Pondering... 30 in 30 - Day 16

What are the boundaries of self-indulgence? Are personal actions overly indulgent if they inspire others to live more fully? What is your criteria for taking care of self, going on retreat, saying no to stifling obligations, or yes to life-giving opportunities? What inspires you? Consider the movies, books, or stories that tug at your heart or bring tears to your eyes. Do you long to be the bold singer on stage or a cloistered monk living in Tibet? Can you see yourself as a renowned chef or perhaps the lead cyclist on the Tour de France? Might you consider that these tugs of heart could lead you to your best life?

What does it mean to inspire or be inspired? Are you pursuing your wildest dreams or do you vicariously live through the lives' of others? From where does your inspiration come? One of my favorite songs begins with the words, "if I were brave." Ponder this: What would you do today if you were brave? Imagine what inspires you in others and then consider how you might choose to find it in yourself. And once you do... be sure to pass it along.

Diamonds in the Soul - helping high-functioning, under-living people recover and nourish
personal delight & joy in life.

Pondering... 30 in 30 - Day 2

When Pigs Fly

Pedrita gazed upward into the night sky, pondering the question: When will I ever learn to fly? Her nights were dream-filled while her days were spent in the barnyard surrounded by fellow swine. The others passed their hours trudging back and forth between feed trough and mud pit. They slogged through the days mimicking perfect barnyard behavior infused with virtually no enthusiasm.

Pedrita, however, knew she was destined for more. Instead of snarfing down her slop, she would pause and be curious about where her meal had been before. Whose leftovers was she sharing? Did the grains come from the field over there? Was her mother gluten intolerant? Is that why she's so cranky? Pedrita spent her waking hours pondering and pondering and even though the other animals made fun of her and called her whacky, she offered them kindness and gentleness rather than matching their derision.

Every night she would gaze into the heavens and imagine herself floating among the stars. She could see herself reflected in the constellations and knew she was special and shiny. She tried to tell her friends about the magic night sky, but they were more concerned about the next meal and what everyone else was doing. Ped, however, would not be dissuaded. She continued to dream her dreams and wish upon the glowing stars. She saw beauty in everything and offered compassion unceasingly, even to the piglets who laughed at her wistfulness. Nothing could deter her from reaching for the stars.

Each evening while standing under the moonlit sky, she offered compassion to the whole world - especially the parts she didn't understand. She sincerely believed we are all made of stars, and as she nurtured this belief something gradually changed within her. Her heart sprouted wings and under the winds of generous compassion, one night she defied gravity and rose to join the twinkling lights of the sky.

She quit trying to convince others to change and went about her days seeing her mates perfect as they were with all their slogging and slopping. By day, she was a simple swine reaching out to others through curiosity and kindness. Little did they know, however, that through these daily actions she nurtured the incredible lightness of being that carried her, Pedrita the pig, soaring through the starlit nights.

Inspired by Pedro's prompt: When will pigs fly? And will we fly alongside them...

kauai pigs © h3images

Prizes for you... Inspiration for me... Check it out!!!

Diamonds in the Soul - helping high-functioning, under-living people uncover & maintain personal delight & joy in life.

Pondering... 30 in 30 - Day 1

"Best to be like water... it pools where humans disdain to dwell." -- Tao Te Ching

Today I will begin with openness. I will play with these crazy thoughts and nonsensical experiences that flow through my mind as I awaken this day. I will be adventuresome and see where the ideas invite me to go. I will be like a child on summer vacation allowing myself to move through my list of desires and needs with playful abandon and an open heart. When things cease to become play I will stop and breathe.

I will remember the wholeness of delight and joy that comes when I declare myself "Enough." To stand in my own power and desire brings richness to my life. The words shift and form until they announce "I am fully alive." I am created to play and my life is not about work.

Today I will begin with the nonsensical and allow myself to not make sense of it all for this would be an exercise in futility. I will begin this day with openness, pleasure and curiosity. I will invite play into my moments. I will allow my words to flow like water and dare to travel to the place that others resist. Today I will begin with me.

Prizes for you... Inspiration for me... Check it out!!!

Diamonds in the Soul - helping high-functioning, under-living people uncover & maintain personal delight & joy in life.

