1111 devotion

Retreat! – Day Sixty Four

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Photo: Prime.peta.org

Retreat!

“Prairie Dog medicine teaches that strength and inspiration can be found by retreating into the stillness that quiets the mind. The strength of this medicine is also knowing when and how to replenish your life force. Prairie Dog medicine people tend to seek self-empowerment in silence and inactivity, where they can access dreams and visions without the intrusions of worldly chaos. When they reenter the world, they are profound and powerful anchors of calm resolve amid life’s storms.” (Medicine Cards, p. 225)

 

On the first day of January, I chose Prairie Dog not only on my day, but also as an indicator of the essential theme for my 2019.

But instead of having Raven underneath, as I did last year, Beaver showed up.

I have to admit, I was surprised. It was (and still is) feeling like this year is going to have a distinctly different flavor than 2018. So, given my assumptions about last year’s Prairie Dog and how they played out, I wasn’t expecting to pick it again this year.

In fact, it’s almost amusing. As I was walking along our dirt road two weeks ago, passing the entrance to the state park near our home, enjoying the unseasonably balmy weather of that first day of the year, I distinctly remember thinking to myself that I’ve let go of the idea of writing a sequel. At least for now, anyway.

There’d been at least three distinct moments last year when I’d set aside time and immersed myself in my old journals, taking a deep dive into the thoughts and feelings surrounding that time in our lives that feels so important for me to share as the next step in our grand adventure. Each of those entry points into manifesting my intention, however, seemed to be derailed by something momentous occurring within our family that demanded my absolute attention.

My Assumption Wasn’t in the Cards

What I’d assumed that Prairie Dog was bringing me just wasn’t in the cards. That doesn’t mean, however, that PD had been a pick that made no sense. Quite the contrary. I was forced to withdraw from a lot of engagement with the outside world in order to address the stuff that needed attention here at home. And I needed to take care of myself, so I didn’t blow out.

I believe the Raven underneath reflected some major magic and healing that Karl experienced, which translated into coloring my entire world simply because our lives are that inextricably linked. I think I can safely say that neither of us saw it coming. I know I can say the ripple effects will certainly extend well into the future.

And so, here I am. I’m not assuming the Prairie Dog that showed up for this year has anything to do with my writing. And let’s face it: taking on this 1111 Devotion has changed my relationship to my writing profoundly, even if my posts, on average, are pretty short. Writing every day for public consumption is weird. And I’m not sure if or how it’s going to influence whether I tell the next chapter of my story in the form of a book. We’ll see.

Prairie Dog’s Literal Message

“Prairie Dog…calls me

     when it’s time to rest,

When it’s time to honor

     the internal quest.

I go into retreat

     so I may see,

A way to replenish

     The potential in me.”

As I mentioned yesterday, it’s pretty obvious that Prairie Dog could be giving me a very clear and literal  message that I am to lead more retreats this year. (Speaking of which, I need to tell you about a really cool one I’ll be co-leading in May. But I’ll give that its own post.)

Beaver’s Contribution to the Message

Truthfully, given the presence of Beaver underneath this year’s pick, it looks like that could very well be where these critters are leading me. That’s because, beyond the above quote about going ‘into retreat,’ Beaver is all about teamwork and building something with others.

Indeed, a salient paragraph of Beaver is as follows:

“To understand Beaver medicine, you might take a look at the power of working and attaining a sense of achievement. In building a dream, teamwork is necessary. To accomplish a goal with others involves working with the group mind. Group mind constitutes harmony of the highest order, without individual egos getting in the way. Each partner in the project honors the talents and abilities of the others, and knows how to complete the piece of the puzzle that belongs to them. In working well with others, a sense of community is achieved and unity ensues.”

The fascinating thing about this is that this will be the first year I’ve run a retreat with a partner, a co-presenter. And it will be held in a completely different setting than any retreat I’ve run prior to this, with lots of other people involved, and even a different core audience. So there will most definitely be ‘group mind’ at work on a lot of different levels.

Back to Waiting

Now, whether this is how Prairie Dog/Beaver works out in the long run, we’ll just have to wait and see.

Which brings me back to my theme yesterday: waiting.

Is this the year of an active or passive Prairie Dog? Guess I’ll find out.

