height of their bloom. Blossoms large and small of white, yellow, purple, and orange lean on long, late summer stems towards the grass.
In our yard in Moxham a city neighborhood, we have blooms from brave little snowdrops that burst through frozen ground to an early spring array of daffodils, hyacinths and tulips that usher in Irises of white, coral and purple, as well as the serene, vibrant purple Japanese Irises. These blooms eventually yield to bright yellow evening of primrose blossom and an unknown vibrant purple flower all through the yard. Next up comes the utterly simple beauty of daisies, the funky deep magenta strands of bee balm, elegant tiger lilies, confident day lilies and two giant butterfly bushes that remain in bloom with the aforementioned cone flowers and Shasta daisies inviting buzzing bees and many butterflies into our outdoor dwelling place.
The Fall Equinox finds us still harvesting late summer and early fall fruits of our labor in our urban homesteading adventure with ten raised beds. Green tomatoes slowly ripen on the vine. Kale, Swiss chard. eggplant and varieties of peppers, due to a long, warm summer are still promising fruit. Green Onions, acorn, Hubbard and Butternut squash start to up their garden game with deepening their color and growing in length and circumference.
We don’t buy produce except for locally grown fruit from May to October. The equinox is a time in our garden where most things come to a completion and a pause. We turn over beds, blanch and freeze kale and chard, filling the freezer, pickle the last of the beets with eggs and make sauce with what is left of the tomatoes.
This time of the year, the time after Labor Day and before the first frost often seems like the beginning of the year to me. School begins and the rhythm of traffic, people’s schedules and the types of social engagements shift and change.
It feels to me like a time of both preparation for the winter and a completion of the time of harvest.
The leaves of the trees on the rolling Appalachian mountains have entered the fullness of this season. Hints of brown and splashes of color peer out from hillsides. Nature constantly demonstrates to us the beauty of release in a vibrant display that eventually ends in starkness.
We are held now, during the Equinox in the pause before release. The Equinox is like the pause at the top of the inhale where there is a sense of fullness that eventually, on the exhale is released to empty. This is a time of balancing light/dark, harvest/preparation, allowing/releasing.
In the Hedge School that I mentioned above, this paying deep attention to the natural world and integrating the complex and subtle energies that are the gifts of the various turns and stops on the Wheel is the recovering of ancient wisdom that allow us to live in harmony and balance with the natural world. When I see myself as part of the natural world, as part of the diversity of species living amongst other species on this living, breathing organism we call Earth, I access a sense of wholeness and connection that is outside the systems and values of our culture that seeks to dominate and exploit the natural world.
In this turning, this season of the Wheel, I know I need to be clear about accessing the wellspring of joy that is my birthright and that of all Beings. I know this. I need to be well in an unwell world.
I am blessed to have great teachers, Joanna Macy and The Work That Reconnects, among many, that offer daily practices to reorient and shift our awareness to being relational rather than transactional in all things. Paying attention to the natural world, even in urban settings, is the best and easiest access to start practice. I often connect to the expansion and contraction in my breath as something shared with even single celled organisms in the pulse of life itself. So, on this Autumn Equinox evening, as a soft, gentle rain soaks the trees, the Earth, the concrete, the remaining plants and flowers, I exhale, trusting in the Divine Order of Gaia.
May I remain present enough in this part of the Great Turning, to know what to breathe life into, what to release and let go and what to sit with, simmer and digest.
I leave you with the words of Mary Oliver, who always knows what to say by paying deep attention to the natural world.
Rachel Allen (she/her/hers) Merging Music, Yoga and Community Trauma Informed Wellness Services www.yogasong.net
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Brilliant fall mornings hold excitement and possibility in the air.
The newness of the school year combined with the shift in schedules reorient us in a different direction after the slower pace of summer.
Twenty years ago, the crew and passengers of Flights 11. 77, 175 and Flight 93 likely had some version of this orientation as this day began with clear blue skies, and crisp cool air with enough warmth from the sun to make it enjoyable to be outdoors.
Twenty years ago today, my son Johnny caught the bus to kinder garden that bright Tuesday morning so Riley, my eighteen month old daughter and I had the day to ourselves. Sunlight filled our living room, we listened to Mozart and played with some toys that had different shapes that you insert into a ball. I remember so clearly her laugh and my feeling of utter contentment in the moment.
The phone rang. My friend Janice, knowing I would not have the television on asked me to turn on the news right away.