A Simple Sunday Post

Freedom, pleasure and ritual. What are mine? Stretching before I arise. Steaming hot coffee, fresh in the moment. A burning candle to awaken my senses. Music for ears and soul. Gentle pleasures. A desire to live in France or at least embrace the joie de vivre. To not fear dying. To not fear living. Awakening to everything. Pleasure. Desire. Wellness. Fear.

Freedom to speak my mind and share my magic. To spread my arms and soar like an eagle or the graceful pelican along the Sonoran sea. Pleasure to walk on the beach and feel the sand between my toes. To climb a rock wall and feel the strength of my body. To witness the lean and toned muscles in my arms that share the same body with crepe paper thighs. To knowingly love the signs and tokens of where I’ve been and who I am.

What brings you freedom and pleasure? What is the ritual that awakens your senses?

lucy's climb © 6.2011

Turning the Tables

"Never forget: This very moment, we can change our lives. There never was a moment, and never will be, when we are without the power to alter our destiny. This second, we can turn the tables on Resistance.

This second, we can sit down and do our work." -- Steve Pressfield, The War of Art

Late yesterday afternoon and into the evening, I noticed that I was uncharacteristically unsettled and unmotivated. I ate crummy tortilla chips for dinner and lay on the sofa watching endless episodes of Cougar Town. Yuk. I felt not only restless, but also rather worthless. The evening slipped into this surreal game of chess where I moved from couch to back porch with fresh air, and then returned to the stifling inside air and sofa.

Open hours lay before me and it was the perfect time to write and add a few more entries to my nearly finished compilation of daily meditations. Subliminally (and not so much so), the message I was avoiding crept into my consciousness: My writing is worthless. Quickly followed by, I am worthless. Byron Katie's (BK) first question of "The Work" ran through my mind saying, "Is that true?" Again, Yuk. Sometimes I get so tired of the questions and want them to stop. I encourage the judgmental voices to back off, but mainly I desire for this lethargy to end. I want to write. I want to finish my book and I am terrified of finishing it. It is a big part of me and if you don't like it then you won't like me. Again I hear BK say, "Is that true?" In some ways it is true, because, you see, my writing is me. It is my story, my heart, my soul. I feel exposed as I write and I feel more whole than almost any other place I know. I find in writing that ground of meaningful connection and if for only a moment, you connect with me, then you have seen me and I you.

I spent some time today with my coaching buddy working around the thought, My writing is a waste of time. Together we explored what I consider 'valuable' and what is a 'waste' for me. As we talked and wiggled the thoughts via BK style, themes came up. Overplayed ones and new ones. Old ones with fresh twists. Begrudgingly, I dove back into that familiar place where I decided that it's not my writing that is a waste of time, but rather I am the waste. It stems from old stories and while I hate to disparage my deceased mother or put the blame on her, it comes back to the messages I heard (whether they were delivered that way or not) that I had wasted her time. The story goes that my father was the one who wanted another baby. I've often wondered how my mother would have spent her time had she not had to care for me, "the baby," of the family. Did I keep her young or make her old? Did I enrich her life or did I waste her time? While I can never really know the truth of those questions, my guess is I probably did a little bit of both.

During the course of our exploration, my buddy and I landed on several themes that showed up for me while naming how I see "valuable." Words like flow, enjoyable and fun rose to the top. Restful, playful and engaging also made the top ten. Pondering (which is what I love to do most) seemed to encompass most of them. When I place a judgment (or value) on my writing, such as other people have to like it to be valuable or it needs to be published to be worth something, then I take away the flow and the enjoyable aspect. I start to perform for others rather than myself. I aim to please the ghosts of my past by projecting into the future. When the truth is I will never please anyone 100% of the time, including myself.

As we continued to do turnarounds, the last most surprising and enlightening one popped out of my mouth: Wasting time wastes me. When I lay on the couch and eat junk food while watching mindless TV, I am wasting myself. I can feel it in my body as the lethargy (not rest) seeps in. While my hunger scale says it's time to eat, I sense and know that what I'm ingesting is not satisfying. I turn on myself. I choose to not write or feel good. I become the waste that I fear I am. Isn't that fascinating?

The beauty of this coaching-type work is that once I landed on "Wasting time wastes me," I got pretty indignant and took the control back into my own hands. (Oh wait, I think it was there the whole time.) Nonetheless, my energy shifted, my motivation revved up and, voila, the words began to flow onto the page. The tables had been turned. Isn't that fascinating?!?

