seeking the beauty in the quiet moments
we continue to really be in summer over here; there is a permission given to relax and laugh and get outside and watch movies and rest and just be a little family together. i recently wrote this in an email, "time is flying by as i am finally sinking into living after so many months of survival mode. i didn't even realize i was still in it until i was out of it." it does feel like we are coming out of hiberation after months of worry and so so many doctor's appointments and how the list goes on. ellie continues to be doing great overall...growing...hopefully growing out of her other two heart issues. time will tell as always.
i have been thinking about this idea of how sometimes we don't even realize we are in survival mode until we are out of it. how the body and mind adjust to what must be done. how we protect ourselves in order to focus on what seems to be or is important. how my mind can distract me with its swirling, twirling ways. how this little grey with an apple on top box of wonder that holds worlds can distract me too. but then something will shift to quiet my mind. there will be a slowing down...a noticing...an invitation to be right here.
as i work on some current projects (including the i-am-so-excited-about-this content for emerge), i am observing how my practice of trying to be right here through photography and writing and creating in my studio and reading poetry and taking a breath or two or three has given me a map of sorts to get through the times of survival mode.
this idea of having a practice that you work with (as much as possible) daily means you practice on the good days where you have so much energy and your outlook is "hello world. bring it." it means you practice on the days when you stay in your pajamas and eat ice cream for breakfast. and again on the days when it rains and hails and when the sun shines so bright you have to leave the grumps behind. you practice on those usual sort of days so that when you suddenly encounter a day that finds you in a hospital or standing next to the phone after hearing something that has changed life forever or walking the path of grief and loss and sadness or even when you have just had a simple shift that confuses you or when something beautiful is going to take you on an adventure and you fear you will not find your way...
you practice so that when you encounter those "i have no idea where i am" sort of days, you will find a bit of light because you will see that hand in the darkness in the form of your practice. you will find light as you take a photo that captures the realness of a moment. you will find light as your write down every word that lives inside your fear. you will find light inside a poem written by someone else from another time who pushes you to know you are not alone. you will find light inside sitting in the quiet and letting the space around your heart grow with each breath.
you practice to begin to notice the beauty, the joy, the truth that is (always) there.
you practice to find the light.