Either way, it seems obvious I will need to take extra care of myself, since “…Just as Native American warriors knew when to charge forward and when to become invisible, the Marmot tribe knows how and when to retreat. The Prairie Dog runs for the tunnels when a predator is on its trail; in the winter (ahem), it conserves energy by hibernating during the scare time of the cold moons.”

I think I’ll go hunker down now.

Wikipedia.com

(T-1047)

Moon Shot – Day Sixty One

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 2 Comments
Sayan Mountains, Buryatia, Siberia       Photo by L. Weikel

Moon Shot

Did anybody catch the error of my moon shot last night?

Didn’t think so.

I blew it. I snagged a photo I’d taken of the moon not last night but actually several years ago, hoping I was catching the same waxing crescent as it was last night. But I had a sneaking feeling I wasn’t getting it right.

Sure enough, when I walked outside tonight and looked up at Mama Killa, she was definitely facing the opposite direction of the photo that I’d included in my post last night.

Is She Coming or Going?

I think that qualifies me as potentially lunar dyslexic. By looking at the crescent, I can’t tell if it’s coming or going. So I figure maybe if I publicly confess my egregious lapse in knowledge, I will drill it into my brain.

I’m realizing that the moon grows and begins reappearing to us from her new moon ‘dark’ phase from right to left, which is kind of interesting. If you think about it, so much of our culture is trained to think things ‘progress’ by moving left to right. We read left to right. We write left to write.

But the moon, which is associated with the feminine, the hidden, the occult, the intuitive, progresses in the opposite direction. It therefore truly does reflect the feminine ‘yin’ to the sun’s ‘yang.’

Which reminds me that we’re in the midst of two eclipses this month. The first occurred on January 5thand was a solar eclipse. This took place in the sign of Capricorn and was apparently particularly powerful for seeding those new intentions we’re contemplating bringing into our life this coming year.

Coming Up: A Supermoon Lunar Eclipse

The next one (since they always come in pairs), is a lunar eclipse, and will take place the night of January 20thinto the morning of January 21st, depending upon where you live. It is to take place at the same time we’re experiencing a so-called ‘supermoon,’ which should make the deep reddish hue of that “Wolf” moon, when it ‘goes dark’ for the several minutes during which the Earth is directly blocking the sun from it, quite dramatic.

I’m going to be diving into some more astrology soon. I’m feeling a call to learn more about it in a more organized fashion, rather than just picking up bits and pieces of knowledge here and there, as I have so far throughout my life. I’m not planning on learning more in order to give readings or anything, but rather to get a better handle on the celestial influences that are impacting all of us.

I probably won’t blather on too much over it; but you never can tell. When I get enthusiastic about a subject, I do enjoy sharing my delight.

And I’m ready for some delight. How about you?

So dig out those birth certificates and find your time of birth so you can print your ‘natal’ chart and discover more and more about yourself.

But in the meantime, let’s pay attention to that moon, shall we?

(T-1050)

A Trick of Loss – Day Sixty

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Photo by L. Weikel

A Trick of Loss

As I mentioned in a recent post, there are a lot of people in my life who seem to be going through a lot of shit recently. This may be new shit, or it may be older shit they’ve been enduring for a while or what maybe feels like an eternity. And recently, when they thought their shit should be settling down or getting a little easier, they feel like they’ve received a fresh and quite unexpected dump to endure.

Sorry for the scatological references, but sometimes that’s just the way it feels. And sometimes it just feels like the best way to describe the stuff we see happening all around us.

So Much Resilience and Courage

I spent time, both in person and long distance, with a variety of people dear to me today. And all of these people are facing challenges that I dare say no one would electto experience. Yet each of them, while handling each unique challenge in its appropriately different manner, is nevertheless enduring, courageously prevailing, and manifesting resilience in ways that command admiration and honor.

One particular situation I am thinking about this evening is a friend’s marking of an anniversary – the anniversary of a sudden death. A life partner swept away without a goodbye. Without any cherished final moments. Just…gone.

The One Year Anniversary

I know my friend has been dreading the one year anniversary because, let’s face it: who among us who’ve lost anyone truly dear to us hasn’t marked not only the anniversary of our loss, but also the one day, one week, one month, two month, three month markers since that fateful rending of our normality?

But there’s something about ‘one year.’ It feels momentous. I think in some ways, we hope, deep down, that the pain will miraculously lessen. The trauma won’t feel quite so acute.