Robin's Song

I awoke feeling a little restless today. Kind of excited and a bit overwhelmed. That’s what sometimes happens when life presents so many full possibilities – ranging from new creative adventures to curling up with my Lenten readings.

While sitting at my desk just now, I caught sight of a glorious robin sitting at the tip top of a barren tree. She takes my breath away as I hear her song across the rumble of a school bus and the music playing gently in the background of my room. Her wings flap and I see the brilliant orange of her chest. Ahhh. Breathe. One. Two. Three. Four. I am here now.

A friend wrote me last week about a robin that’s been banging on her window whenever she tries to sleep or read in her room. My friend was not quite as enamored with her robin and was considering homicide (due to sleep deprivation). I encouraged her to not shoot the bird as it might be a sign of new growth in her life.

When I revisited Animal Speak this morning these words for robin showed up:

“The song of the robin is a cheery, rolling trill. Part of its purpose is to help the robin establish territory… This is very significant when robin shows up in your life… it reflects a need to sing your own song forth if you wish for new growth. Any confrontations or hindrances are more show than actual threats, so go forward.”

Oh my, there’s the call of the fierce warrior yet again. Breathe. One. Two. Three. Four. I am here now.

Where are you being called to sing your own song? Can you offer it with a cheery rolling, trill like the robin?

© robin's song 3.29.11

Original Medicine

Refining and expanding seems to be a full time endeavor as I begin 2011. It's fantastic, exciting and has kept me away from these pages too long. I miss my blog peeps! I really do. AND - oh my, there's lots going on in Camp Lucy.

One of the foremost ideas on my mind these days is something called "original medicine." Gail Larsen shares this in her book, Transformational Speaking:

"...we are all "original medicine," born to this earth with gifts and talents that are ours and ours alone. If we do not bring those gifts and talents forward, they are lost to the world for all time."

Powerful stuff, huh? Within days of hearing about original medicine, I found myself working with this quote from Martha Graham:

"...because there is only one of you in all time, (your) expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. The world will not have it."

These messages speak loudly to me and remind me that I have something to offer the world - even when my inner critic says, "Who do you think YOU are?" No one is me nor thinks exactly like I or has experienced what I have in the same ways. My goal/role is to find what wants to be birthed into the world - by me. If I keep my expression close to my heart, no one else has the chance see it, feel it or experience it. It's not my job to make others believe anything. It is my desire to share as authentically as I can, warts and all. This is integral to the process of refining and expanding.

If I live in a way that is transparent, authentic and open (TAO), others may begin to see that they, too, have permission to do the same. I lived for most of my life believing that everyone else had "it" figured out better than I. But, no one can figure out me better than I. No one else knows what makes my heart soar or my pulse quicken. Only I know what is best for me.

I'm not sure how much original medicine exists in this post, but my hope and prayer is that something sparks within you (as I ramble on reminding myself of my own spark.) And, if you need permission to share your original medicine... I, lucy of the light, take great pleasure and honor in granting it to you. Now, quick, go be you!!! Namaste.

© lucy & bella - sinai, 2010

A Winding Journey

As I read today's Advent reflection from Birthing the Holy including a poem by Linda Hogan*, I was reminded of a SoulCollage® card I created awhile back. Pulling it out, I began to write and noticed the weavings of this season begin to take shape and offer me this message:

I am one who stands at the threshold.
The cave of death surrounds me - death to past.
The Ancient bones beckon me and tell me to follow my dreams. I am in good company.
If I will raise my eyes to the heavens, I will see the light ahead.

It has been a winding journey - and will continue to be,
but the Ancients are with me and the river is flowing -
"It doesn't look back to where it's been or wonder who ahead of it has polished the rough stones.
It is following the path in its fullness"*
And it's time for me to do the same.

Don't look back.
Raise your eyes and see the expanse before you.
The Ancients are with you. God is with you.
Lift your eyes to the heavens -
to new life.

