September 23, 2014

This world is filled
With so much pain
And so much joy pours down like rain.
I lift my arms
And drink it in
And every day begin again.
     Grant me the serenity
     To accept the things I cannot change
     The courage to change the things I can
     And grant me wisdom–that hard bought wisdom–that holy wisdom
     To know the difference
When this world’s love
Meets this world’s hate
Which one will win I cannot say
I can’t control
What others do
I only hope it’s love I choose
     Grant me the serenity…     Words and music by Neal Hagberg

I am meditating as the sun slips above the lip of the horizon.  Breathing in love and light; breathing out the knot in my gut.  I am stronger this week.  But the scouring winds of change still howl.  I’m seeking that place of safety and silence deep down inside; listening for the quiet voice of Spirit.

In my mind I come to the creek in the middle of the forest where I come so often to Listen.  It has always been a green and sunny season here…the water bubbling and tumbling, the tall pines whishing in the wind, soft moss cushioning the banks.  But as the image of my quiet place comes into my mind……it is winter!  Even in the midst of a meditation where my mind chatter never shuts up I feel the lurch of shock at the sudden intrusion of this winter image.  The creek and the little waterfall are frozen; the ground buried under glittering snow; the sky grey and heavy with cloud.  There is a small fire burning.  I feel a second lurch of shock for next to it lies the Wolf who even when I sense his presence in this inner space, normally keeps back in the shadows of the trees.  Only a few times has he come fully into my presence to speak.


My mind chatter goes silent.  I look around wondering what this means.  Stillness, absolute stillness.  I notice that other Beings who are often present in this place with me are absent.  Solitude.  Is this winter image a message that I need to retreat into the frozen stillness between the dying flames of Summer and the new life that will come maybe with the Spring?  It has never been winter in this place before.  I sit by the fire, and look at the Wolf.  He looks steadily into my eyes and places a single word in my mind.  Stasis.

Stasis?  That means a lack of movement, doesn’t it?  Balance, but not necessarily positive balance.  Uncertain, I look up the word in my dictionary app.

Stasis:  1. The state of equilibrium or inactivity caused by opposing equal forces.

Jaw drop.  Light and Dark.  Love and Fear.  Joy and Despair.  Peace and Rage.  Indeed, have I not been stuck between these forces?  And haven’t I indeed allowed the paralysis of fear to keep me spinning in unproductive drama–frozen as it were?

Stasis:  2.  Stagnation of the flow of any of the fluids of the body, as of the blood in an inflamed area or the intestinal contents proximal to an obstruction.

Read: stagnation of the flow of my life–the flow of love, the flow of my creativity–due to the obstructions built of the old energies still operative in my mind and heart; energies that wear away my body’s vitality and cloud my vision with false perceptions because they “feel” true.  Like feeling that the Source of Divine Love and Grace has utterly abandoned me–because I feel lost in the dark with a broken compass (in fact, I have been told repeatedly the way out), because I am without answers (in fact, I have been given the answers that matter in the moment), because one thing after another doesn’t work out according to my definition (or anyone else’s for that matter) of thriving (think tantrum, toddler style).

Ahhhhh…  Breathe in.  Breathe out.

So, this Winter in the core of my Being reflects my current condition–stasis, basically stuck–between Light and Dark, Love and Fear, Joy and Judgment.  My life cannot flow.  My writing cannot flow.  Yeah, well, duh….

There is nothing that I can do but continue to do what I already know I’m to do: release everything made of the old energy of fear and shame, guilt and regret.  Let go of all the dreams I have held in a white knuckled grip, even if letting go means their death.  Let go of my rage and anger and judgment, toward myself and others.

There is nothing left but to open, open up to everything I fear.  Open up to the nameless One, the faceless One Who refuses to be defined or confined to any one culture’s story.  Open to this Love that I long for but resist.

Release and open.  Relax.  Allow.  Remain carefully in the present moment and notice every blessing, notice everything that is imbued with life and beauty.  And be grateful.  Yes, truly grateful for what is in this moment.  Who knows what will come along a few moments from now?  Maybe the very dream I finally released to ride the wind!

A dear friend wondered once why this journey I am on that has taken me so deeply into the Universe that is within me never seems to come to resolution.  I didn’t disagree.  This is part of why I have been so discouraged and angry.  After all the work I’ve done to heal–shouldn’t I be healed already?  Wouldn’t I do more good putting all this energy into doing good stuff out in the world and cease spending so much of it on navel gazing?  For having chosen to set the course of my journey to the learning of Love and the living of Joy, why indeed has it been so incredibly, impossibly difficult for me to live easily from this place?  Having determined to live in a manner that allows me to thrive and therefore will enable me to help those around me and the world to thrive, why does the land of thriving seem no more than a mirage of water in the desert at high noon?

I don’t know.

Maybe it has to do with how prone we humans are to intellectualize so many of the beliefs we profess while not really working them into the skin and bones of our lives.  How much of my “hard work” was mental gymnastics, emotional angst and the gathering of lots of helpful information versus the real action of choosing a different way to respond to the situations I experienced in the moment I was experiencing them?

Or maybe it’s onion layers.  Peeling back the layers and layers of conditioning, of control-freak ego, of deeply entrenched and culturally reinforced beliefs.  Now I’ve come to the core.  Now there is nothing for it but to give way entirely to the Soul within me, “God Inside” as I’ve heard it said.

Both perhaps.

But the Wolf has returned for me.  The first time he came to me he challenged me.  He let me know that I would only be allowed to run with the Wolves if I chose to gather my courage and stand in my strength.  I think he was a little bit disgusted with my wallowing.

Now, several years later he has come again.  He has come to lead me out of this place of Winter stasis.  It is time for me to run with the Wolves.


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