And in some ways that sort of happens. Kind of.

But what has come as an odd revelation to me is how the actual arrival of the anniversary day is anti-climactic. It is not that the pain is less acute. No, the anniversary is the anniversary. And it is virtually inevitable that you will relive almost minute-by-minute how that fateful day unfolded one year ago.

Surprise: It’s Anti-Climactic

But in truth, you’ve lived and relived and hashed and rehashed that day so many times already, that doing it yet again on the exact one year anniversary almost seems like eating a stale sandwich.

The reason this is so is because the really tricky, shitty part about grief is that it gets you when you’re not quite paying attention. It sneaks up on you and hits you when you’re driving down the road and you pass a cornfield where a sudden, unbidden memory of a joke you shared wallops you between the eyes. It sneaks up on you when you think about the way they looked at you the last time you saw them and casually gave them a kiss. Or the finger.

And those are the things that you feel are going to all rear their ugly heads en masse on ‘the day of the anniversary.’ But they don’t. Not really.

That’s because in the four or five or seven or ten days before the anniversary you’ve already relived those wrenching moments that caught you like a gut-punch at various times throughout the year.

Yeah, it’s the several days before the actual anniversary that are the shittiest. Not only because you’re reliving memories, unbidden and relentless, setting them up in anticipation of the parade of them to be experienced on The Day. But also because precious few others are aware you are going through your own private hell of anticipation.

Grief is a Trickster

And so we get to The Day. We slog through it. We do the stale sandwich reliving of each moment. And there’s almost a sense of disappointment when the pain isn’t quite so breathtaking. Did we do it wrong? Why wasn’t it a more perfectly exquisite grief?

Because grief is a trickster. It took its toll days earlier, weeks earlier. And it’ll whack us again. But never when we most expect it. And it will never feel quite the same. It shifts every time it strikes.

Tomorrow, the day after, will be different. Better in some ways; not so much in others. But the pressure of somehow making sacred that milestone will be relieved, and that, in itself, is the gift.

And even though I didn’t say it, I’ve been holding that space for my friend since the beginning of this month, knowing it was happening. Feeling it. Doing my best to hold the center.

I’m sure we’re all doing this for each other. I know I’m continuing to hold it for many. You know who you are (even if you don’t).

That’s what love is all about.

(T-1051)

I Got Nothin’ – Day Fifty Nine

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I Got Nothin’

I’ve shown up every night for 59 days, trusting I would have something to write about. But tonight? I got nothing’. I know I said at the very beginning of this 1111 Devotion journey that there might be days when I would write one sentence and that would have to suffice.

But I hoped it wouldn’t actually come to that.

And I guess it hasn’t literally come to that today, either, since I’ve obviously written more than one sentence. (Umm, yea for me?)

Get Out Of Jail Free Card

So I’m in the clear. I’ve saved myself from using my Get Out Of Jail Free card tonight.

Which makes me wonder: How many GOOJF cards do I get in the 1111 Devotion? Since I’m making up the rules as I go along, I’d say 111 seems fair. Ten percent. What do you think?

In the grand scheme of things, that might appear reasonable (10%). But wow. Looking at it from the perspective that 10% would give me 111 whole, actual, days of only writing one sentence seems crazily over the top. That’s just shy of four months if I strung them all together.

Funny how perspective can shift everything, isn’t it?

That’s the cool thing about shamanic work, actually. (Bet you didn’t see that correlation coming out of left field, did you?)

Perception and Perspective

But it’s true. So much of what we experience in our day-to-day lives and in our world in general is rooted in our perceptions. And as we learn and grow more adept at shifting our perception, we actually gain the ability to begin shifting our reality in ways we might never have imagined.

And part of how we perceive anything is the perspective from which we look at it. But obviously, before we can shift our perspective, we have to realize what our present one is. How are we looking at something? Is it from a place of fear? Of feeling magnanimous and abundant? Is it from a place of feeling centered and at peace?

There are those varying perspectives we can consider, and then there are different levels of perception we can employ to shift our reality. But again, we first have to train ourselves to become aware of the different levels so we can identify what one we are looking at or perceiving from at any given moment.

So here I am, starting a conversation on how important both perspective and differing levels of perception can completely influence our experience of ‘reality.’ And I’m also suggesting that shamanic work can result in dramatic shifts in not only our perceptions, and perspectives, but also our realities.