Brain Washed

Yesterday while attending a brilliant writing retreat, we were given a prompt by the charming Patti Digh that went something like this: In five minutes your brain will be erased, what do you want to remember? As you might imagine an interesting flow opened up. As I sat down this morning, I didn’t particularly intend to share my list, however, it seems important for me (not necessarily you – sorry, dear reader, but I am writing for me). My inner muse says, “Write this down and capture it again.” So here goes, remember this, lucy:

Sun on my skin; the kiss of my husband; hugs of my children; the Sinai Desert; Paris; Ireland; God; ineffable moments; Curry’s breath; Aslan’s purr; knowing my truth; feeling the love of God; the drop of the skydive; the ocean on my skin; sand in my toes; Bermuda blue; humidity in Oklahoma; Egyptian mosquito bites; climbing Sinai; my children being born; the heartache of arrest & addiction; jammy days and Gilmore girls; Soltura Island; the Big Dipper; falling stars; freedom; strength in my body; the love of being seen; bees in the desert; satisfaction of a job well-done; comfort of a cozy bed; that my parents loved me; my sister’s unconditional love; seeing and being seen; the smell of rosemary; the weight of heartache; the swing of the pendulum

Undoubtedly there are things I’ve missed or left out - we had only five minutes, you know? Nonetheless, as I expanded further on these thoughts in another free write, my finishing words became:

If this is what I could remember, it would be enough… more than enough.

Your turn… In five minutes your brain will be erased, what do you want to remember? What would be enough?

Mt. Sinai

Two weeks ago today, I climbed the Mountain - Mt. Sinai. In many ways it was a focal part of this journey - not always for me, but often in the telling for others. It is a place people can imagine in their minds and possibly connect or relate. It's the place where folklore says Moses received the Ten Commandments. It's a destination even those who don't know much about the Bible recognize. The climb is physical, so athletes and adventurers see the appeal to it. It's the place I often mentioned when talking of going to the desert, "I'm going to climb Mt. Sinai."... and so I did. Yet each time I think of it, I remember foremost the drudgery and the day doesn't float to the top of my memory list from the trip.

Today, however, it is the place I am called to write about. I made a collage for that day the night before we climbed and this morning when I looked at that small piece, I heard in my soul, "It was hard AND there was Freedom." Each stone below my foot a reminder to pay attention. Heel, toe, heel, toe. Focusing on balance and presence to keep myself safe on the rocky terrain. Heel, toe, heel, toe. Each stone a reminder of those who go before me today, tomorrow, yesterday. Heel, toe, heel, toe. One foot in front of the other all the way up and all the way down for eight-plus hours. (An interesting side line - when I first wrote "heel, toe, etc.", it came out "heal, toe". I haven't quite decided which spelling is correct...)

Why do I recall the drudgery of this mountain? The Freedom looked different than I expected. So, what did I expect? A mountain top experience, of course! Silly me. Each day is a mountain top yet somehow I've managed to forget that regarding Mt. Sinai. Still, the words "Take off your shoes for you are standing on holy ground" come to my mind. Here is my journal entry from that evening:

"In you we are bound to one another, linked by threads seen and unseen, destined for love in eternity, when all that has been decayed is restored." J. Cotter

Today we pilgrims climbed the mountain - ten in reality and four in spirit with countless others around the world through space and time holding us in prayer. Our dear Sister J led the way as she mounted her camel before dawn (4:30 a.m.) to meet us @ Camelot for sunrise. Like a regal princess warrior in the moonlight, I dubbed her Queen of Sheba.

I didn't particularly like this day until I started connecting the threads through the eyes of my fellow pilgrims. The day started with laughter as my roommate's barking dog alarm sounded, followed quickly by my revving motorcycle @ 3:30 a.m. They were sharp sounds in this monastic environment and the silliness of it combined with the early hour and probably our own excitement sent us into giggling fits.

Our group met in the courtyard just before 4:00 a.m. The sun was still asleep, but the brilliant autumn moon glowed in the darkness. We were saddened to learn we would be two pilgrims short for the trek, however, comforted by the place they would hold for us at the foot of the mountain. Later as the pieces wove together, I knew their prayers were pivotal in our experience and they were with us every step of the way. Quietly, Dr. Rabia walked us to the edge of the monastery (which sits cradled at the base of the mountain) and then our guide, Hussein, took over.

With a waning moon of just over 1/2 full, our path was lit with no need for our flashlights and so the threads began. Our pace was slow - almost painfully so at first. I had to check in with myself and heed my inner voice that said, "Hurry up. Get going." Others must have been feeling the same thing, because one of our spiritual guides reminded us of how often excitement can get in our way and going at a steady pace would serve us well.

