Being in Balance While Counting to Zen

Two weeks into the New Year and I am beginning to feel the realignment of balance and the recognition of coming back to a new normal. A new normal for me.

Each morning, as I sit quietly in the predawn, there is a sense of unfoldment, teasing me in its reveal.

The release of previous holds on me are shifting in ways that are creating a deeper understanding of past patterns and situations. Looking back at them, I see how necessary they were in order to build the ladder to the stars that are now aligning.

I continue to pray and listen to a response as I sit on my mat and count to Zen, riding my breath while it moves in and out of this body I have reclaimed.

It’s not enough to just feed the body.
It’s not enough to just feed the soul.

The soul needs the body to give birth to its dreams and the body needs the soul to live and experience those dreams. The feast is an interconnected ying-yang circle of continual flow. Another relationship where one shouldn’t live without the other is the balance of the head and the heart. I say shouldn’t because many of us only live in one or the other, perhaps too afraid of making the connection or simply not knowing how. No judgement. Just acknowledgment.

There are so many things I already knew up there, but as the dots begin to connect, I now know the same things down there, adding color and texture to the monochrome that lay there before. I can’t help but sigh and drop my shoulders as I relax into this realization of deeper knowing in my heart, and wider understanding in my mind. A brand-new landscape, for sure.

I’m excited at the hints I’m seeing of what’s ahead. A work in progress, that’s me but aren’t we all? We’re just at different stages of the artist’s vision. As the day deepens believe me, the loftiness I start the day with is something that needs constant attention because it’s so easy to be pulled one way or another and before I know it I’m taking another deep breath and counting to Zen. But circles aren’t always perfectly round I remind myself—that’s not the important part. The important part is that there is a circle and that the connection remains.

And tomorrow I will sit again, curious at what will unfold but knowing that whatever it is, I will be adding a new rung to the ladder that I’ll use to climb and reach the stars.

Moving Into the Bone and Learning to be Hollow

As I write my stories and share my experiences, I can see and feel what I could only describe as dominoes falling one right after another in quick succession as things in my life are coming, and going, and being twisted inside and out. Instead of being obstacles though, the fallen dominoes have created a new path for me to walk on like a bridge.

I’m at the point in my life where things that only happened to other people, or friends of friends’, are now happening to me or to someone within my direct circle. My deepest circle now contains births, deaths, illnesses, new wrinkles, new friends, transitions, and experiences, some of which I never would have volunteered for, but would do all over again to be where I am today.

No one is immune to this growth of moving into the bones of ourselves and learning to be hollow. If we are to step into the ancient wisdom and depth of love and peace that is there waiting for us, our marrows—our life, opinions, us as we know it—need to become cut, bent, twisted, and bled.  It is only then that we become the hollow bone of letting it all come through us and allows us to hold the space not only for others but for ourselves.

Or not. No one has to, of course. It’s all a choice. You can stand behind that domino and peer around it or you can push it and use it to walk over to wherever it will connect you to. It’s up to you.

I feel honored and very lucky to be able to share these experiences with people, some of whom are new companions, and some of whom have always been on the road with me.

My circle may be getting smaller as I get older, but it is certainly richer, and more vibrant as it becomes sustained from the marrow that is seeping not only from my bones but the bones of those around me as we witness and hold each other in infinite wisdom that can only come from being hollow.