That’s some pretty heady stuff to be contemplating right around midnight. Or the crack of dawn, if that’s when you’re reading this.

Checking Our Perspective – Occasionally

Just think about it. If you were told you had only one more month to live, would you look at anything the same way as you are in this present moment? That’s a radical question to ask any of us to contemplate, even if it might be some people’s actual reality. And we might be inclined to judge it as just a dumb intellectual exercise, since it can feel like we are bullshitting ourselves if we really try to imagine looking at ourselves from the perspective of knowing we only have one more month (or week, or day) to live.

But I do think it is helpful, sometimes, to take a personal re-set. To really sit down and think about how we are choosing to perceive our life, our circumstances, our relationships, and even our world, at any given time. Are we looking at these things from the default perspective that ‘things will never change?’ That, it seems to me, is an even greater bullshitting of ourselves than the former.

Ha ha – maybe I should’ve stopped at that one sentence and let things be.

Naaah. I still have 111 in my back pocket. Or do I?

(T-1052)

Weird Day – Day Fifty Eight

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Photo by wsj.com

Weird Day

The weather was cranky and miserable today, mirroring a lot of people’s moods, I suspect. It feels like no one knows what to expect anymore. We sort of lurch from day to day, hoping nothing earth shattering (either literal or figurative) happens.

I’m noticing this sense of edginess all around us, from the micro level to the macro. So many people are dealing with really big  – I’m talking tectonic – shifts in their lives and reality. From continents to countries, states, and towns to people world-wide, nation-wide, and all around us. Quite possibly right in our very own homes. Radical change is upon us.

And we need to know we’re not alone.

Holding the Center

Those of us who may not be experiencing direct seismic activity in our lives at this moment  need to hold the center for those who are feeling the ground move beneath their feet and watching structures they never thought would crumble do so.

Indeed, I had a long conversation today with a good friend who has had her share of times in the wringer. She, too, is feeling the present sense that her energy is best spent in holding the center, being a light, allowing others to reach out and hold her hand as the gale force winds buffet them and threaten to sweep them away.

And that takes energy.

It’s hard sometimes to appreciate just how much energy it takes to hold a calm and peaceful center for others (and ourselves). And it can look from the outside as if we’re not doing anything, which can sometimes make our contributions easier to ignore or at least remain unappreciated. And certainly, for some of us at least, we have no way of being compensated for our efforts. Even if we could quantify it, we probably wouldn’t.

We Need Each Other

All of which is to say: we need each other. And we need to be vigilant in these chaotic times to pay attention to each other and listen. Because sometimes the ones who seem to be holding it all together are actually hanging on by the thinnest of gossamer threads.

The good news is, gossamer threads can be woven together and become nearly indestructible in the blink of an eye. So, it feels like we should honor that possibility. Keep an eye on each other, and take care not to necessarily buy the ‘looks great on the outside’ façade. Listen to each other with our entire beings (and not just our ears).

I feel like a lot of the people I know and love are going through some really trying shit right now. And I want you to know, I’m doing my best to hold the center. You’re not alone.

 

(T-1053)

Never Too Late – Day Fifty Two

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Never Too Late

As we’re only drawing to a close the 2ndday of January (or for many of you, just beginning the 3rd), I’m trusting that the lustre of choosing to bring something nurturing or stimulating or creative into your life, as I encouraged in my New Year’s Eve post, has not yet worn off. And remember: it’s never too late to begin.

I find the thought of ‘bringing in’ new experiences or activities to our lives, and hopefully making them habit-worthy, simply tantalizing. I can’t wait to see and hear about how your new devotions play out in your perception and appreciation of your lives.

Discovering Doors to Our Future

It’s as if we’re opening a door to our future that we’ve barely even allowed ourselves to see before now. When we’ve looked in that direction other times, all we’ve seen is a wall because we needed to make ourselves perfect before giving ourselves permission to indulge in an urge to create something uniquely ours or engage in something that simply brings us joy.

And yes, even bringing in the opportunity to read more books is a creative endeavor. Because reading inspires us to live in so many more worlds than we realize could exist if we simply view our own experiences in our own finite bodies to be the limit of what is available to us.