The serpentine of pilgrims slowly wound our way up and around the rocky paths and for what seemed like hours, we didn't even know which peak we were attempting to ascend. These mountains are layered upon each other, tucked together, making it impossible from the base to tell one from the other. They are unlike my home mountain of Rainier that stands like sentry for miles over the surrounding land.

There was a party of Greek pilgrims staying at St. Catherine's, too, who made the climb at midnight. They began to dribble by and pass us on their way down along with Bedouins and their camels offering rides to weary travelers. At times I considered taking a ride to break the dull monotony of walking so slowly on the dusty trail. We passed one ramshackle snack shack and then another until we met Sr. J in Camelot* @ Abraham's Tent for coffee, tea and the breakfast we carried in our backpacks. We had been climbing for just over two hours. (*Lest you miss the humor, Camelot is the highest place on the mountain that camels can ascend... thus this is their parking lot. It would be many more narrow steps before we reached the actual summit.)

As we sat on the worn Bedouin blankets, snacking on bread rolls, cheese, honey, apricot jam and hard-boiled eggs, the sun made its appearance over the horizon. Layers of color tinted the air as dawn turned into day and outlines of mountain peaks materialized before our eyes. The sounds of Bedouin chatter, belching camels and other pilgrims danced in the air, punctuated by the occasional whistle of a bird. More than once someone said aloud, "Can you believe it? We're here on Mt. Sinai watching the sunrise!"

On the not-so-romantic side, after breakfast we found ourselves making necessary treks to the WC (water closet sans water), where we thanked God for our strong thigh muscles and mothers who had taught us at an early age to squat and hold our nose all at the same time. After our "ablutions," we gathered inside the tent for our morning liturgy. This was one of my absolute favorite moments of the day. As we began to set the space, our host, Abraham, graciously offered a beautiful cloth and spread it on our altar of well-worn wood. It was a piece both stunning in its magical appearance and the contrast of the rich tapestry inside a makeshift teahouse. Our host's humble gesture taught us all much about hospitality and how beauty permeates the most unexpected places.

The threads of our journey continued as our sacristans lit one candle and generously offered it around the circle. From the small flame, we each inhaled and breathed its precious gifts. My mind drifted back to St. Bridget's well in Ireland and my holy time with another pilgrim where I then, as now, was overcome with emotion and blessings offered without words. Following the ritual of the fire, poetry, scripture and our song leader's voice filled the air. My heart burst with joy at the immensity of this simple gathering and the awareness we were meeting together in a Bedouin tent - pilgrims in the desert - much as it could have been in the time of Moses. We were united where thousands - perhaps millions - of others had gathered for centuries. "Take off your shoes for surely this is holy ground." Giggles escaped my throat as the camel's guttural noises punctuated the Holy silence. Amen. Blessed be.

Why is it not this moment that comes first to my mind when I think of Sinai? Perhaps it will be now. Perhaps I just needed to dust the sand off my memories and remember that this morning on Mt. Sinai I walked on holy ground.

This holy day, I invite you to consider what memories of your own may beckon to have the dust removed. Take off your shoes for surely this ground is holy. Amen. Blessed be.

photos ©lucy

• pre-climb collage/journal page
• Sr. J & her steady mount
• view from Camelot
• sunrise on Mt. Sinai
• pilgrim C & Hussein
  

Home

I've been home from Egypt for three days now. Re-entry has been kind. While busy, I continue to remind myself to take things "slowly, slowly" - a practice offered daily by our wonderful guide and friend Abba Rabia. My body is starting to reset itself - adjusting to the 10 hour time difference and a missed diet of leafy greens and granola.

The dreams that began in the desert continue to be vivid and speak to the depth of this place from where I've come. I have resisted turning on a DVD or Netflix and instead have drifted to sleep reading "Walking the Bible" - picking up where I left off in the Sinai. Stories of Mount Sinai, Father Justin (an American monk residing at St. Catherine's Monastery), burial tombs and Bedouin take on new and more significant meaning now. I have walked those places and met these people. They are imprinted in my DNA.

It's challenging to answer inquiries such as, "Tell me about your trip..." Where do I even begin? My initial response when asked for highlights, most often turns to my time spent wandering and camping in the desert.