The first plane had hit one of the towers.
It was initially for one moment considered an aviation mistake.
The second plane hit.
At this point many cameras captured this and the moments that happened next. They are forever seared into my memory.
Chaos ensued.
The next thing I heard reports that a plane heading for the Pentagon had crashed with lesser fatalities and damage but catastrophic none the less.
I couldn’t look away.
America was under siege.
Phone calls were made to inquire about loved ones, cousins, friends in Manhattan and in Washington DC. I know folks that survived being in the towers. I know folks that ran crying through the streets of NYC. Thankfully, everyone I knew made it out alive. Not so for many others.
Before I knew it, there were reports of a fourth plane heading HERE. Actually, fairly close to here in Somerset, Pa. about 25 miles south.
I called my son’s school frantic. They asked parents to stay in place and to not panic. They were trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy and assured me that teachers were teaching and holding class as usual. My son later told me that the television was on all day and his teacher was on the phone. I cannot blame her.
My husband called from State College. We wept together on the phone. He heard the news about the plane heading close.
Later, my whole family now at home, continued to check in with loved ones across the country, our hearts ached, we wept, we grieved, our lives forever changed, and the best and worst of us, across the U.S.A. emerged. There were countless tales of sacrifice, and heroism as well as an increase in Islamophobia and the murder of Sikh people across the nation, mistaken as Muslims by severely misguided people thinking these horrific acts to be executed in the name of patriotism.
By this time, we had heard the famous story of heroics where the passengers of Flight 93 commandeered the plane from the terrorists to land in a field, sacrificing their own lives so others could live.
This story, from our neighboring county, captured the heart of this country and the tiny community of Shanksville, Pa became caretakers and part of the support team of the families of those lives lost from Flight 93.
A makeshift Memorial went up almost immediately after the site was cleared of debris and anything that could be identified as human remains.
The Memorial now stands out from the rolling hills of Northern Appalachia and receives close to 50,000 visitors a year.
Twenty years later, in the midst of a never ending pandemic, grief and lament seem present and necessary.
The best and worst of us continue to emerge.
Personally, I contemplate in my heart what it means to be in these spaces of collective grief from 9/11/ to Covid 19 with now more than 600,000 lives lost in this pandemic.
All of these lives, people that are grandparents/parents/spouses/partners/siblings/children/family/beloved friends. It is a lot. I know personally many deaths from Covid.
It is a lot.
The shape of grief in our lives, in our hearts, it can open our hearts/minds/spirits towards one another and can also shut us down in bitterness and anger.
Fluctuating between various stages of all of this is often exhausting, and challenging.
So, I will offer a small blessing for us.
Dear Ones,
May we ride the waves of grief, anchored in awareness that we and our loved ones, whom we mourn the loss of hopes and dreams, are all held together in a love beyond measure.
May we find comfort and release in the wailing of our lament.
May we find each other and see that we are never alone in seeking comfort and solace in loss.
May we always remember what we hold dear to our hearts about our beloved ones.
May we See No Stranger and honor that of ourselves we do not yet recognize in each other (Valarie Kaur/Revolutionary Love Project).
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Summer
Summer. The Joys/dreams/memories and longings of summer.
It seems the pace of life slows down, perhaps this allows us to savor both sunrise and sunset.
At sunrise, the morning birdsong and at sunset, the hum of insects serenade us in a Symphony of the Species that occasionally, depending on location, can include bullfrogs, cicadas, woodpeckers and barking dogs.
I walk my little Japanese Chin dog in a local park and around my block often. On a part of our block, numerous small dogs, always outside in summer, reside in nearby homes. As Little Man, my dog, and I walk here, the cacophony of tiny yapping dogs intent on asserting their presence rises to a pitch and slowly subsides. Little Man contributes his high pitched yips while enthusiastically dancing/prancing on his back legs, to the small pup chorale and is the last to drop off with some sniffing and grumbling to finally resume his four legged walk.
In our neighborhood, kids and adults ride bikes, and basketball courts are full. Watching from my front porch swing, there is a constant parade of people. Moms with babies in strollers and toddlers who sometimes sing and sometimes cry as they walk, teens sauntering in clumps, runners equipped with fit bits and sweat bands, the young guy (without a bicycle helmet) who rides up and down the street and does stunts on his bike, middle aged women walking in pairs, and always, my neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Tran who stop to engage in the usual pleasantries around gardening and neighborhood happenings..
