ALONE...

Alone…

Without another soul, I climbed

My favorite place, a special place – the syncline

There is something magical about the view from above but today the view from the descent revealed things I haven’t seen before

Even though I know it well, with a little change in perspective I was able to see this familiar path with a bit of reverence

And I wonder…

What would it be like if I looked at more things (the tougher things) from below,

Instead of above.

-debbie lynn

Caribbean Dawn

The light begins to break through the darkness and it has a soft glow. Filtered by luminous clouds (with their bellies full) the sky stirs and they release their load - 

but this morning… it is a gentle rain. 

A hint of a rainbow appears letting it be known the sun is moments away from a grand entrance.

It is early and the sea takes on many shades. A chameleon of sort in multiple hues of blue – it’s all a reflection. As above so below the water is our life source and I say I little thank you.

The gentle rocking of the boat soothes my soul.

I am cradled by the sea and feels so right.  The water is lapping against the hull, the birds dance and dive then perch themselves on a near-by buoy to stand sentinel.

Life is simple, untethered and quiet in one bay to the next, and each day has its own unique serenity. Connecting to the ocean has deepened my respect for its immensity and heightened my ability to tolerate inconvenience of certain things I once deemed important – thankfully they are no longer a thought.

From our boat, I watch the village awaken and I think...

Existence on shore now seems tilted, harried, stressful and sad. A place I cannot embrace anymore so I say a little prayer. I could easily shut my eyes to solid ground but I don’t, I won’t and I adapt when needed.

We go to land to provision, to take in the heritage, and the way of life.  We are constantly reminded of just how lucky we are and to never take for granted where we come from – life is not easy on these Islands. The things we have grown up with are only a pipe dream to the West Indies. 

Respectively, we are spoiled beyond our wildest imagination.

Just beyond the juxtaposition of the clashing cultures in each village/town is the sacred jungle. A place where the old ways dominate by far. Technology couldn’t, or wouldn’t dare try to master or duplicate the strength of blood wood trees, the beat of the hummingbird wings and the might of the rivers that feed our soul. The light under the canopy of trees is beyond words. We walk in awe and brilliant beauty.

And I say to myself, “I wish I could share this with everyone.”

We travel in solitude with time and tide. Our schedule is predicated upon the will of the wind. We can only go when Momma Nature nods her head as we are at complete mercy of her whim. She often acts like an adolescent; her mood changes in an instant, so awareness is key.

Full sails are a rarity; the winds are too powerful and build in the blink of an eye.

A 40-mile passage is a seven-hour day of nothingness; it gives way to the things buried deep in the subconscious.  Thinking, forever thinking – I call it “sea therapy”  – you can’t run, you can’t hide; you are called to the mat until the smallest object catches the eye.  Heightened sensitivity to the little things are imperative, they are omens of sea state, wind direction and unseen life below the water. 

Every now-and-then a school of dolphins will come play in our wake. They taunt, they arc, and they race our hull and peel off as quickly as they appear. Nearing shore the Yellow-footed Boobies try to land on our rigging, sometimes they make it, sometimes they don’t and the effort they make to land is exhausting to witness.

I bring my attention back to the sunrise – the magnificent sunrise, it never gets old. 

And I write:

I love the way the morning gently takes away the darkness and no one questions its motives.

I love the gap, that momentary gap where day and night are not defined.

I love the way moon knows how powerful it is no matter how much of itself it is showing.

I love the wisdom of the soil, layered and majestic – there are stories, many untold stories.

I love how trees reach for the light and cede to the wind.

I love the unimportant that is wildly important

I love it all, and we dance…  (dl)

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SPIRITUAL COMA

Today I lapsed into a spiritual coma.

My mind was full - too full and I felt stuck. Time to purge, release, step back, assess and get ready for the next surge of information.  

I wonder about my agitation, restlessness, in and out of felicity. I wonder about the nagging of my heart that wants a taste of something but what is it?

Nothing tangible, nothing real, and nothing to say or do, I can’t put words to it.

Then I view the morning clouds and the light in the sky, it changes everything,

The rays are pouring through in a perfect stream. The stream…. yes, this is what I am missing. The stream of consciousness that I tend to forget until extreme beauty is in front of me in all of its glory. The stream that flows is the connection to spirit and the stream that believes in my purpose.