"People coming to the desert discover that they are drinking from truth. And people become more at peace with themselves because of this truth, this quiet." Ramadan - a Bedouin from "Walking the Bible."

I have drunk from the truth of the desert. Tasted the painted landscape - the dying Acacia - crumbling rock - shade-seeking lizard - wise camels and their Bedouin leaders. I have been washed in the silence of the early morning and the brilliance of a billion stars - the grit of sand reaching into every nook and cranny. I have felt the freedom of standing naked in a barren landscape blending into and resembling finely chiseled stone.

The earth pulses in the desert. It speaks of ancient times while holding only now. Am I surprised to return home during the week celebrating St. Francis when we are called to recognize the strength and beauty of human nature and its mirror in all of creation?

The desert mirrored beauty back to me - even as my skin grew gritty, my mosquito bites blossomed into epic plague and my hair took on new designs of its own unwashed creation. I was the lizard seeking the cool shade - the camel gently rocking across uneven sand - the mother bird fiercely protecting her nest - and the painted desert floor swirling with patterns few paintbrushes would dare create.

I am home now. What does that mean?

"Wherever you are, if you are close to God, you are close. If you are far away, you are far away. It doesn't matter where you live. It matters what you feel." Anastasis - Monk @ St. Catherine's from "Walking the Bible."

I am home now. I was home there. I have learned to take home with me like a true pilgrim - one who carries my heart wherever I go. I am home and the Sinai is a part of my soul - imprinted in my heart and every fiber of my being. I am home.

Welcome to this space, my friend. Tell me... where do you find home?

Sinai Desert, 2010 ©lucy

The Next Small Step

What happens when you start imagining what you can do and not what you can't? What happens when you do the next small thing instead of focusing on saving the world? What happens when you focus on simplicity rather than complexity? When you follow your heart rather than the world's suggestions? What happens? Simply? - Things begin to change.

Do you want change? Do I want change? Am I open to possibilities beyond my wildest imagination? Am I willing to tread on the ground of an amazing God? Will I take off my shoes because I am standing on holy ground? Even in this moment as I sit and write, the themes of my life swirl around me as I respond and answer Yes, Yes Yes! I am willing to step in AND it can be terrifying.

I've been participating in a weekly exercise called "This week, I will..." The first step being to name my weekly intention. As I sat quietly and journaled, I found "focus on the next small step" to be my intention for this week. It's a harder thing to do than one might think. I find myself easily coming up with the next step, but then quickly wanting to move to the one beyond. So, I reign myself in, slow down and do the smallest step right before me. This morning my step was to clear out my office baskets and file them into my new filing cabinet. Simple, easy and satisfying. This step was followed by going to today's reading from Mark Nepo. Here are the opening words:

"Walker, there is no path, you make the path as you walk." --Antonio Machado

The reading went on to discuss how we are constantly taking first steps and how stepping too far into the future can make us stumble like a toddler who suddenly realizes she's walking on her own momentum or a child learning to ride a bike once the parent lets go. We peddle along content in the trajectory of the present moment until we jolt ourselves into the future by realizing everything that must be done or hasn't been done or should get done...

AND so I choose the only thing I can do. I return to the present. I focus on the next small thing. I take a deep breath. I slow down and step into the holy ground of my heart. As I listen to my body, it confirms my longing. It offers the next step. It opens me up to possibility. It offers me completion and satisfaction, because you know what? I can always do the next small thing - and if that seems too overwhelming, then I back off and make it a little smaller. This reminds me of the powerful knowledge I learned a few years ago when reading The Four Agreements - One of the agreements is "Always do your best." It was incredibly freeing for me to acknowledge sometimes my "best" means staying right where I am - perhaps pulling the covers back over my head and doing only the most basic thing like breathing. So...

What happens when you focus on the next small thing instead of trying to save the world - or your family - or yourself? What happens when you focus on simplicity instead of complexity? What does the next small step look like? I invite you to consider the possibilities of creating the path as you walk. Where do you dream it will go?

shilshole crow © lucy 7.10

I'm a Guest Blogger - Check it out!!

Life is full of such grandness and delight, I hardly know where to begin. For two days now the classic song by Petula Clark has been rolling through my head while I’m “Feeling Groovy.” ☺ Abundance rules with lots of sunshine, exciting adventures, lazy days and more.
Feeling Groovy pretty much sums it up!

