I have spent much time during this past weeks feeling full of life, light and joy. Almost too much – like my heart and my whole being might crack with it all. Instead of cracking, it feels like it is e-x-p-a-n-d-i-n-g me instead.
I have also been in conversations with people who are not living through this reality. Who are stepping through heavier moments in their lives. Grief, challenge, irritation. Whatever it is, as I have listened to them they have helped me see that the explosive joy and the lightness is actually not my full experience.
Actually these weeks have also been full of tiredness, of waking with a stiff and achey body; with mind being rather fuzzy and grey. In particular when I wake in the morning.
Rolling over and out of bed, squinting eyes because the light out feels too bright, I make my way sleepily into the day. I choose a play list and begin to move, slowly at first, connecting with the earth of this body, and the body of this earth, moving, easing into embodiment, slowly but surely finding my way into the fire of this body, waking with the sun rising in the sky.
So no, I am not jumping out of bed and exploding into joyous movement. It is slow, a little hard, perhaps not full of beauty and grace, but it is a pathway – each day – that I walk, or dance, into wakefulness. Returning steadily to my incarnate self.
By the end of most dances, light and joy is pulsating in me once more.
I am discovering that on most days, these are ready to enter and flow through me,
perhaps because they are basic elements of this universe. The question is:
Can I open to them?
Can I create enough space in me to receive their flow in me?
Yes I can.
By the end of the dance each morning, I have almost forgotten that this is not how I woke.
I marvel at the flow, and I have already forgotten the stiffness of just one hour ago.
It seems important this afternoon to capture this.
To remember this, as I continue on my journey.
I am not magically ascending into light,
I am slowly but surely, step by step, dancing my way into it.
And there are many ways,
One friend’s practice is time in her garden.
In my old life I would have scoffed at this. Surely that does not count as a practice?
But no, she becomes garden as she sinks her hands into the soil beneath her feet.
Another friend walks.
For hours she can walk, connected to her spirit as she enters the spirit of the land.
I dance. Some meditate. Some sing.
I am curious about the embodied nature of many of these practices
With the body as a gateway,
Aligning mind, body and spirit,
And opening, Opening, OPENING
to the flow of life coming through.
Yes. Here it comes.
Life coming through.