Around our house and in the backyard, flowers display their finery, from the deep yellow of the black eyed susans to the bright magenta explosion of bee balm. The flower beds in our home begin to bloom with hardy snowdrops in March, followed by irises, primrose, Japanese irises, tiger lilies, some purple flower I don’t know, daisies and ending the season of summer with the black eyed susans, and bee balm are my lovely cone flowers. Also in our urban homestead are textured grasses, random wildflowers, two large butterfly bushes, tons of hostas and ten large raised beds for vegetables that produce fruit from May until close to Thanksgiving.
Our yard in the summer is abundant, rich and a labor of love to maintain.
Gathering with friends, attending concerts and festivals, cook outs, hiking, kayaking and camping are at the top of the summer activity list as well as porch sitting on swings, watching the leaves on the giant white oak across the street dance against the changing sky.
These are the typical scenes of summer in my yard, my neighborhood and community.
Yet this second summer of Covid, masks are on the faces of people as they get on and off the bus stop down the street. There is a sense of exhaustion in the eyes of the mothers with the babies and toddlers, a resignation in the gaze of the middle aged folks although the masked clumps of teens seem to be business as usual. My neighbors who normally exchange pleasantries, now share concerns. The bike stunt guy appears less often, whether this is related to Covid or not, I have no idea.
For me this summer existed through our yard and garden as well as a series of events/happenings/gatherings.
Johnstown Juneteenth.
Pride Johnstown
Pride Somerset
Rhythm Revival
Rehoboth
This summer, it was psychologically difficult to reemerge and go from being in a tiny Covid bubble to dancing, singing and celebrating with my communities and beloved friends. It felt strange, weirdly exhausting and at the same time deeply connecting.
All of these events and happenings were wonderful celebrations of Resilience/Identity/Creativity/Revitalization/Nourishment/Tenderness.
And they were all outside.
This summer began with the availability of the vaccine, bringing hope and relief and sadly, ending with the Delta variant, accompanied by the huge amount of misinformation circulated being just as contagious as this variant.
All of this combined with a hearty dose of fear and uncertainty one week before school starts here in Johnstown, Pennsylvania, is not a desired place to land.
I myself, am still processing the heartbreak and grief for the loss of life as well as the enormous disregard for human life, the disregard for science, for facts, for common decency and the common good. I lament and mourn with ritual, with song, with writing a lot of bad poetry, moving my body and when necessary, wailing and keening.
Grief can be loud and messy.
We are all tasked with living with uncertainty through these times. We can do the best we can do make informed, safe, healthy, considerate decisions for ourselves, our families and to think beyond ourselves to our communities, especially to those who are vulnerable due to illness/not being able to be vaccinated and other risk factors.
No one is expendable.
And what else is there?
For me, leaning and living into the questions that arise in this uncertainty gives me breathing room and space.
What other possibilities exist when we are called to alter and change our way of living?
How can I live into a more relational way of existing in my professional and personal life?
How can I resource myself to able to draw on my reserves when the going gets rough?
Who else thinks this way and can we collaborate together? Where are my people?
In what ways can I be of service in supporting the resiliency of my community, not merely so people can bear more suffering but so we can with fresh eyes, vision social and economic ways of being that are relational, sustainable and rooted in respect and honoring the life of all Beings and the Earth?
How can we continue to gain collective clarity in the face of continued hardship?
Where are the emerging blessings?
The most important: How do we co-pilot with God or that which we believe to be greater than our own existence?
I have no answers, only curiosity that comes from an open, seeking, expansive heart.
So, I will leave you with this poem which opened/expanded/nourished my own aching/tired yet curious heart.
Resurrection by Molly Fumia
Resurrection. The reversal of what was thought to be absolute. The turning of midnight into dawn, hatred into love, dying into living anew.
If we look more closely into life, will find that resurrection is more than hope, it is our experience. The return of life from death is something we understand at our innermost depths, something we feel on the surface of our tender skin. We have come back to life, not only when we start to shake off a shroud of sorrow that has bound us, but when we begin to believe in all that is still endlessly possible.
We give thanks for all those times we have arisen from the depths or simply taken a tiny step toward something new. May we be empowered by extraordinary second chances. And as we enter the world anew, let us turn the tides of despair into endless waves of hope.
I will meet you in the waves of Hope. I will be singing and dancing and I will definitely have snacks!
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