Today, I would like to introduce you to a marvelous woman who has been part of all this groovyness with her wonderful work that's been impacting my life over the last seven weeks. Tonya Leigh is one of those women I feel like I’ve known all my life even though we’ve never met in person. On some what of a whim I signed up for her Slim, Chic, Savvy program with hopes of deepening my own awareness around food and body image, as well as exploring new ways to relate to others struggling with their own issues. What I’ve found is a soul sister who’s taken the principles I value in life and translated them into a program for deepening awareness of not only food and weight issues, but one focused on authentic living through pleasure and delight. (Is there really any other way!?!?)

It is my honor to be a guest blogger at Just B Living today, so without further adieu, I invite you to go over and take a peak into today’s offering, Do Slim, Chic, Savvy Girls Play Laser Tag? (The post includes more adventures as a tourist in my own town with my buddy, Seamus.) Enjoy!

While you’re there be sure to sign up for Tonya’s Slim, Chic, Savvy Manifesto. You won’t be sorry!!!

(btw - don't forget to let me know what you think about the guest post ☺.)

seamus & lucy Seattle Center - 7.10

mantra: read, write, rest

“When you live in God, your day begins when you lose yourself long enough for God to find you, and when God finds you, to lose yourself again in praise.” Barbara Taylor Brown

When I was in graduate school, I had a mantra that often helped me through days of intensive study. “Read. Write. Rest. Repeat.” Recently, I’ve found those words re-entering my life. They’ve changed slightly, but they still seem to do the trick. They offer me a pattern that engages, fulfills and restores. Work can be substituted for write and often exercise makes its way into the rest category. Bottom line - my rhythm feels pretty simple and I love it.

It was little surprise, therefore, when I reached for my Kindle yesterday and noticed I was still on the chapter, "Sabbath", in An Altar in the World. My highlighter has worked overtime in this book, (yes, I still underline and make notes in my books – how else will those who read after me know what I found important?) but the passage that stood out today spoke of the lighting of two candles on Shabbat - how one is for rest and the other freedom. The intertwining of those two concepts - freedom and rest - reminds me not only of my mantra, but also the larger notion that without rest, freedom is very likely absent.

It is a fine balance we walk in this world that says productivity is god. Barbara Brown Taylor says this is worshiping the wrong god, and I wholeheartedly agree. So, it was with great pleasure yesterday that I curled up with my cat and my book and found a piece of Sabbath in the midst of a potentially full day. I slowed down just enough for God to find me and for that I am grateful and offer up my praise. It's amazing what happens when I get out of my own way!!

So, do you have a mantra? What does it offer you? Productivity? Sabbath? Both? Neither? Do tell!

www roses by lucy

Emancipation

"If it isn't an experience of newfound freedom, I don't think it is an authentic God experience." -- Richard Rohr

God doesn't make us smaller. When we are "emancipated" as Rohr mentions in his offering today, we are enlarged in our capacity to love - to be - to worship - to live. If I have to live a life of making myself smaller, then I'm not experiencing God fully. Of course, there is sacrifice and it's not about getting what I "want" all of the time. In the words of Mick Jagger - you can't always get want you want, but if you try sometime, you just might find you get what you need. But I digress...

I believe life isn't about making ourselves smaller or taking up too much space, but rather using the space we have wisely. Recently my way of using space (being) and/or doing life has shifted. Activities have been more physical than spiritual - more internal than external - more solitary than communal. I've been asking myself the question: Am I wasting time or am I expanding?

I was reminded this morning to never underestimate the power of morning pages. (Side note - I attempted journaling via 750words.com and while I love the premise, I continue to find there is more magic for me in using my fountain pen and a composition notebook.) Here is my morning response to my own question of wasting time or expanding:

I need to contract - pull back - some of the time or I'll pop like an overstretched rubber band. I need time to percolate - to practice and integrate what I'm learning, just like in yoga. You don't go from zero to perfect pose immediately. Keep returning to the restorative poses. Stretch and return. Push the edges and rest. Perhaps my mind is taking a break to integrate - I'm using my body to recuperate. Mind and body working together to find the balance and wholeness I desire. Ah, newfound freedom in this moment. That's emancipation.

Where are you being stretched? Does lying in "corpse pose" feel restorative or lifeless for you? Thoughts on balance? Emancipation?

"balance" SoulCollage card