The opportunity, though, to indulge in exploring an activity that has called to us, perhaps in a whisper for the first few years, but which has probably grown louder and more persistent as the years ticked by, can lead us places we might never, ever expect. And while the point of this new perspective is, essentially, to give ourselves permission to listen to our hearts, it can also lead to people outside of ourselves clamoring for more. Or to our passion saving the world. Or maybe even changing the course of history.

Early Choices Shouldn’t Define Us

In our youth-obsessed world, we often tell ourselves that we have to decide what we want to ‘be’ or ‘do’ with our lives by the time we’re 18. Some people are given leeway and permitted to explore who they are and what they want to ‘do’ in the world by taking a variety of courses in college.

I don’t know about you, but that was a myth for me (and I went to college a long damn time ago). You pretty much had to pick the area you wanted to get your degree in and were lucky if you got the chance to take a couple of electives in completely unrelated fields during your entire four (or so) years. Which makes me suspect that it’s even much more rare for young people attending college now to actually explore in that mythical, idealistic portrait painted of college life. It costs too much to lollygag around taking courses you will almost certainly see no tangible monetary benefit from taking.

I bring this up because I feel the vast majority of people walking around today were thrust far too early into making choices that influence everything about the rest of their lives. And they’re left wondering – even if only fleetingly, and ever so quietly to themselves – what it would feel like to immerse their fingers in paint and try to capture the beauty of that bluebird they saw perched on a fencepost along their walk.

As a result, we just deny, deny, deny. “I’m too old.” “It’s too late.” “I don’t know how.” “I have no time.” Oh, the excuses we mouth, each one of them killing our spirit a little bit more with each utterance.

Late Bloomers Are Real

Well, I want to hook you up to a very cool website that just might inspire you to keep up with whatever activity you decided to invite into your life this year.

The website is Later Bloomer, and is created by a friend of mine, Debra Eve. We met way back in 2014 at a writers’ conference in Taos, New Mexico.

I will let you explore her site and perhaps sign up to receive her weekly emails which always have something fascinating to teach me about the possibilities open to us simply by choosing to say yes to our passions instead of making excuses. Or feeling as if we missed the boat when we made life choices at 18 or 22. Or 30. Or…

Indeed, just today I received notification from Debra of a wonderful calendar she’s created for 2019 around the concept of ‘red letter days.’ Check it out.

This year is going to be different, you guys. I know it.

(T-1059)

Living in the Future – Day Fifty One

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Living in the Future

It’s hard not to get ahead of myself sometimes. When I’m pleased or feel excited, I tend to extrapolate and imagine how cool things will be “when _______ happens.” (And no, I’m not encouraging you to play Cards Against Humanity in this post. Although…that could be amusing. And you know which among you would eagerly offer a shockingly off-color suggestion for that blank.)

What I mean is, there’s a part of me that was, as my Irish sisters say, “chuffed” when I got to my 50thpost. And instead of just ‘being’ with that good feeling, I started extrapolating. “When I get to this day next year, I’ll be into the 400s! I’ll be writing my 415thpost!”

Aaarggh. I do not want to do that to myself! And yet I know it’s human nature and therefore futile to hope I won’t succumb to this temptation – and often. But it sure is tedious, always ‘moving the bar,’ so to speak, and assuming the elusive next goal will be way better and more impressive to achieve than this one. And what does it get me?

N-O-T-H-I-N-G.

Nothing at all. Except it does manage to snatch my present sense of accomplishment from the jaws of a healthy, yet un-inflated, self-esteem. Always keeping myself guessing, I suppose.

But I mention this not because I remained in that mind-space. I saw where my habitual thinking wanted to take me and I snagged it, brought it back, and stomped it into unconsciousness. (Just kidding! Seeing if you were paying attention.)

No, I saw where my habitual thinking wanted to take me and I did indeed snag it. But I just rolled my eyes, laughed at myself, and hoped I’d make it to #51, while enjoying the simple pleasure of having reached the 50th. And I’m mentioning all of this because I firmly believe we all need to remember that we’re not here to be perfect!

No matter how hard we try, we’re not perfect. And we’ll never be perfect. Why? Because perfection is not only unattainable. It’s boring. And we wouldn’t learn anywhere near as much as we do living in our imperfection.

Perfection is Unattainable (and Boring)

We’re not going to find much, if any, profound and meaningful satisfaction with either ourselves or how we’re meeting our commitments by reaching some arbitrary, magical number of posts published, journal pages written, photos taken, or books read per month. The sooner we realize that, the better.

