Tuesday, August 23, 2016
They (whoever “they” are) say our disturbances are all divine, but when we are in the thick of a nasty situation there is nothing divine about it.
And the last thing we are thinking about is thanking the atrocity for giving us a life lesson.
Enter blame, resentment and a plethora of other emotions that come in with the disturbances. They stack up like bricks when life is bending us over and kicking our asses. Here is how I turned the negativity around.
In 2001, my world collapsed. In desperation, I sought out help.
This wasn’t my normal way at all—I was an independent, strong, do-it-yourself kind of woman, so asking for a way out (a way to heal the many years of unresolved shit) was never a thought until my marriage imploded. Couple that with 9/11, (which ruined my business) I was in extreme chaos. I was losing my husband, my house, my car, my dignity and my mind. I broke down… I broke bad.
I remember being on bended knees begging for resolve, wailing in pity and sadness. I had no idea where I was going or who to turn to, but I knew staying in depression and helplessness was not an option.
For some reason I thought I could find an answer (or at least some sympathy) through a psychic I had seen in the past. I went to the bookstore where she worked, but I was told she wasn’t there. I burst into tears and the woman behind the counter hugged me tight. She gave a tissue stroked my hair and handed me a business card of another woman she thought could be of some help.
Her name, Brightwater.
I called her immediately and she said, “Come right in,” which I did and our relationship began. This beautiful soul gave her time to me at minimal cost and took me on a journey I could not have done alone. She is a Shaman, a Medicine Woman, a Healer and Intuit. She took me to places that (in my mind) were forbidden and taboo.
We had “sessions.” These were past-life regressions, heart-wrenching talks, and we dug into my many wounds. She was a guide to my soul, a mind cleaner and a mentor. One day she asked me to step back into my childhood for a moment and try to find my parents. I must have given her my yeah, right look but she was well aware of my ambivalence, “Debbie, this is an exercise in futility. You must drop your ego, your disdain for the ones you say have hurt you, and do this or you will stay ‘stuck’ in your own head forever suffering.”
I complied, and this little “session” was truly life-altering.
She put me in a state of semi-hypnosis, softly speaking, instructing me to start the task of seeking out my parents. Dad was easy to find. He was in the basement, in his workshop. He was smoking a cigarette with a vodka tonic by his side, and he was tinkering with something. He looked up and greeted me with his usual smile and love, motioned me to come into the shop and gave me the hug I adore—it was just another day, in the day of “the way it was.” My dad was a consistent presence when I needed a bit of security, but dad was also immersed in the bottle. He did what he could do as only a father could do, just short of being there—but not fully.
Brightwater then said it was time to leave my dad and find my mother. I walked out of the shop through the laundry room expecting to see Mom at the ironing board, but she wasn’t there. I headed into the hallway peeked into the den thinking she might be in there cleaning, but she wasn’t.
I started up the stairs calling her, “Mom? Mom… where are you?” She was not in the kitchen, not in the bedroom and not in the den. The overwhelming feeling of being alone hit my gut hard. I cried for what seemed like an eternity and Brightwater gently brought me back to the present.
She let my heart pour out into her space.
My mom was not home, she was always gone and the tears rushed out of me painfully, and for a long time. I was so hurt by her absence and wanted her to be within reach, but she was in her own world, doing her own thing. Being home was not her agenda.
We talked about my resentment to Mom’s absence, her priorities and her energy. We talked about feelings of abandonment and the effects it has had on my soul. In this conversation I found my resolve with Brightwater’s words and they are words I will never ever forget.
“Debbie, I understand your ‘need and your pain,’ but it is time for you to spin that straw it into gold. You are strong, independent and creative don’t you see? Your mother’s absence was how you obtained these traits and fostered them into the woman you are now. In her absence you had to rely only on yourself, your power and your own intuition. If your mother had been different, you probably wouldn’t have the strength or the confidence to do most of the things you have done up until this very moment. Debbie, she is and her actions were a gift. It is in this anger with her that you have flourished, you have bloomed, and now you must return to it all to the soil; forgive yourself, reseed, rest and bloom again.”
I sat there solemnly and stared out of the window. It took a few minutes to let those words reach my heart and then I exploded in gratitude for Brightwater and my mother—a gratitude that I never knew was possible.
I rose from the chair, wiped the tears from my eyes and embraced her deeply. Then I turned, and walked out the door.
Completely injected with a new view, I went home and I called my mom. I thanked her for being her, thanked her for her own independence and her outlook on life. There was a pause, but she didn’t question my call or make me feel as if I needed to explain. She got it. The divine was immanent and the timing was right.
Renewed, revived and ready to take on the rest of the shit that stood in my face, I had a better understanding of my head and heart which empowered me to get through the next phase of sorting out “my stuff.” Ever since that day, I have used that example to over and over again when my feelings are messy and I need to overcome situations which have the propensity to hurt me. I can trace a line to the pain and thank it.
We all know life is a process, but so often we don’t know how to get to it or though it. It is a long and difficult trek, but we have to use these gifts of diversity to the fullest and give them a bit of dignity.
Life gives us exactly what we need when we need it. Is it divinity? I don’t know, but here are two definitions for the word—we can choose.
Divinity: noun
1 (pl. divinities) the state or quality of being divine: Christ’s divinity.
the study of religion; theology: a doctor of divinity.
a divine being; a god or goddess: busts of various Roman divinities.
(the Divinity) God.
2 a fluffy, creamy candy made with stiffly beaten egg whites.
I like them all. Life is divine and I am thankful for the pain.
http://thetattooedbuddha.com/gratitude-for-the-pain/
Tuesday, August 2, 2016
Sounds of a Waiting Room
In an office full of despair, desperation, sickness and
poverty
two white moths dance.
There is a hollow view from inside,
all I want is to be outside,
but I am in a room
waiting…
A child’s smile breaks through my meditative observance.
He doesn’t care about where he is,
his gentle persona fills the room with a different energy.
He drifts into his dad with such love
it melts me to my very core.
All of a sudden the tiny world I am in becomes large.
This beautiful child
with a beautiful aura in a deformed body
lit up the room so brightly
I had to close my eyes.
My tiny world.
My tiny, tiny world Rocked and riveted –
Mesmerized, transfix, I was drawn to a situation I know
nothing about yet,
I learned so much from his extraordinary presence.
Suspended in time for a moment
my “wait” was completely minimized
compared to the journey of a lifetime that this child had
already taken.
-debbie lynn
Wednesday, July 27, 2016
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
Wednesday, July 13, 2016
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)
Saturday, July 9, 2016
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)
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)
Wednesday, June 29, 2016
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)
https://www.facebook.com/360degreesofinspiration/
https://www.facebook.com/360degreesofinspiration/
https://instagram.com/360degreesfullcircle/
Friday, April 8, 2016
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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