That is what I was missing and all it took to inspire. 

The understated immenseness of what is around me. How could the light make such a difference? It is magic for me - the light went straight to the heart center.  

I see now as I go through my days in a daze, it is important to confront my feelings, to talk to the heart stream and listen to the fluidity of the wind.

We are infants in our understanding and our control... until we connect to source and source is here to grow us up, guide, and direct our understanding. This is the personal and direct line to inner happiness.

Wake up. Find your Stream, your pool, your river to dip into and get soaked in the information that surrounds you. Then... say thank you. Quietly or aloud, you will be heard. (DL)

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His name is "Kenny"

Early morning  -

The birds, frogs and a bark from a distant dog usher in the day.

There is the sound of parting water - a whoosh, a slap,

as a well-worn man rows his small and weather beaten boat up to ours.

He greets us with a hearty toothless smile and begins to rattle off his ‘wants’ in a deep Caribbean Creole dialect.  It is hard to understand him but it turns out that he is just hungry and he wants to know if we have food to spare.

His eyes are depleted, his spirit is waning but his attitude is healthy even as his body projects a different image.  

We ask his name - he said, “Kenny.”

We gather up what we can and hand it to him, but he shakes his head “no”

At first I didn’t get why he was not accepting the items but I soon figure out he wants it all in a bag; it is easier to carry – we comply.

He then takes the food happily, greedily and with gratitude, and he and rows off. 

My tears flow, I am shattered as the realization that he has nothing hits me hard.

My husband calls him back to the boat and gives him a t-shirt.

Again filled with deep happiness, he proudly puts the shirt on and asks when we will return. I tell him Dec. but he shakes his head. He says with a slight quietness, “I don’t think I will be around.” I assure him that I will come back and find him.  

– He bids us farewell and rows away.

The Spirit of the Caribbean…. Be still in my aching heart, with me on land. (dl)

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BENDING NOT TO BREAK

We never have to give up our intentions just to make peace, but we can bend to have serenity.

Resiliency in a world that demands rigidity can easily break our spirit – don’t let it, rise above it –don’t hold back. Lean into your words in order to save yourself from being chastised mind/body/soul. No one can take that from you.

And there are certain times when life gets us down so we fold. Try not to stay there too long because when we are bent over, all the blood rushes to the head – and that is how we black out.

I mean we are all human, why can’t we crack open that stupid idea of perfection? It is in our imperfections we are shown flexibility and acceptance… and like the delicate flexing of willow that weeps so beautifully….

To bend is breath taking.

Here is what I know -
When you spill your milk it’s ok to cry about it.
When you trip over your words you may bruise the ego.
You can crash into life and unapologetically smiled to it.
You can sing the song of blue valor and someone else will always color it yellow.
So what?
When your heart is burning, and your belly cries out, it is time to crawl
into safety, a protection from rigid intolerance.
Bend a little.

We don’t need to be courageous to speak our heart. Courage will show up. When you need a dose of isolation because the outer noise is just too much to bear find a quiet space. Meet it head on any day, any time, anywhere.

Raise a glass, here's to a world without resistance… affirm:

Dear Suppleness,
You are my light, my ink, and my destiny and when I bend, I will try not to break. I know there is so much more possibility than what any rigid energy can do –
Bring it on…. to bend is so breath taking and beautiful (dl)

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OUR STORY IS WHERE WE MEET OUR SELF - Tell it like it is

             

               
The content of our life, the blood we had to shed and the tears of joy or sadness – this is the story. Who we have been, who we will be, and who we are… right now. (dl)

Our story…

It is just being honest inside and taking a few chances, but not making our stuff stupidly dramatic and hopelessly romantic – keep it real.

Over the years our story morphs, or might even disappear, but the one thing that will always remain is the change it had in us, to us, and with us.  And this change (big or small) whether we believe in it (or not) is nothing short of spiritual alchemy – Yes, it happens and we can’t do a thing about it – but acceptance is a cool thing to put in our pocket.

It is a playground of experiences maxed out, stretched out, that put us out-of- mind because in all this mental hopscotch it seems like we are the only ones suffering –

Heads up sunshine, we are not.

Yes, it is just a story.