And trust me, I remember when I used to think every one else could strive for – or be satisfied by – mediocrity, but I was different. I would persist. I would do ‘it’ (whatever exacting standard I set for myself) through sheer force of will. And man, while I would not trade the level of success I generally enjoyed for my efforts, I would lighten up just a little on the jumping into the future gig. Because as cliché as it sounds, it is sheer insanity to pin all your happiness on the successful attainmentof a goal, on breaking the tape, or on writing that 1111th post.

The test of our humanity is to figure out the trick of living our lives in fullness and balance as we strive toward accomplishing that goal.

And by that I mean setting a goal (i.e., committing to writing 1111 consecutive blog posts), and finding a sense of satisfaction and healthy pride in oneself every day a post gets published. Extra credit for those days when a post has the effect of speaking to the hearts of those who read it, for those are precious.

There is something to be said for showing up. For being willing to not always be some shining example of awesomeness that you wish others would perceive you as being. But if we’re honest? The ones we’re actually trying hardest to impress are the exacting bastards that live inside of us.

They’re tamable. At least I’m determined to give you a glimpse of how I make the effort to live with them. In balance. Here’s to 2019. May we LIVE this together! In perfect imperfection!

(T-1060)

Commitment – Day Fifty

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Commitment

OK, I’ll admit it. I’m pretty much phoning this one in.

I’m nursing a slight headache, I was a little brought down by yet another day full of low hanging clouds and relentless rain, and this is my fiftieth consecutive post!

Actually, that last part makes me smile.

I’m glad I’m sitting up here on my bed, with but minutes to spare before the ball drops and 2019 begins, and I’m writing this.

I find it fascinating that I feel so connected to you; and I do feel that there is a ‘you’ at the other end of this post. There are eyes reading these words. And I’m intrigued by this relationship I feel we’re cultivating.

If I didn’t feel something, I wouldn’t be sitting up here all by myself, writing this. But I’m not all by myself, am I?

Thank you for supporting me energetically and otherwise over the past fifty days.

I’d like to invite each one of you to join me in some form of devotion to yourself in 2019. Maybe contemplate not giving something up as you enter this new year, but rather bringing something in, instead.

Turning off the television and reading for an hour before bed every night.

Keeping a journal and writing at least one page (and preferably three – wink wink), every day.

Drawing or taking a photograph with your phone every single day to document your joy.

Realizing you are loved. And appreciated. Even if it is ‘only’ by yourself.

Thank you for walking beside me. I look forward to 2019 – together.

(T-1061)

Hoarding or Holding? – Day Forty Eight

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Hoarding or Holding?

I’m struggling a bit.

I’ve been fantasizing for a few years about cleaning out what we call our ‘office’ and making it a place where Karl can paint and I – possibly, occasionally (probably never) – might read or write especially when I need some sunshine in the winter.

The reason I’ve been relegated to fantasizing about this for at least the last couple of years is because it entails going through files. And I am nothing if not exceedingly organized, with a file for everything – and occasionally a couple for the same thing. Also called inadvertent redundancy.

Filing Cabinet of Life Events

I started this post out with the intention of reflecting on that razor’s edge upon which I slip and slide (and often cut myself) when going through filing cabinets that seem to hold the history of our life as a family. You see, there is a filing cabinet I’ve moved from law office to law office, with a final resting place in my home office. For many years, it held my active legal files. Then as the kids got into high school and college, it started holding inoculation records, academic awards, test results, and newspaper clippings. Files were created for traffic tickets and leases, contracts and resumés. Some of the legal intermingled with the personal: my parents’ estate files, for instance.

Well, it’s time to move the filing cabinet out of the ‘office’ in order to transform the room into a studio. Studios don’t have filing cabinets. Ok, maybe some do. But not in this house.

And that’s not to say that I don’t have an effective filing system that is shifting to the ‘library annex’ mentioned in one of my previous posts. Nope; given that I’m the one that keeps all the records of all our businesses and family and home life, they’re of course moving with me to said ‘library annex.’ But I’m cleaning out that filing cabinet.

And I’ve been steadfastly refusing to clean that baby out for years now, precisely because of the nature of the files that made their way into it.

Without Proof Does a Life Disappear?