So when we grab a hold of our world gone mad, shake it to the core, little diamonds begin to tumble to the ground and this is where we get to pick them up and either use them to cut glass, or to wear them – it’s a choice.

And after it is all said in done, will the story matter? That is one more piece of the mysterious puzzlement of our purpose – personal, artistic and alive. We need to be open to the possibility that it didn’t matter at all, except in that one tiny moment of our life, and life goes on. 

But when we look in the mirror do we see the years of a worn torn vision caressing an image we hold in our head, or do we ignore it? Do we play safe for the sake of our sanity? Color the past or make it black and white?

It is so very hard to look deeply into the eyes of a time come and gone (with head our held high) and accept some of our decisions were probably not the best. But there were times when all we wanted was a bigger truth and we paid for it dearly.  So we replay the situation over and over and ask where it was that we went awry.

Enter the endless circle. When we fall into that habitual redundancy, we get a bit sour about it all (but it is of our own doing) because of the double-edged sword – damned if we do, damned if we don’t. In other words, the story needs high emotion to sustain interest.

The intensity of retelling our “stuff” can ignite a flame that should have been put out long ago or it can be cathartic – again, we have many choices, so we must pick our inner and outer audience wisely. 

The art of the tale is how it is told.  Did we learn, did we share it with wisdom or beat it to death in drama and bitterness?  If it holds no credence anymore perhaps it should be released from the repertoire and start a different conversation.

But before we can say, “The end” we need to be completely honest with our heart.  If it doesn’t hurt anymore when begin to speak about it – put it bed. It is done.  If it a twinge still appears in our gut, or something makes us tingle in a not so good way, there is more to learn, more to know, more to grow. 

Dig deeper.

With any luck at all we find serenity - a solemn serenity that we all have to face sooner or later. It can be cold and brutal but it is (in my mind) the best form of enlightenment out there.

Our story is in fact, where we meet our self. Extend your hand gratefully and say, Hello… (dl)

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FREE SPIRT – OLD SOUL

There is such a misconception about our free spirit –

Clarity to the misfits…
We live in the moment, but that doesn’t mean we are without responsibility.
It means following the heart, the core, and we are immersed in life fully. There are no stipulations, no regulations, and no conditions (for the most part).

We are: Gypsies, bohemians, hippies, artists, poets, muses, writers, dancers and usually loners with an abundant amount of friends. We live to live, love to live and love all life has to offer, all of it - and freedom is the music of our soul that drives us home.

The free spirit knows a deep respect for nature as it amuses and amazes us constantly.
We are misunderstood (thought to be a bit whacked) and we do (and say) the things most people won’t.

We are risk-takers; solid lovers and we don’t do much about “what if.”
We are said to be “old souls” with wisdom beyond our years but we earned it.
We have been chastised, criticized, mocked, and then admired for our knowing.

Temptations find us, touch us and move us to tears. While we are looking out for the wounded and the underbelly of what life really means, we stumble, we fall but we always get up again.

People often think we don’t care about much yet we do. We care deeply, intently and wholly. And if it appears that we are disinterested, or inattentive; it is only that we standing outside a fine line of involvement. That line is a conscious choice we make to try not to interfere where we know we are not meant to be.

The only thing that scares us is the toxic energy of drama, (we don’t need it or want it around).

Some believe we have already been here many times and that our taste of life is exotic and savory. Some think it is only in our past experiences and lives that we conquered so much tragedy and pain that we now have such a carefree view. I am on the fence about all that but living in and with the lighter side of life brings simple happiness, this I know to be true.

It is embracing what comes our way good bad or indifferent, being in the flow and not trying to swim upstream all time.

So the mantra, it goes like this:
We are ordinary souls with NO intention of having an ordinary life.
We live the highs and the lows and all points in-between.
The spirit is in us and will continue to be “A Rebel without a cause” –

But isn’t that what life is all about? Living to the fullest, throwing caution to the wind? If you are nodding your head as you read along, you are in good company but you know how difficult it can be, and as our spirits collide, dance in the moon lit sky, it is nice to have some conscious camaraderie.

I see you, you see me and we know….

Life is a gift, and we are never promised to be kissed by the wind. Through it all, our hands are held together by a common thread - that thread is the presence of the free spirit ….called love. (dl)

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