So today, I found myself in tears. Damn it; didn’t want to go there. I’m stuck, feeling the dilemma of deciding what to do with the files documenting Karl’s applications to colleges in 1999. His exchange experience in Norway. His grades at NYU; the details of his management contract in California and NYC. There’s so much history in those files.

Poor Sage – home for the holidays and eager to help me shift the life of the room to a studio… He checked on me at one point and realized I had tears running down my face, ridiculously wondering out loud if I threw stuff away that documented these milestones, would that erase all proof that Karl had existed?

And so I am left with that nagging question of how much to save and how much to feed the shredder.

I’m not inclined to scan this stuff, so that’s not an option. It will either survive as a real-life, tangible document, or it will be gone. <<Poof>> Just like he was. Just like we all are. From documents to artwork to green eyes and dazzling smiles.

Where’s the Edge?

So what is the edge between hoarding the memories in an unhealthy manner and holding on to some aspects of life as evidence for our future ancestors to literally hold and turn over in their hands? And why or for whom do I do either? Or neither?

Sometimes I wish I could just throw it all out with abandon. And then I think about the thousands of people who’ve lost everything in fire, flood, or other disaster, and I’m grateful for the torture these choices represent.

(T-1063)

Sacred Space – Day Forty Six

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Sacred Space

Wow.

When I woke up this morning, I was not, shall we say, “rarin’ to go.” I even asked Karl to take my temperature, as I felt like a furnace and thought my bedclothes might spontaneously combust. We’ll never know, since we don’t actually own a regular, old-fashioned thermometer anymore. We only have one of those stupid electronic ones that take a watch battery or something, which of course was clearly not operating correctly, since I’m pretty sure I’m not 94.6 degrees.

I had to rally, though. I had an appointment with a client, from whom I’d sensed some trepidation in the weeks beforehand as we’d exchanged emails setting it up. I could feel that the client was both eager to have the session, yet at the same time was feeling some anxiety as the appointment approached. And I’d sensed, just ‘from afar,’ that she might be second-guessing herself over the past couple of days.

I know that feeling well. It almost always precedes a breakthrough or an opportunity to let go of a way of being or thinking that has in many ways defined us for a long period of time. It’s natural – a part of human nature. Of course I’ve witnessed it in clients many times. But I’ve also felt it personally. I’m no stranger to jumping off cliffs myself.

So unless I was literally unable to function, I was determined to get to my office. (I should hasten to assure you that, had I felt I would somehow be contagious or a danger to my client, I definitely would have stayed home). But basically, I just felt crappy. I could see it in my eyes when I peered at myself in the bathroom mirror. They were gray, and a bit dull.

To Cancel or Not to Cancel

Karl suggested maybe I should cancel.

“No,” I countered, popping two Advil and a Sudafed. “I’m going to give it a try.”

Deep down, I was confident I had an ace in the hole. The truth is, I’d experienced the miraculous effects of this secret ally before, but at the same time, I did not want to assume it would happen this time – and make an affirmative statement about it. I’m leery of making assumptions, probably because they feel disrespectful. So I left with an attitude of “I will show up for my client, and hope Spirit shows up for me.”

My secret ally is Sacred Space. It is the nearly indescribable but unquestionably palpable shift in energy that occurs when I call in my allies, guardians, and guides, as well as the archetypal energies associated with the cardinal directions, Mother Earth, and All That Is (Above).

Creating Sacred Space is probably the most amazing thing I ‘do,’ and yet it has nothing to do with me. It has everything to do with the unseen, creative, magnificent forces that watch over and guide all of us. It is the healing space where miracles occur spontaneously and easily. It is the safest and most comforting place to simply be. And I knew if I could get myself to the office and create this Sacred Space, not only would I feel better, but my client, too, would discover the peace that comes from simply experiencing and being within it.

Sacred Space Saved the Day

I trusted what I know about Sacred Space. And the only way I know is through experience.

Our session was long. Our work went deep. My client has lived a life of challenges and heartache. But we prevailed.

I forgot about how crappy I’d felt when I awakened this morning. Indeed, when I texted Karl after completing the session, his first question was to ask how I felt. “I’m a little tired, I guess,” was my response.

I’d completely forgotten my morning malaise. Sacred Space had shifted and transmuted everything – for both my client and myself. We’d both broken through.

(T-1065)